‘Song of Ireland. Air – “Paddies Evermore”. I want my four green fields’
The song uses the refrain ‘Up Plunkett and McGuinness! For I want my four green fields'. Joseph McGuinness contested the 1917 South Longford by-election. At that time, he was prison in Lewes, Sussex, for his part in the 1916 Rising.
Details
- Level of description
- Item
- Date
- 1917
- Reference
- 3
- Extent and medium
- 1 p.; Printed
- Scope and content
- The song uses the refrain ‘Up Plunkett and McGuinness! For I want my four green fields'. Joseph McGuinness contested the 1917 South Longford by-election. At that time, he was prison in Lewes, Sussex, for his part in the 1916 Rising.
- Repository
- Irish Capuchin Archives
- Context
- Irish Capuchin Archives > Capuchin Papers relating to the Irish Revolution > Pamphlets, Cartoons and Publicity Material > Elections
Annotations
Rights
- Rights
- Copyright held by the respective institution. Contact the archive for reproduction permissions.
Related Items
Extracted Mentions
People, places, and terms identified via handwriting recognition and named entity recognition.
Sample passages
- I WANT MY FOUR GREEN FIELDS.
- green fields.
- Up Plunkett and McGuinness ! for I want my four
Full Transcript (OCR, 1 pages)
Machine-generated OCR transcript. Handwritten material may contain recognition errors.
Page 1
Song of Ireland. Air—“ Paddies Evermore.” I WANT MY FOUR GREEN FIELDS. Let craven fear of Carson and his Covenanters true Make Redmond and his tools forget the work they have to do. No more I'll trust mouth-friendship that in time of danger yields: Up Plunkett and McGuinness ! for I want my four green fields. Seven hundred years I'm fighting for the land that was my own,. And now at last from martyrs' blood a gallant race has grown. The odds may be against us, but a double power he wields Whose cause is right—Up, Irishmen ! I want my four green fields. My children went to beg for me into the Stranger's hall, And called on British chivalry, as sheep on wolf might call. And some were bribed to silence ! some—ah ! what a tale to tell Of disappointed hopes around the grave of Stewart Parnell. The flame of burning Dublin town, like Tara's fire of old, Has spread from hill to hill, I know—and never will grow cold, The great world's eyes have seen it, and her ears have heard my voice, Nations in Council ! British talk-shop ? Choose—you have your choice. Now, men of Longford, yours to say that never child of mine Shall go to England, cap in hand, in vain to beg and whine. Four-hundred-pounders' logic, sure, self-interest vainly shields. Up, Plunkett and McGuinness ! for I want my four green fields.