by Amy, Ben, Shannon & Daniel (Mullahoran N.S.)
It was a breezy day,
You could hear the wind rustling in the leaves,
As I strolled by to the shoemaker shop,
I walked in,
It was already busy even though it was half
He was working until the crack of dawn and didn’t even let
out a yawn,
The seats were wooden,
The shoes were leather and it even gets better.
The smell of smoke made me choke.
The sound of the crackling fire as it went
higher and higher.
The constable who walks district miles comes to
Patrick Briody for him to fix his shoes,
Once he was gone it wasn’t long until there was
whispering rumours throughout Mullahoran,
And even the IRA Court got the news and voted six to four,
To put an end to Briody,
Soon enough there was a knock,
But what he didn’t know was it was his last time walking
out the door.
It wasn’t until seven in the morning he was seen again,
but this time he
was lying down covered in blood.
Attached to his neck his blooded scapular
which read “whosoever dies wearing this scapular shall not suffer eternal fire.”
Written by Amy, Ben, Shannon & Daniel as part of Poetry as Commemoration workshops for 6th Class, Mullahoran NS, Co. Cavan, led by Frank Galligan in May/ June 2022.