The O’Rahilly

The O'Rahilly WB Yeats 1936

Sing of The O'Rahilly, Do not deny his right; Sing a "The" before his name; Allow that he, despite All those learned historians, Established it for good; He wrote out that word himself, He christened himself with blood. How goes the weather?

Sing of The O'Rahilly That had such little sense 
He told Pearse and Connolly 
He'd gone to great expense 
Keeping all the Kerry men 
Out of that crazy fight; 
That he might be there himself 
Had travelled half the night. 
How goes the weather? "Am I such a craven that 
I should not get the word 
But for what some travelling man 
Had heard I had not heard?" 
Then on Pearse and Connolly 
He fixed a bitter look: 
"Because I helped to wind the clock 
I come to hear it strike." 
How goes the weather? What remains to sing about 
But of the death he met 
Stretched under a doorway 
Somewhere off Henry Street; 
They that found him found upon 
The door above his head 
"Here died The O'Rahilly. 
R.I.P." writ in blood. 
How goes the weather? — Song setting © by Frank Callery 2014.