once upon a time

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Flags, music, drums, cow pats.
Crowds of people reminiscing.
Mayhem of today controlled.
Unlike our yesterdays when ten good men died.
A dirge is the only music heard.
This land cried in 81.

Now, today, in honour of ten men dead the music swells majestically.
Lifting our thoughts into dream-time.
We follow in the footsteps of ten good men
Treading their corridors in the H blocks of British hell.
The cow pats stood upon in fields of Camlough
Cannot convey the depredation of the brave souls left to die,
By British intransigence, smeared in their own excrement.

Today we celebrate the glory of their selflessness.
A people tread the freedom road marked out by ten true Irishmen.
Condemned to die by Maggie Thatcher's perversity.
Now we stand in our field of dreams listening as songs are sung.

Honouring those true ten  dead men.  
People gathered from all corners of our one world
Listen and remember the blanket men.
Also let us not forget the women in Armagh jail.
All fought so that today we may speak of liberty.

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