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Black 47

Irish was honourable
He spoke for his woman
When a soldier insulted her
His blazing hair ignited
When he spat his words
In her defence
He smiled at his woman
And they were friends
He saw Irish crying one day
By the fort gate
He heard him say a word,
He wondered about the word
He asked him
He went to his people
They gathered together
170 dollars
For famine
Even though the son of an Irish man
His name was Jackson
Had driven them from their land
A word he would always remember

© Copyright 2016 by Jack Scoltock. All rights reserved

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