1916 Poem by Mai Murphy Venn

1916

They're celebrating 1916 in Dublin, the fair city of Ireland.
Where the government ruled the country like nasty regime.
Where the people are dying on the street for the want of a home.
Where more are losing their homes over mortgages they can’t pay.
Where children wonder where will they sleep to night, to morrow, the next day.
Where our sick are treated so badly, lying on trolleys in the hospital's hall.
Where goverment are charging for water and for homes that are our own.
Where the Teoieacht flies over to America just to have a chat with Obama.
Where the rest of his cabinet goes all over the globe to wet the Shamrock.
Did the men in 1916 ever think that the citizens would be treated so dreadfully?
By their own Irish government 100 year later, those who should defend the deprived.