Photo courtesy of the Morning Star
by James O’Brien
There’s always a different time to be born,
It was just our chance to be born then.
When the world turned in on itself,
To what aim, well only the children will reveal.
McGahey spoke highly of you and every one I met,
You sacrificed that willing, that gaunt feature,
You can interpret it any you want,
You stood with the pickets, the families of hunger,
As we fucked it up in the face of anguish.
I wish I was with you, we could walk through those scarred valleys,
Draw a line across the pitiful slagheaps,
The cursed dales of daylight robbery.
You made us strong, you, you inspired us, the lost,
Giving it all up, and yourself, so we could wreak our personal vengeance.
