Liam MacGabhann
Liam MacGabhann (born William Cyprian Smith) (1908–1979) was an Irish journalist born at Laharan, Valentia Island, Co Kerry in 1908. He married Phenie (Tryphena) Franklin (b. 1917 Middlesbrough, England) and had three children Jack, Richard and Dorothy. Having started his career as a national school teacher on Valentia, he attended an interview for a post as film critic for the Irish Press. He was honest about his lack of knowledge, explaining that he had only heard of Greta Garbo and had been to a Mickey Mouse film, he was given the job anyway. MacGabhann worked for The Irish  Press, was Irish editor The People Newspaper (1956), News Editor of The Irish Times, worked for This Week magazine and was one of the founding editors of the Sunday World. He died after a series of strokes in 1979 in Dublin. Connolly poem. James Connolly - Poem by Liam MacGabhann The poem was written by Liam MacGabhann. He wrote in "Rags, Robes and Rebels" that it was based on reading comments made by the son of a Welsh miner who was part of Connolly's firing squad who later asked Connolly's relatives to forgive him. Connolly The man was all  shot through that came today Into the barrack square; A soldier I - I am not proud to say We killed him there; They brought him from the prison hospital; To see him in that chair I thought his smile would far more quickly call A man to prayer. Maybe we cannot understand this thing That makes these rebels die; And yet all things love freedom - and the Spring Clear in the sky; I think I would not do this deed again For all that I hold by; Gaze down my rifle at his breast - but then A soldier I.  They say that he was kindly - different too, Apart from all the rest; A lover of the poor; and all shot through, His wounds ill drest, He came before us, faced us like a man, He knew a deeper pain Than blows or bullets - ere the world began; Died he in vain? Ready - present; And he just smiling - God! I felt my rifle shake His wounds were opened out and round that chair Was one red lake; I swear his lips said 'Fire!' when all was still Before my rifle spat That cursed lead - and I was picked to kill  A man like that! VALENTIA I can hear the wild music of river and fall. But the breezes are bearing a soft, gentle call. It's calling me home, 'tis sweet singing stream. That flows thro’ the woodland of lovely Glanleam. Ah, my heart is nigh breaking with longing and pain. Dear home! Will you comfort your exile again? In dawning's clear brightness, in evening's soft gloam. There's no place on earth like my own Island home. Liam MacGabhann 1932 Blind Man at Croke Park Listen, asthore, for these eyes are sealed, Listen once more, when Kerrymen  take the field, Tell an old man who saw them in days of old, Do they walk proudly in their green and gold? Listen, asthore, when Kerry take the field, Tell me when they attack and when they yield; Say if they fail; asthore, I'm blind and old, Tell me they'll not dishonour the green and gold.'