O what has made that sudden noise? What
on the threshold stands? It
never crossed the sea because John
Bull and the sea are friends; But
this is not the old sea Nor
this the old seashore. What
gave that roar of mockery, That
roar in the sea’s roar? The
ghost of Roger Casement Is
beating on the door. John
Bull has stood for Parliament, A
dog must have his day, The
country thinks no end of him, For
he knows how to say, At
a beanfeast or a banquet, That
all must hang their trust Upon
the British Empire, Upon
the Church of Christ. The
ghost of Roger Casement Is
beating on the door. John
Bull has gone to India And
all must pay him heed, For
histories are there to prove That
none of another breed Has
had a like inheritance, Or
sucked such milk as he, And
there’s no luck about a house If
it lack honesty. The
ghost of Roger Casement Is
beating on the door. I
poked about a village church And
found his family tomb And
copied out what I could read In
that religious gloom; Found
many a famous man there; But
fame and virtue rot. Draw
round, beloved and bitter men, Draw
round and raise a shout; The
ghost of Roger Casement Is beating on the door. |
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