We reproduce below Kearns' speech from the dock.

My friends … I stand before you and before God, accused of what? Accused of labouring with might and main to produce the drum, nay THE DRUM!, that – more than any other emblem of our Irishness, denotes the quickness of our pulse and the rhythm in our feet, the burl and rattle of the wind against the byre door, the hammering of our hearts as we struggle in our currachs against raging seas to bring home the herrings for our wives and wee ones.

And they say, that this is a crime. That for the manufacture and the playing of this noble instrument, once beloved of Finn McCool, of Sweeney the Bard, of Cuchullain, of Brian Boru (a mighty drummer indeed, comparable only to Lupari in his intricacy and deftness of touch) and of The Wild Geese, Kearns must be censured by the state!

Well … I say this! You may ban the drum, but you cannot ban the rhythm.

Ladies and gentlemen. Consider well your verdict.