Don’t believe the rhetoric br The sea of soundbites br Honouring our ‘heroes’. br In this Celtic Tiger br It’s wealth by stealth br While boys still drink br Cider on street corners. br And then a week for Becket br For idle snobs to divulge: br ‘He was the greatest writer ever.’ br His grave trembles whitely… br The slick tongue of high office br Bellows out, br ‘Drive safely this weekend.’ br The busiest weekend of the year br As he speeds away br In his Mercedes Benz. br Bring in a reserve force! br Build walls around sheds. br Oh, heroes of 1916… br The rhetoric, the rhetoric. br They were slated br While they were here. br Now they’re gone, br ‘how precious they were.’ br Deluded rhetoric br In the land of ‘welcomes’, br Land of craic, land of drink. br This place will eat your soul, br Topple warriors, br Chase them to foreign lands br Or hang them gently. br Hot knife in the heart! br Until mourning comes and br In a distant removed time br A government’s need br Will pray for their revival br And lay a beautiful wreath.