James Connolly, member of the
Provisional Government of Ireland and one of 7 signatories on the
Proclamation.
He was born in County Monaghan in 1870. His parents emigrated to
Edinburgh, where he became a wage earner at the age of 11. He
educated himself by reading extensively. After he married, he
returned to Ireland as a Socialist organizer. He edited the the
first Irish Socialist paper, The Worker's Republic. He spent
1903-1910 in America organizing workers. When James Larkin, the
Irish trade union pioneer, left Dublin for America in 1914,
Connolly inherited both the irish Transport and General Worker's
Union and the infant Citizens Army. which marched under the
banner of the Stars and Plough. He was a staunch believer in
women's rights and he would not tolerate any distinction, he even
chose Countess Constance Markievicz,to be one of his army
commanders, she was a a friend of W.B. Yeats.
While living in Belfast, Connolly helped the women workers. The
owners of the Belfast mills had imposed a "rule of
silence" on all the employees. "Connolly instructed the
mill girls that when they were forbidden to talk while at the
looms they were to break out in song and to continue singing. The
girls took his advice and proved that by cooperation, and
determination they could win their rights to decent
conditions,end the petty tyrannies to which they were daily
subjected". Taken from the Glorious Seven.
The words of the Proclamation which "Guarantee equal rights
and equal opportunities to all citizens, civil and religious
liberty" can be traced directly to the influence of
Connolly.
James Connolly was severely wounded while fighting in the G.P.O.
He was commander in chief of the Dublin forces. He was wounded
twice, but yet still was concerned with cheering the depressed
and he "praised the bold". He lay in a bed, but that
did not stop him.
Before the rising he knew they were doomed to failure and had
once remarked that they were all going to be
"slaughtered".
He was so seriously wounded that when he was executed on May 12,
with Sean MacDiarmada he had to be strapped into a chair.
( Poem leading into the song )
The man was all shot through that came to day into the Barrack Square
And a soldier I, I am not proud to say that we killed him there
They brought him from the prison hospital and to see him in that chair
I swear his smile would, would far more quickly call a man to prayer
Maybe, maybe I don't understand this thing that makes these rebels die
Yet all men love freedom and the spring clear in the sky
I wouldn't do this deed again for all that I hold by
As I gazed down my rifle at his breast but then, then a soldier I.
They say he was different, kindly too apart from all the rest.
A lover of the poor-his wounds ill dressed.
He faced us like a man who knew a greater pain
Than blows or bullets ere the world began: died he in vain
Ready, Present, and him just smiling, Christ I felt my rifle shake
His wounds all open and around his chair a pool of blood
And I swear his lips said, "fire" before my rifle shot that cursed lead
And I, I was picked to kill a man like that, James Connolly
( The song begins )
A great crowd had gathered Outside of
Kilmainhaim,
With their heads uncovered they knelt on the ground,
For inside that grim prison lay a brave Irish Soldier,
His life for his Country about to lay down,
He Went to his death like a true son of Ireland,
The firing party he bravely did face,
Then the order rang out: "Present arms, fire,"
James Connolly fell into a ready made grave.
The black flag they hoisted, the cruel deed was over,
Gone was a man who loved Ireland so well,
There was many a sad heart in Dublin that morning,
When they murdered James Connolly, the Irish Rebel.
God's curse on you England, you cruel-hearted monster
Your deeds they would shame all the devils in Hell
There are no flowers blooming but the shamrock is growing
On the grave of James Connolly, the Irish Rebel,
Many years have rolled by since that Irish rebellion,
When the guns of Britannia they loudly did speak.
The bold IRA they stood shoulder to shoulder
And the blood from their bodies flowed down Sackville Street
The Four Courts of Dublin the English bombarded,
The spirit of freedom they tried hard to quell,
But above all the din rose the cry "No Surrender",
'Twas the voice of James Connolly, the Irish Rebel.