The Wings of a Sparrow

Here’s a brief verse I overheard as a boy in the 1980’s when visiting Crossmaglen, South Armagh. The reciter was a boy of 9, my own age. It’s a timeless piece articulating the perpetual feeling of bitterness and ill will that many in this part of the world feel towards the British establishment in London. And with Brexit threatening the daily lives of people north and south of the border, there’s no better time to give it another airing.


Reply, I'm all eyes.

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