From my research into the writings of Dan Courtney i came across a tribute he also penned about Maurice O Neill after he was executed. YOUNG MAURICE O NEILL All over Ireland there is sorrow and gloom For young Maurice o Neill is his cold prison tomb By the traitors to Ireland he is sent to his shroud Like the kinsmen of Owen Roe and the great Sean the Proud Shooting at IRA men a 'tec was shot dead But o Neill did not shoot him all there present said Like the Manchester Martyrs when Brett was laid low Young O Neill is condemned though his soul white as snow Good luck to our priests and people so brave They all did their endeavours his young life to save But as callous and cruel as the old saxon crew Were the Fianna Fail puppets - young Maurice they slew For reprieve tens of thousands 'round Ireland did plead but the despots in Dublin to them paid no heed The rumour soon spread, which with tears filled each eye On November the eleventh young Maurice did die But november the 11th was red poppy day Since the first World War 'twas John Bulls gala day So they postponed the shooting lest the people should see Their rulers still danced to the tunes called Sean Buidhe At dawn the next morning they marched him to die With his smart soldiers step and his head held on high With no slur on his name and no stain on his hand He laid down his life for his dear native land God help his poor father this cruel cross to bear His mother, God rest her, she is free from Earths care His brother, the teacher , long jailing has seen His crime, too, being faithful to Dark Rosaleen Had he died like young Williams in Belfasts black jail Its what you'd expect in the new North-East Pale But by once-trusted leaders- are they traitors of fools? They changed and become the false Sasanachs tools The rulers before them under whom this land groaned We see them today both despised and dethroned The day is fast dawning - may the Lord speed the hour When we'll hunt these new tyrants from place and from power Its a wise church that ne'er canonizes its saints Till they're long dead and buried and free from Earths taints For the halo of glory we once saw o'er Dev's brow Is all changed and replaced by John Bulls horns now To the tune 'Law and Order' our marthyrs all died Through the centuries down as to free us they tried Their roll is so long it makes my head reel The latest, not last, is brave Maurice o Neill To down the republic young Maurice they slew But his place will be taken by men just as true They'll be found while grass grows round famed Beenatee And the Ohermong river flows down to the sea. Domhaill O Curnain ( 1888 - 19630 Maulin , Dromid, South Kerry.
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