Life, 1923-03-15 · page 23 of 36
Life — March 15, 1923 — page 23: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page presents an Irish nationalist poem lamenting internal conflict during Ireland's struggle for independence (likely early 1920s, during the Irish Civil War). The poem, signed "S.B.," uses the Irish tricolor flag colors to symbolize Ireland itself, depicting it as a nation suffering from fratricidal violence—"brother shoots down brother"—rather than external oppression. The accompanying sketch shows soldiers or armed men in what appears to be a prison or confined space, visually reinforcing the poem's theme of internal strife and captivity. Below is a separate joke: a Sunday School teacher asks a pupil what happens if one breaks the Commandments; the pupil quips "there would be nine left"—dark humor suggesting many commandments are already broken, likely referencing the violence described above. The satire critiques both the violence plaguing Ireland and, implicitly, religious hypocrisy amid such bloodshed.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
‘LIFE - The Orange, White and Green H, Paddy dear, and did ye hear the news that’s going round? The name of law in Ireland is but an empty sound! You take your life in both your hands wherever you may go, For brother shoots down brother from behind the hedge’s row. O Erin, blind old Erin, you bleed at every pore! O Erin, poor old Erin, your heart is aching sore! You're the most distressful country that ever yet was n, ‘Tis murder, waste and ruin ‘neath the Orange, White and Green! Yes, in the name of Liberty we fight against our own! No tyrant in a blood-red coat, but our own flesh and bone. In city street and country lane, our dead are lying deep, And many shot down at the door, or killed whilst fast asleep! Awake and rise, O Erin, and bid these crimes to cease. Pray, all ye Irish women, for the blessed day of peace. We're the most disrupted country that ever yet was seen, God give us power to save our flag, the Orange, White and Green! Our sod is soaked with Irish blood, the sky glares red at night. If vengeance cries for vengeance—sure there's never end in sight! If we're not fit to govern yet, we'll wear the yoke again, God save you, poor old Ireland now, from more dread years of pain! Oh, the songs that tore our heartstrings,—must we sing them all once more? Oh, the wild laments and dirges that our parents sang of yore! We're the most disrupted country that ever yet was seen, Must we defeat our hopes, and lower the Orange, White and Green! q 4 a STs Sunday School Teacher: What if you should break one of the Commandments? Pupil: There would be nine left. comicbooks.com