A poem I wrote.

By sword and gun, they earn their gold.
Cruel oppresion helps forge their hold.
One mighty sweep across a nation,
Sends the natives into trepidation.

Empires come and Empires go,
But on the way the blood will flow.
One by one they strike them down,
All in the name of the glorious crown.

When the native fights back,
The whip comes out with a vengeful crack.
One by one they die by the sword,
Freedom is such an ugly word.

The spirit of man can not be bought,
Such a thing would provoke a thought.
The fury and rage begins to swell,
Rank by rank the natives rebel.

One man through word of mouth,
Rallies his people to force them out.
All people young an old rebel,
Fighting back to thee I tell.

One final push for freedom they say,
But the invaders will not go away.
We push, we shout, we scream and we cry,
In the ensuing fight millions will die.

A country touched by this evil hand,
Scarred by this vicious brand.
They left in time although they bided,
They leave us with a country divided.

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WOW! Truly Amazing..

 

Go raibh míle maith agat