pdmac46

The bark of a dog breaks the silence
Like a bitter last hurrah
And a raven spreads it's wings for flight
Over fields near Beál Na mBláth
With a rifle still clasped to his breast
But hanging low his head
A black August day in the County Cork
Michael Collins is dead

Hang out your brightest colours
His memory now recall
Each one wants a part of him
But no-one wants it all

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