death of a martyr

from a long time ago found this thought it was worth throwing out there :)

 

Death of a martyr

 

Sat in this cell, is like living in hell,

They’ll never let me out,

The louder I scream, the less I’ll be seen,

So I’ve learned how, not to shout,

I’m sick of this bucket; they won’t let me chuck it,

So I threw it all over the walls,

The smell is intense; it makes no bloody sense,

And still, they won’t answer my calls,

They’ve taken my clothes, for god only knows,

I sit here naked and bare,

A tin plate on the floor, behind that solid door,

I’m refusing to taste their fayre,

I sleep on the ground; it’s where I am found,

For they have now taken my bed,

Cold and alone, shook to the bone,

I think that soon, I’ll be dead,

They’ve taken my all, in the hopes I will fall,

And agree to their little plan,

Soon they will see, my mind is set free,

They’ll learn the resolve of this man,

With clean sheets I woke, a doctor he poked,

A needle right into my arm,

Asked me to eat, the taste of defeat,

Before I would, do myself harm,

Yet locked in my cell, its heaven not hell,

It is them who sit and observe,

While they kneel down, under that British crown,

I for one will not serve,

Keep yer food and yere bed, I’d rather be dead,

Than give up my right to be free,

For a simple request, put you all to the test,

Pride was all you could see,

I’ve had my last shave; I go now to my grave,

For freedom I made my last stand,

I made it my fight; I fought for the right,

I die free for my Ireland.