Bobby Sands - In Picture, Word And Song
Today marks the 39th anniversary of the death of Vol. Bobby Sands after 66 days on hunger strike. Nine years before his death he had joined the IRA in response to his personal experience of sectarianism and the repression of the British state. He spent the majority of those nine years incarcerated in the cages of Long Kesh and in the H-Blocks.
Bobby Sands as a young boy. He and his family experienced increasing levels of anti-catholic sectarianism through the 1960s and early 1970s until they finally relocated to Twinbrook in West Belfast.
Bobby’s decision to join the IRA was far from unique. Thousands of other young Irish women and men of his generation made the same decision for much the same reasons. What made Bobby unique was his extraordinary leadership skills, his boundless courage and his unlimited selflessness. He was also an extremely talented writer and poet. Below we re-publish some his work.
Bobby Sands in the Cages during his first incarceration between 1972 and 1976. Much of his writing was completed while imprisoned.
Bobby’s unshakable commitment to the republican cause was cemented by his deep understanding of the historical context of the Irish struggle against British imperialism - a commitment he expressed in his poem ‘The Rhythm of Time’.
The Rhythm of Time
There’s an inner thing in every man,
Do you know this thing my friend?
It has withstood the blows of a million years,
And will do so to the end.
It was born when time did not exist,
And it grew up out of life,
It cut down evil’s strangling vines,
Like a slashing searing knife.
It lit fires when fires were not,
And burnt the mind of man,
Tempering leadened hearts to steel,
From the time that time began.
It wept by the waters of Babylon,
And when all men were a loss,
It screeched in writhing agony,
And it hung bleeding from the Cross.
It died in Rome by lion and sword,
And in defiant cruel array,
When the deathly word was ‘Spartacus’
Along the Appian Way.
It marched with Wat the Tyler’s poor,
And frightened lord and king,
And it was emblazoned in their deathly stare,
As e’er a living thing.
It smiled in holy innocence,
Before conquistadors of old,
So meek and tame and unaware,
Of the deathly power of gold.
It burst forth through pitiful Paris streets,
And stormed the old Bastille,
And marched upon the serpent’s head,
And crushed it ‘neath its heel.
It died in blood on Buffalo Plains,
And starved by moons of rain,
Its heart was buried in Wounded Knee,
But it will come to rise again.
It screamed aloud by Kerry lakes,
As it was knelt upon the ground,
And it died in great defiance,
As they coldly shot it down.
It is found in every light of hope,
It knows no bounds nor space
It has risen in red and black and white,
It is there in every race.
It lies in the hearts of heroes dead,
It screams in tyrants’ eyes,
It has reached the peak of mountains high,
It comes searing ‘cross the skies.
It lights the dark of this prison cell,
It thunders forth its might,
It is ‘the undauntable thought’, my friend,
That thought that says ‘I’m right!’
Bobby Sands taking part in a march on behalf of political prisoners passes Andersonstown Road Barracks in August 1976
Throughout his short life, Bobby Sands maintained an extremely close relationship with his mother Rosaleen, as demonstrated in his poem ‘Dear Mum’. The sentiments within it echos those of ‘The Mother’ written by Patrick Pearse more than six decades earlier.
Dear Mum
Dear Mum, I know you’re always there
To help and guide me with all your care,
You nursed and fed me and made me strong
To face the world and all its wrong.
What can I write to you this day
For a line or two would never pay
For care and time you gave to me
Through long hard years unceasingly.
How you found strength I do not know
How you managed I’ll never know,
Struggling and striving without a break
Always there and never late.
You prayed for me and loved me more
How could I ask for anymore
And reared me up to be like you
But I haven’t a heart as kind as you.
A guide to me in times of plight
A princess like a star so bright
For life would never have been the same
If I hadn’t of learned what small things came.
So forgive me Mum just a little more
For not loving you so much before,
For life and love you gave to me
I give my thanks for eternity.
Rosalenn Sands walking behind the coffin of her first born child, Bobby.
A number of Bobby’s songs and poems were adapted and put to music by others. The most famous of these was originally entitled ‘The Voyage’ but was reconfigured and put into song by Christy Moore and released on the ‘Ride On’ album in 1984 under the new title of ‘Back Home in Derry’. The song is set in the aftermath of the 1798 and 1803 Rebellions when many Irish republicans were transported into penal servitude in Van Diemen’s Land and the Australian mainland.
The Voyage
It was 1803 when we sailed out to sea
And away from the sweet town of Derry
For Australia bound and if we didn’t drown
The mark of the fetter we’d carry.
Our ship was The Gull, fourteen days out of Hull
And on orders to carry the croppy
Like a ghost in the night she sailed out of sight
Leaving many a wee’an unhappy.
In our rusty iron chains well we sighed for our wee’ans
And our good wives we’d left in our sorrow
And the main sails unfurled our curses we hurled
At the English and the thought of tomorrow.
At the mouth of the Foyle we bade farewell to our soil
And the sea turned as blue as the heavens.
The breeze filled our sails of a yellowish pale
And the captain lay drunk in his cabin.
The Gull cut the sea carving our destiny
And the sea spray rose white and came flying.
O’Docherty screamed, awoken out of his dreams
By a vision of bold Robert dying.
The sun burnt us cruel as they dished out the gruel
And Dan O’Connor lay dying with fever.
Sixty rebels today, bound for Botany Bay,
God, how many would reach the receiver.
I cursed them to hell as our bows fought the swell
And we danced like a moth in the firelight.
White horses rode by as the devil passed by
Taking ten souls to Hades in the twilight.
Five weeks out to sea we were now forty-three
And the strongest wept bitter like children.
Jesus, we screeched and our God we beseeched
But all we got was a prayer from a pilgrim.
In our own smelling slime we were lost in time
Hoping God in his mercy would claim us.
But our spirits shone high like stars in the sky
We were rebels and no man would tame us.
We were all about lost, two round score was our cost
When the man on the mast shouted, “Land hoe!”
The crew gave a cheer as we cradled our fear
And the fathoms gave up and we swam low.
Van Diemen’s land a hell for a man
Who would live out his whole life in slavery,
Where the climate was raw and the gun made the law
And neither wind or the rain cared for bravery.
Twenty long years have gone and I’ve ended my bond
And my comrades’ ghosts walk behind me.
A rebel I came and I died just the same
It’s on the cold wind at night that you’ll find me.
In life Bobby Sands fought against British imperialism with every tool at his disposal, up to and including his own body. He keenly understood the incredible power of the written word, which he used to inspire others and to document his own experiences in jail and on hunger strike.
Almost four decades after his death, Bobby’s words continue to inspire new generations of Irish citizens to join the fight for a new all-Ireland Republic.
“They have nothing in their whole imperial arsenal that can break the spirit of one Irishman who doesn’t want to be broken.” - Bobby Sands.
Bobby Sands’ funeral procession on the way to Milltown Cemetery, May 7th 1981