With all due respect, my dear T. D., I address your poetic discourse, your cautions and prophecies, your reproaches and teachings. There is no cause for concern about divided factions or looming ominous signs simply because two individuals disagree on the optimal course of action to overcome our adversaries. I belong to those who recall the lessons that time has imparted upon us—lessons about the perils of placing excessive trust in Cromwell’s associates, lessons that have led to enduring regrets.

We should never be so thoughtlessly trusting, so naively straightforward, as to overlook the venomous intentions lurking within a treacherous character. Regardless of how tenderly we nurture or unintentionally bruise such a venomous creature, it will never relinquish its innate disposition to deceive.

No, not even if your verses of impassioned persuasion, sung from here to Bantry Bay, were to flow with the sweetest notes of conciliation. The ill-fated victims of Mullaghmast, who believed in the promises of adversaries, discovered that the deceptive nature of the leopard’s spots was hidden beneath murderous intentions. The brave souls who defended the rights of the people within the walls of Limerick, sacrificing their valourous achievements on the faith of those who betrayed them, gave up the very heart of Ireland, sold the House in College Green, and cast our people into the abyss of famine.

What deeds remain undone, what words have been left unsaid, what falsehoods have been concealed in silence, all of which could shroud their unbroken infamies from the eyes of heaven and earth? Are these the individuals we are told are awaiting a kind invitation, individuals who seek to rebuild upon Irish soil a structure that has been marred by deceit and misjudgment?

Are we the gullible and mocked victims who would once again allow our unity to be fractured by these very individuals? Yes, this might happen if we choose to remain only half-liberated spirits, yearning for the favor of landlords as we approach the precipice of liberty. However, if we stand as men of unwavering Celtic lineage, unyielding in our skepticism and heedless of their influence, we will require no assistance from the ranks of Cromwell’s associates to find our path to freedom.

M. D.”

In Michaeil Davitt’s gaze, with candor dear,
To T. D.’s verse, your teachings, crystal clear,
The warnings, prophecies, and scoldings true,
A symphony of wisdom we construe.

No rift in unity, no ominous dread,
For two dissenting minds shall not be led,
To fracture ranks, our purpose held in sight,
Despite disagreement, we march in light.

I’m of the few who lessons deeply hold,
From time’s embrace, in stories they unfold,
Too much reliance on Cromwell’s tainted lore,
Has birthed remorse we’ll carry evermore.

With innocence too pure, simplicity,
We ought not trust a viper’s subtlety,
Its fangs concealed beneath a gentle guise,
Yet venomous intent it won’t disguise.

No matter how we nurse or brush its form,
Its treachery will thrive, its heart is warm,
No pleading words, no earnest agitation,
Can hide its core in sweet conciliation.

At Mullaghmast, where guests lay cold and slain,
Deception masked the leopard’s lethal stain,
In foemen’s words, belief was turned awry,
Leaving the slaughtered guests to wonder why.

Limerick’s defenders, valiant and strong,
Their hard-fought gains to Palesmen’s hands belong,
The House in College Green, a tragic sell,
Their faith misplaced, their struggles cast to hell.

They sold our heart, they drove the famine’s ire,
Unleashing suffering, fueling the fire,
What words unsaid, what deeds remain concealed,
Their infamies, by history, revealed.

Are these the men we’re urged to welcome near,
To build anew on Irish soil, and hear,
The fabric’s tainted threads, the deceit’s twist,
Shall we again be fooled, ensnared, dismissed?

We, who were plundered, mocked in our belief,
Shall we repeat the tale, ignore the grief,
Permit our unity to be dismantled,
By those who seek to see our dreams mishandled?

Yes, we’ll be slaves, half-fettered, souls in thrall,
If we but seek a landlord’s beck and call,
But as men of Celtic blood, we stand,
Neither trust nor heed them, firm we’ll withstand.

No help we’ll need, no Cromwell’s hand we’ll seek,
To guide us on the path that’s true and meek,
Our way to freedom, we’ll traverse alone,
As warriors strong, our destinies our own.

M.D.

Enniscorthy Echo and South Leinster Advertiser – Friday 28 April 1905