You don’t get to be racist and Irish.
You don’t get to be proud of your heritage,
Plights and fights for freedom,
While kneeling on the neck of another.
You’re not entitled to sing songs
Of heroes and martyrs,
Mothers and fathers who cried
As they starved in a famine.
Or of brave-hearted,
Soft-spoken
Poets and artists,
Lined up in a yard,
Blindfolded and bound,
Waiting for Godot,
And point-blank to sound.
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