Liam MacGabhann


Liam MacGabhann was an Irish journalist born Reenglas House on Valentia Island, Co Kerry in 1908.
He married Phenie Franklin 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, 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.
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.'