Pauline Power writes:

…my poem for the water charges protest to add to the others which I have found very inspiring. I marched against PAYE in the 1970s and Ronald Reagan in the 1980s and today I am back on the streets. I would be grateful if you would share this around. I do not have a Facebook or twitter. I am 71 in January!

For The Day That’s In It
Now is the time to be counted
Our most precious resources change hands
Everyone watches the money go round
X marks the spot where it lands

Contract or not, they will crush you
Unless we all make the same stand
Sing out, all you brothers and sisters!
Everyone’s part of the band

Farmers and welders and till-girls
Old folks and bold folks and shams
Right left and centre, we all stand together
Sing out and we’ll take back our land!

Hear the authorities tremble
In cop-shops where force was once planned
This time we’re there in our thousands
Politicians, your time is at hand!

Out on the streets if you’re Irish!
Each boy girl and woman and man!
This is the day we seize freedom
Rise up and be part of the band!
You’re Irish and this is YOUR land!

(Pic: Sam Boal, Photocall Ireland)

Anon (because he/she is skipping work today) writes:

I know I’m no John Moynes but would you care to share my scribblings in advance of [today’s] march.

Remember remember the 10th of December
the day that the government fell
Remember the reason the people cried treason
and cursed this corruption to hell

Remember the cops, when they handed out knocks
and threw women across public streets
Then they stood at your gate representing the state
and a tax exile’s firm GMC

Remember the day when the riot squad came
to respond to a water balloon
Then they pepper sprayed kids while the government hid
in their luxury black saloons

Remember the press who tried to repress
the voices outside the élite
See the journos have views but they call it the news
And they rarely are seen on the streets

I know of no reason why state television
would vilify people like me
Unless of course you’ve read the reports
that they’re after a broadcasting fee

See it’s not just the water, my blood’s boiling over
Because of this cozy cartel
But in spite of their threats, they never will get
a cent for a litre from me

So we’ll march on the Dáil, ’till the government fall
and the Shannon and Liffey flow free
Just give us fair taxation, including corporations,
And we’ll all just go home for our tea.

Nice meter.

Meter.

Oh, never mind.