To the black North, to Derry fair, a great “Historian” came,
Backed by the strength of all his clan, by Parnell’s mighty name,
His was the task, by wiles or force, to wrest the Virgin Crown
From the proud city by the Foyle, of siege’s great renown.
In vain the Separatist force, for naught their trumpets blown,
Derry has shown that she prefers a “history” of her own!
Coblentz, December 1885.
Londonderry City Election, 1913.
Hogg (N.) 2699.
Colonel Pakenham (C.) 2642.
Flow, Foyle, full of tears, not water, on to the main,
Past the wreck of the Boom, past Culmore, past MacGilligan,
Take to the ocean, wind-swept and wave-tossed,
Our story of pain.
Close gates, so heavy and ancient, brave Prentice boys,
Shut out the sea, shut off England, shut out the Union.
Shut out all links with our Empire, our trade and communion,
Our hopes and our joys!
Blow, black from the North, cold wind from Malin Head!
Take to our comrades in Leinster, in Connacht, in Munster,
The tale of our struggle, our work, our disaster
Our honour is dead.
January 31, 1913.