The Great Appear Great To Us.

All These Mountains Of Irish Dead, All These Corpses Mangled Beyond Recognition, All These Arms, Legs, Eyes, Ears, Fingers, Toes, Hands, All These Shivering Putrefying Bodies And Portions Of Bodies Once Warm Living And Tender Parts Of Irish Men And Youths - All These Horrors In Flanders Or The Gallipoli Peninsula, Are All Items In The Price Ireland Pays For Being Part Of The British Empire.

Irish Tory Employers Hid[e] Their Sweatshops Behind Orange Flags, And Irish Home Rule Landlords Us[e] The Green Sunburst Of Erin To Cloak Their Rack-renting In The Festering Slums Of Our Irish Towns.

State Ownership And Control Is Not Necessarily Socialism - If It Were, Then The Army, The Navy, The Police, The Judges, The Gaolers, The Informers, And The Hangmen, All Would All Be Socialist Functionaries, As They Are State Officials - But The Ownership By The State Of All The Land And Materials For Labour, Combined With The Co-operative Control By The Workers Of Such Land And Materials, Would Be Socialism.

Whoop It Up For Liberty! After Ireland Is Free, Says The Patriot Who Won't Touch Socialism, We Will Protect All Classes, And If You Won't Pay Your Rent You Will Be Evicted Same As Now. But The Evicting Party, Under Command Of The Sheriff, Will Wear Green Uniforms And The Harp Without The Crown, And The Warrant Turning You Out On The Roadside Will Be Stamped With The Arms Of The Irish Republic. Now, Isn't That Worth Fighting For?

No Revolutionary Movement Is Complete Without Its Poetical Expression.