by Holly and Séan (Mullahoran N.S.)
I walked into Patrick Briody’s
Opening the door all could see was
shoes, tools and more.
The crackling of the fire,
nice and warm it spired.
People would chat while their shoes
would be mended.
The window was just hanging in there
with only one pane of glass.
Only for the fire it would
be warmer outside.
One nice May day two policemen
opened the door.
Everyone went silent.
Their shoes were falling apart from
walking day and night.
They walked up to Patrick
and handed him their shoes.
“Forget your other customers we want
these good as new”.
Patrick took the shoes and got straight to work,
As all the other customers gave him dirty looks.
Walking out in a big huff and puff.
The policemen came back seven
grabbed their shoes and walked
to the door without taking a second look.
In a matter of days gossip broke
out about the policemen’s
regular visits to the cobbler’s hut.
Gossip about poor old Patrick
giving them information
on the IRA.
As the rumours get stronger
The IRA start to get suspicious of him.
They had a vote to shoot him
And they voted
Six to four.
The next day he walked through
his door for the last time.
On that cold summer’s night,
He was took out of bed whilst he asked
“Will I get dressed?”
But they chanted
“You won’t need clothes where you’re going”
They brought him down the road
About eight hundred yards.
He got down on his knees
and recited the rosary as he was shot.
Seventeen wounds to his body.
A paper with the words ‘Spies and informers beware- IRA
found attached to his blood laden clothes.
The scapular which he was wearing was shot into his body
enscribed ‘ Whosoever dies wearing this scapular
shall not suffer eternal fire’
I wonder did his executors suffer eternal fire?
Written by Holly and Séan as part of Poetry as Commemoration workshops for 6th Class, Mullahoran NS, Co. Cavan, led by Frank Galligan in May/ June 2022.