Industrial History, — December 6, 2008 10:46 — 0 Comments

Eulogy to Eamon Donnelly

Into Newry Town at eventide

Amid its green hills steep

We bore him back to his cherished home

Wrapt in his last long sleep

He was the fearless Patriot

Who fought for the freedom won

Our Cause has lost a giant’s strength

And Erin – a faithful son.


His was the heart that furrowed the way

And counted not the cost

His was the fire set aflame the torch

When all seemed dark and lost.

His was the voice that resounded strong

Above the curfew bell

When Northern Gaels were penalised

And trapped in a prison cell.


His were the hands that laboured long

To gather the harvest seed

Who held the brief for Northern Gaels

And succoured their kin in need

His was the creed that ne’er lost faith

In an undivided land

And scorned the penal code decrees

Of Partition’s ruthless hand.


His was the spirit that yet shall light

This drear, dark Northern land

Shall waken spirits of Ulster‘s Chiefs

To raise O’Neill’s Red Hand

Then freedom shall wake with morning light

As Trumpeters sound the call

When men will march from Northern Hills

To the Nation’s Banquet Hall.


Then all shall see but one borderland

The seashores of our isle

Hearts of men shall throb with pride

For the child of the Gael will smile

And in Newry Town at eventide

Amid its green hills steep

He’ll smile as he lists to freedom’s song

Wrapt in his last long sleep.


Desmond Crean


 … Lusitania’s local victims …


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