Joseph Mary Plunkett

As religious poets go few with him to compare
And his poems about them have a beauty that is rare
And it was for love of Country that he died
And courage of him could never be denied.

Executed by the British in nineteen sixteen
But his name will live for as long as Ireland's fields are green
Against the occupying forces he had made a stand
And he paid with his life for his love of Ireland.

Before he died in Kilmainham jail his sweetheart Grace Gifford he wed
And hours later to the prison yard he was led
To face the firing squad his last song he had sung
But 'tis often said only the good die young.

Of Joseph Mary Plunkett it would be fair to say
That he did not deserve to die in such a way
To his Faith and his Country he was true
And credit him since credit he is due.

His life taken from him when his genius was in flower
Though in the pen there is a magical power
And millions since into obscurity have gone
But the name of Joseph Mary Plunkett still lives on.