Through Belfast's lonely graveyard, I strayed one autumn night.
Around a grave, a crowd I saw in the evening's fading light.
And from the men and womenfolk who knelt around that mound,
Came the "paters and the "aves" in a soft-toned Gaelic sound.
"Within this grave," a young man speaks, "lie two of Ireland's sons,
Who gave their lives in freedom's cause and faced the tyrant's guns,
On Cavan's mountain--Lappinduff--fought one with bravery
Until the English soldiers killed brave Sean McCartney.
In Mountjoy Jail, the other one, on Mary's festive morn,
The bright red cloak of martyrdom for Ireland did adorn,
And as the church bells chimed their paean to Mary immaculate,
A Free State firing party sent Joe McKelvey through death's gate.
And further there across the path lies one who knew not cant,
A soldier who in Ireland's cause, his life he gladly spent.
Through battle fire and prison cell and comrades' treachery,
Brave Paddy Nash withstood it all till death claimed victory.
And all around are monuments that bear a martyr's name,
True patriots who had served and died to kindle freedom's flame.
Ned Trodden, Gaynor and O'Carroll with McStockers brave,
Remember them! They died for us and found a martyr's grave.
And Oh, my friend, look further there: a grave just freshly made.
A boy we all loved in our hearts, there in a grave is laid.
When just a boy of sixteen years, a felon's cap he wore.
God rest you, Frank Doherty. Ireland's cross you proudly bore.
The ceremony's o'er, the crowd has gone, and I am left alone,
With thoughts that take my memory back to McCracken and Wolfetone,
And in every generation still they come, that noble band,
To willingly sacrifice their lives in the cause of Ireland.
Ten years passed by, and I walked through that graveyard once again,
To see new names of those who'd borne their country's cross of pain:
McCaughey, Gaffney, Perry, Malone, brave Sean Martin too,
O'Callaghan, Williams, Seamus Burns, they have died for Roisin Dubh.
Hope this what you wanted Slan anois.