Page:Rudyard Kipling's verse - Inclusive Edition 1885-1918.djvu/279

 They knew whom they were talking at, if they were Irish too, The gentlemen that lied in Court, they knew, and well they knew!

They only took the Judas-gold from Fenians out of jail, They only fawned for dollars on the blood-dyed Clan-na-Gael. If black is black or white is white, in black and white it's down, They're only traitors to the Queen and rebels to the Crown.

"Cleared," honourable gentlemen! Be thankful it's no more:— The widow's curse is on your house, the dead are at your door. On you the shame of open shame; on you from North to South The hand of every honest man flat-heeled across your mouth.

"Less black than we were painted"?—Faith, no word of black was said; The lightest touch was human blood, and that, you know, runs red. It's sticking to your fist to-day for all your sneer and scoff, And by the Judge's well-weighed word you cannot wipe it off.

Hold up those hands of innocence—go, scare your sheep together, The blundering, tripping tups that bleat behind the old bell-wether; And if they snuff the taint and break to find another pen, Tell them it's tar that glistens so, and daub them yours again!