Though I Have Usually Posed

There Can Be No Perfect Europe In Which Ireland Is Denied Even The Least Of Its National Rights.

The Irishman Frees Himself From Slavery When He Realizes The Truth That The Capitalist System Is The Most Foreign Thing In Ireland. The Irish Question Is A Social Question. The Whole Age-long Fight Of The Irish People Against Their Oppressors Resolves Itself In The Last Analysis Into A Fight For The Mastery Of The Means Of Life, The Sources Of Production, In Ireland. Who Would Own And Control The Land? The People, Or The Invaders; And If The Invaders, Which Set Of Them - The Most Recent Swarm Of Land Thieves, Or The Sons Of The Thieves Of A Former Generation?

All These Mountains Of Irish Dead, All These Corpses Mangled Beyond Recognition, All These Arms, Legs, Eyes, Ears, Fingers, Toes, Hands, All These Shivering Putrefying Bodies And Portions Of Bodies Once Warm Living And Tender Parts Of Irish Men And Youths - All These Horrors In Flanders Or The Gallipoli Peninsula, Are All Items In The Price Ireland Pays For Being Part Of The British Empire.

However It May Be For Others, For Us Of The Citizen Army There Is But One Ideal - An Ireland Ruled, And Owned, By Irish Men And Women, Sovereign And Independent From The Centre To The Sea, And Flying Its Own Flag Outward Over All The Oceans.

No Revolutionary Movement Is Complete Without Its Poetical Expression.