Easter 1916

Seven centuries have passed, beneath the heel,
The agony of a nation, they begin to feel.
Extraordinary men, but men none-the-less,
The strength of Empire, the will put to the test.

Where once was a pen, now a rifle,
The flames of revolution, no longer will stifle.
Our great poet will pay the price,
But he\'s willing, it\'s his blood sacrifice.

Among these men are the builders of a nation,
But they will bring destruction, not just creation.
The city of Dublin resounds with a bang,
The martyrs march of, in chain-gang.

Among those taken whom are taken away,
are two faces that will long stay.
A country divided, not by the enemy,
But by those close, those who are friendly.

In the end, it will end in blood,
Of biblical proportions, just like the flood.
But in this flood there is no water,
This flood is one of Civil Warfare.

Rebel soldiers fought the crown,
Rebel soldiers, all fall down.