The O'Rahilly

Sing of the O'Rahilly,

Do not deny his right;

Sing a 'the' before his name;

Allow that he, despite

All those learned historians,

Established it for good;

He wrote out that word himself,

He christened himself with blood.

How goes the weather?



Sing of the O'Rahilly

That had such little sense

He told Pearse and Connolly

He'd gone to great expense

Keeping all the Kerry men

Out of that crazy fight;

That he might be there himself

Had travelled half the night.

How goes the weather?



'Am I such a craven that

I should not get the word

But for what some travelling man

Had heard I had not heard?'

Then on pearse and Connolly

He fixed a bitter look:

'Because I helped to wind the clock

I come to hear it strike.'

How goes the weather?



What remains to sing about

But of the death he met

Stretched under a doorway

Somewhere off Henry Street;

They that found him found upon

The door above his head

'Here died the O'Rahilly.

R.I.P.' writ in blood.

How goes the weather.?