Remembering Ireland 1916 haze of Whiskey
My ancestors were from County Tyrone. And fled poverty to England with thousands of others and just found they weren’t welcome.
Remembering Ireland 1916 through the haze of Whiskey
Mangan poured the whiskey
MacGowan held my legs
Behan laughed and poured another,
I laughed and poured it down!
It was a night like any other
The whiskey did a job on me.
Where’s me whiskey for the night?
Where’s me whiskey to keep it right?
Drunk to hell I tried to rise.
But MacGowan still held my legs.
Oh the whiskey did a job on me.
Where’s me whiskey for the night?
I looked around for all I could see
but the whiskey hung onto me.
So where’s me whiskey where’s me whiskey
Give me more before I kick in your door.
Hemmingway sat in me corner.
Laughing through a grizzly beard.
Shotgun sitting upon his lap,
I raised me glass and toasted him.
MacGowan growled me a song,
stories of drunken rebels.
Fighting for a mighty cause
Freedom for Ireland for all to see.
Suddenly all was clarity
As I remembered my Irish ancestry.
Accross the sea in a heaving boat.
Escaping hunger and darkened skies.
Fleeing poteen and poverty in 1916.
Escaping the Black and Tans
Murderous thieving, raping bastards.
Sometimes the lads shot them down.
Leaving poteen and freezing beds
They came here to lay their heads.
I don’t know what they went through?
“No dogs”, “No Irish”, No Blacks”.
But I’m laying here today with me whiskey
and I’ve got me flat to call me own.
And a key to me door as I crawl across the floor.
And the English still fuck me over.
From lofty chairs even though they call me their own.
So I’m still a proud rebel at heart all for the good.
As I imagine fat bastards in parliament swimming in their blood.
These signs were all over London and elsewhere, lodgings, jobs, shops….
Yes, I have to say I would probably be an IRA supporter. (although I remember too well the atrocities) but every people are sovereign beings with their own countries.
Besides one of my fav songs from all time comes from there. It was my father’s too.
Bless the Irish!
Alison x
https://youtu.be/wyQ-tScuzwM
Ah Alison what a mighty song, truly one of the greats. I was worried posting this poem because I wasn’t sure people could separate the true freedom fighters of the early 1900’s with the lunatics who were active in the troubles, murdering people often innocent Irish, making money from drug sales and so on. Which in an earlier life I was part of fighting. DET. I think that in the times of the Black and Tans I’d have fought.. the British literally released killers, rapists and thieves from prison and gave them guns and uniforms and called them a militia.… Read more »
PS The fat bastards in Whitehall are still doing the same until we wake the F*** up!
Yep, sheeple. I hate them, I found myself drinking in a pub by accident, in a very exclusive village outside Plymouth with Lord Grey introduced by my sister in law whose husband was multi million pounds wealthy… he took great delight in telling me of going and signing in to the house of lords then walking straight back out again and having fun in London and getting full expenses. I had to restrain myself… he called himself “a farmer”. Hahahah he just owned loads of land and had managers run it, I did get to call him a wanker though,… Read more »
Hear, hear!
Ah, its a brave soul, who dips their toes into the history and politics of Ireland, and me and me wife keep our toes in our shoes, otherwise we’d be dipping them apart, and worse – together! That out of the way, this one grabbed me by the scruff of the neck – well done Phil! I liked your comment about His Lordshit. I was also intrigued about whiskey versus whisky. I had simply thought it was straight forward – whiskey Irish, whisky scotch; but like everything about our island’s histories its convoluted – well worth googling.
Powerful stuff, Mentalelf.
And they want to protect the statues from the awakened people!!!
Allen