Dear Mother
I hope you like this: it's the opening of my latest play
CROMWELL THE MUSICAL
(Cromwell’s Magical Tour Of Ireland)
By
Tom O’Brien
Act one
A ‘classroom’. English soldiers are being taught how to recognize Irish Catholics. A blackboard showing a drawing of a man. A preacher is lecturing them, ending by adding a six-inch tail to the backside of the drawing.
PREACH: You must be like the conquerors of Jerico; kill all that are,
Young men and old, children and maidens. And when you are
inside the city walls you must take up a child and use it as a
buckler of defense to keep yourself from being shot or
brained . Let not your work finish till the city’s gutters
run red with rivulets of blood
They are Papists, they are spawn of the Devil.
(he taps the drawing)
See! That’s how you recognize ‘em. By their tails. Six inches
at least. Every Irish papist ’as one.
SOLD 1: It’s true. At Hinchquinn we put dozens to the sword, and several
had tails this long (he indicates)
SOLD 2: What about their padres? ’Ave they got ‘em?
PREACH: Priests. They’re called priests. They ’ave ’em even longer.
Twelve inches or more. Now, you gets five pounds for every
one of them you brings in (pause) Dead or alive.
SOLD 2: The only good papist is a dead ’un…
PREACH: We must fear and love God.; and his teachings tell us that
the Court of Rome is now full of vipers, hypocrites and
children of the devil. And that its Church, formerly the most
holy of all Churches, has become the most lawless den
of thieves, the most shameless of brothels, the very kingdom
of sin, death and hell ; so that not even the antichrist, if he were
to come, could add to its wickedness.
SOLD 1: He be fiery, that Paisley
SOLD 2: The preacher? He’s not Paisley, he’s from Paisley
SOLD 1: Oh, I thought his name be Paisley
PREACH: So we are come to ask an account of the innocent blood
that has been shed in the great Popish massacres of
our people in this country, and to endeavour to bring to
account all who by appearing in arms shall justify the same.
At this point two drunken soldiers enter, singing, each with a tankard in his hand
SOLDIERS: Oh, we Roundheads and the Irish should be friends
Oh, we Roundhead and the Irish should be friends.
They may have horns and tails
But we likes their Irish ales
Oh, we Roundheads and the Irish should be friends
PREACH: You two! What blasphemies do you sing about?
(he takes the tankards)
And these…concoctions of the Devils brew!
(he empties the tankards)
Wherefore did you steal them?
Or perhaps some Papist bribed you for his life?
SOLD 3: No bribes – nor would any be accepted, your worship
We did our duty as soldiers of God.
(pause)
It was thirsty work…we helped ourselves to a
little of their…fare.
PREACH: You dare call yourselves soldiers of God? Drunkenness,
lechery, all the abominations of the flesh, how be you
fit to carry out God’s work?
SOLD 3: I dispatched five papists this very day. All are shaking
hands with Lucifer right now, I’ll wager.
SOLD 4: Aye, and me, too. Five more. Every one of them a heathen.
And one wore a tail this long. (indicates)
PREACH: Well… let us have no repetition of this.
And now let us pray for steadfastness in our
Preparations for Mr Cromwell’s upcoming visit…
A WANDERING MINSTREL enters. He acts as narrator throughout the performance. He sings, plays the lute, and generally carries the story forward.
MINSTREL: (sings)
Did they dare, did they dare to slay Owen Roe O’Neill
Yes, they slew with poison him they feared to meet with steel
May God wither up their hearts! May their blood cease to flow!
May they walk in living death, who poisoned Owen Roe.
Of course they killed him. Removed him with extreme prejudice
is, I think, the correct expression. Owen Roe O’Neill, the one
man in Ireland whom Oliver Cromwell feared.
The only man who could upset his plans
for the colonization of Ireland.
Remember Benburb, Mister Cromwell, where General Munroe
and his army of Scots were going to put a stop to Owen Roe’s
gallop?
(sings)
Munroe had his thousands arrayed at his back
With their puritan mantles, steel Morion and Jack
And with him fierce Conway and Blayney had come
To crush Owen Roe at the roll of a drum
We kept all that noontide, the foemen at play
Though we thought of their forays and burned for the fray
For our chief bade us wait, till the eve had begun
Then rush on the foe with our backs to the sun
There was panic before us and panic beside
As their horsemen fell back in a wild broken tide
And we swept them along by the Blackwater shore
Till we reddened its tide with the Puritans gore.
When the Battle of Benburb was over, the Blackwater river
was littered the Puritan dead who had perished with
the sun in their eyes. Owen Roe had outmaneuvered them,
then lured them in to a trap, driving them before him into
the swirling depths of the Blackwater.
The new Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, Mister Cromwell,
could expect a similar reception.
So they poisoned Owen Roe; presenting him with
a pair of poisoned slippers, at a ball, on the eve of his
departure for his campaign in the South.
Mournful music to signify the passing of a great soldier
Lights change to signify passing of time
Roars of cannon and shouts of enthusiastic crowd as Cromwell lands at Ringsend, on the outskirts of Dublin, on Aug 15th 1649.
CROMWELL enters, accompanied by an aide, (HASTINGS)
CROM: This rapturous welcome for a Republican?
Methinks I have landed in the wrong country
HAST: Dublin is the second city of the English Empire, my Lord.
We are among friends here. The Papists have been driven out.
They are scattered to the four corners of this miserable country
CROM: To Hell or to Connaught, that’s where they are bound
Now, forward to…to…?
HAST: Drogheda, my Lord
CROM: Who defends this Drogheda?
HAST: Sir Arthur Aston.
CROM: His strength?
HAST: They say about three thousand foot.
CROM: Aston? I remember him. A Royalist and a Papist.
And what is worse- an English one!
He almost lost his head to Essex at the battle of Reading.
Methinks he loses it here.
(he kneels down and prays)
Oh Lord thou knowest how busy I must be this day
If I should forget thee, do not thou forget me
BOTH: Amen.
Sounds of battle; cannon fire, clash of steel, screams, smoke etc. Cromwell bangs on garrison door.
CROM: Sir Arthur! Surrender or bring the judgment of God on
yourself and those barbarian wretches you command.
Silence from within. Sounds of battle, and massacre of those within the walls
CROM: (kneeling)
It has pleased God to bless this endeavour at Drogheda, where
the enemy were about three thousand strong. I believe we have
put to the sword the whole number.
We came as soldiers of God the Just, terrible as Death, relentless as
doom doing God’s judgment on the enemies of God.
In this very church of St Peter, a thousand of them we put to the sword,
fleeing hither and thither for safety.
This has been a great mercy. I wish that all honest hearts may
give the glory of this to God alone, to whom indeed the praise
of this mercy belongs…
Enter TWO GIRLS, pushed ahead of Hastings. They are disheveled, and their clothes are stained with blood
GIRL I: Murderers! Rapists! Slayers of women and children!
The curse of Maeve be on you and your descendants
for eternity
HAST: They were hiding in the crypt, my Lord.
GIRL 2: Lord Lieutenant Cromwell of Ireland, no less!
And tell me, did you look your King in the eye as you
marched him to his doom in your New Republic?
CROM: Aye. And then we cut off his head with the crown upon it.
As we shall sever the heads of the of the Royalist remnants
that inhabit this wretched country. Up the Republic!
HAST: What shall I do with them?
CROM: Do with them? Send them to the West Indies. Away from this
church that we know to be the Mother of Harlots and all the
abominations of the earth. Away from priestly interference, beads,
holy water and holy smoke, away from us who are the sons of the
martyrs whom their church butchered.
Spotlight on Wandering Minstrel
MINST: It had been the practice for years to send Irish girls – and boys –
into slavery in the West Indies, and Cromwell had only recently
received an ‘order’ from the Governor there for one thousand
Irish girls. (he takes out a letter)
This is his reply:
‘Concerning the young women, although we must use force in taking them up, yet it being so much for their own good, and likely to be of so great advantage to the public, it is not in the least doubted you may have such number of them as you think fit to make use upon this account. I desire to express as much zeal in this design as you would wish.
I also think it might be of advantage to your affairs there if you should see fit to accept two thousand young boys between the ages of twelve and fourteen. We could well spare them, and they would be of use to you. And who knows but that it may be the means to make them Englishmen, I mean rather Christians’
Ah, I see…it’s for their own good.
Selling them into slavery and it’s for their own good!
Come on now, boys and girls, take the medicine. It’ll probably
kill you, but sure what harm!
Return to scene with Cromwell and two girls
GIRL I: Have you children, my Lord? Sons and daughters, I mean?
CROM: Four Sons and four daughters.
Enough so you Papists won’t breed us out, anyway
(pause)
Three sons now.
The first of them fell at Nazeby
GIRL1: And you would send them to the West Indies?
You would send your children away from you?
CROM: I would rather cut my throat. They are the fairest brood
any man could wish for.
GIRL 1: Yet you would send us to a place as far away as
Heaven is from Hell.
CROM: By God, Hastings, where did you find this one?
HAST: I shall dispatch them at once, my Lord
Come on, you pair…
CROM: Let them be a moment
What is you name, girl?
GIRL 1: Emer
Cromwell looks at other girl
GIRL 2: Ethne
CROM: Well, Emer and Ethne, God is merciful this day…
EMIR: Your God is a butcher
ETHNE: He is not my God
CROM: God is merciful, and in his wisdom has sent you to me.
For a purpose. Hastings?
HAST: I know not, my Lord. Perhaps he wishes their conversion.
CROM: Will you give up your allegiance to Rome?
Repeat after me:
‘I abhor the authority of the Pope, and I firmly believe that no
reverence is due to the Virgin Mary, or any other saint in Heaven.
I assert that no worship is due to the sacrament of the Lord’s
Supper, or to the elements of bread and wine after consecration.
I believe there is no purgatory. I also firmly believe that
neither the Pope, nor any other priest can remit sin.
All this I swear’.
EMER: I believe in everything you abhor – and in the Hell where
you shall surely roast for all eternity.
I will say an act of contrition for your forgiveness…
(she kneels down, then blesses herself. After a moment so does Ethne)
BOTH: In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost
Oh Heavenly Father, we are heartily sorry for having offended thee…
CROM: Hastings! Run them out – or run them through!
Hastings hustles them out of the chamber, whilst Cromwell marches distractedly about.
CROM: Who will rid me of this accursed nation of priests
and sin-jobbers?
Spotlight on the wandering minstrel
MINST: (sings)
Ho! brother Tadgh what is your story?
I went to the wood and shot a Tory
I went to the wood and shot another
Was it the same or was it his brother?
I hunted him in, I hunted him out,
Through the bog and round and about
Till out of a bush I spied his head
So I leveled my gun and shot him dead!
Oh yes, they liked their R and R, Cromwell’s men.
You have all heard of the expression ‘fighting
like a pair of Kilkenny cats, haven’t you?
Well, that came about because the soldiers were
at a loose end in Kilkenny one day. No raping
and pillaging to do – or maybe it was all done.
Anyway someone came up with the idea of tying
two cats together by their tails, and letting them
fight it out. It was great sport!
Mind you, their sporting diversions weren’t limited to cats
No siree!
(pause)
Now, you might be forgiven for thinking that a
Tory was an English gentleman. Well, English
politician anyway. You would be wrong.
The name Tory derives from the Irish word torridh,
a pursued person. They were usually Irish soldiers
on the run from the Royalist army in Ireland. They
faced exile or death if they gave themselves up,
so they hid out in the hills and mountains.
Cromwell’s soldiers regarded it as good
days sport to go up into the hills and bag a few Tories.
Then of course there were priests. A day spent
hunting them could be very rewarding financially.
Officially worth five pounds a head, a bishop or a
really popular priest could fetch up to twenty pounds.
After capture, some were sent into exile, but many
weren’t that lucky
(reads)
Cashel: The Bishop of Ross, hands and feet cut off, then hanged…
Cashel: Dominican Friar, fingers and toes cut off, then hanged…
Clonmel: A Franciscan Friar drawn on the rack, hands and feet burnt,
then hanged
Arklow: Parish Priest tied to wild horses, dragged to Gorey, then hanged
Oh yes, they liked their R and R.
MINST: The reason Mr Cromwell was in Ireland was because the Irish had
risen in arms against the English oppressor. Their aim was simple;
drive out the English and Scottish colonists who had stolen their
lands, The rising of 1641 had been the natural outcome of the
great wrongs of the generations gone before. An army of thirty
thousand was raised in Ulster, the Confederation of Kilkenny
had proclaimed a new Parliament for Ireland, and Owen Roe
O’Neill was back from Spain with a fierce fighting force.
The English were on the run!
And then the English Civil War reared its ugly head. The Royalists were defeated, Catholic King Charles lost his head, there was a new Puritan fervor in England. Everything Popish must be obliterated; Rome must be ground into ashes.
And the biggest Roman colony of them all was Ireland!
Oliver Cromwell was sent in pacify the country
And boy, did that old pacifist pacify the place!
He stayed a mere nine months, but he left behind a country
devastated by, war, plague and famine. A person might travel
thirty miles and not see a living creature, either man, beast or
bird, they either all being dead or quit the desolate terrain. You
would hear stories of places where smoke was seen, it being so
rare to see smoke by day or candlelight by night. And when you
did see people, it was but aged men and women and children.
And they had become as bottles in the smoke, skin black as an oven.
Because of the terrible famine.
Where have all the young men gone
Gone to exile every one.
When will they return
When will they ever return
Oliver Cromwell left Ireland in May 1650, but the war raged on for
several more years, the resistance growing weaker and smaller with
the passing of time. The pacification was judged to have been
completed by the end of 1653, and a law was passed in the
English Parliament ordering that ‘under penalty of death, no
Irish man. woman, or child, is to let himself, herself ,or itself,
be found east of the River Shannon after 1st May 1654’
Cromwell’s order ‘TO HELL OR TO CONNAUGHT’
had finally come to pass
all sing
Oh Cromwell and the Irish will be friends
. etc etc...
your loving son
Tom
I hope you like this: it's the opening of my latest play
CROMWELL THE MUSICAL
(Cromwell’s Magical Tour Of Ireland)
By
Tom O’Brien
Act one
A ‘classroom’. English soldiers are being taught how to recognize Irish Catholics. A blackboard showing a drawing of a man. A preacher is lecturing them, ending by adding a six-inch tail to the backside of the drawing.
PREACH: You must be like the conquerors of Jerico; kill all that are,
Young men and old, children and maidens. And when you are
inside the city walls you must take up a child and use it as a
buckler of defense to keep yourself from being shot or
brained . Let not your work finish till the city’s gutters
run red with rivulets of blood
They are Papists, they are spawn of the Devil.
(he taps the drawing)
See! That’s how you recognize ‘em. By their tails. Six inches
at least. Every Irish papist ’as one.
SOLD 1: It’s true. At Hinchquinn we put dozens to the sword, and several
had tails this long (he indicates)
SOLD 2: What about their padres? ’Ave they got ‘em?
PREACH: Priests. They’re called priests. They ’ave ’em even longer.
Twelve inches or more. Now, you gets five pounds for every
one of them you brings in (pause) Dead or alive.
SOLD 2: The only good papist is a dead ’un…
PREACH: We must fear and love God.; and his teachings tell us that
the Court of Rome is now full of vipers, hypocrites and
children of the devil. And that its Church, formerly the most
holy of all Churches, has become the most lawless den
of thieves, the most shameless of brothels, the very kingdom
of sin, death and hell ; so that not even the antichrist, if he were
to come, could add to its wickedness.
SOLD 1: He be fiery, that Paisley
SOLD 2: The preacher? He’s not Paisley, he’s from Paisley
SOLD 1: Oh, I thought his name be Paisley
PREACH: So we are come to ask an account of the innocent blood
that has been shed in the great Popish massacres of
our people in this country, and to endeavour to bring to
account all who by appearing in arms shall justify the same.
At this point two drunken soldiers enter, singing, each with a tankard in his hand
SOLDIERS: Oh, we Roundheads and the Irish should be friends
Oh, we Roundhead and the Irish should be friends.
They may have horns and tails
But we likes their Irish ales
Oh, we Roundheads and the Irish should be friends
PREACH: You two! What blasphemies do you sing about?
(he takes the tankards)
And these…concoctions of the Devils brew!
(he empties the tankards)
Wherefore did you steal them?
Or perhaps some Papist bribed you for his life?
SOLD 3: No bribes – nor would any be accepted, your worship
We did our duty as soldiers of God.
(pause)
It was thirsty work…we helped ourselves to a
little of their…fare.
PREACH: You dare call yourselves soldiers of God? Drunkenness,
lechery, all the abominations of the flesh, how be you
fit to carry out God’s work?
SOLD 3: I dispatched five papists this very day. All are shaking
hands with Lucifer right now, I’ll wager.
SOLD 4: Aye, and me, too. Five more. Every one of them a heathen.
And one wore a tail this long. (indicates)
PREACH: Well… let us have no repetition of this.
And now let us pray for steadfastness in our
Preparations for Mr Cromwell’s upcoming visit…
A WANDERING MINSTREL enters. He acts as narrator throughout the performance. He sings, plays the lute, and generally carries the story forward.
MINSTREL: (sings)
Did they dare, did they dare to slay Owen Roe O’Neill
Yes, they slew with poison him they feared to meet with steel
May God wither up their hearts! May their blood cease to flow!
May they walk in living death, who poisoned Owen Roe.
Of course they killed him. Removed him with extreme prejudice
is, I think, the correct expression. Owen Roe O’Neill, the one
man in Ireland whom Oliver Cromwell feared.
The only man who could upset his plans
for the colonization of Ireland.
Remember Benburb, Mister Cromwell, where General Munroe
and his army of Scots were going to put a stop to Owen Roe’s
gallop?
(sings)
Munroe had his thousands arrayed at his back
With their puritan mantles, steel Morion and Jack
And with him fierce Conway and Blayney had come
To crush Owen Roe at the roll of a drum
We kept all that noontide, the foemen at play
Though we thought of their forays and burned for the fray
For our chief bade us wait, till the eve had begun
Then rush on the foe with our backs to the sun
There was panic before us and panic beside
As their horsemen fell back in a wild broken tide
And we swept them along by the Blackwater shore
Till we reddened its tide with the Puritans gore.
When the Battle of Benburb was over, the Blackwater river
was littered the Puritan dead who had perished with
the sun in their eyes. Owen Roe had outmaneuvered them,
then lured them in to a trap, driving them before him into
the swirling depths of the Blackwater.
The new Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, Mister Cromwell,
could expect a similar reception.
So they poisoned Owen Roe; presenting him with
a pair of poisoned slippers, at a ball, on the eve of his
departure for his campaign in the South.
Mournful music to signify the passing of a great soldier
Lights change to signify passing of time
Roars of cannon and shouts of enthusiastic crowd as Cromwell lands at Ringsend, on the outskirts of Dublin, on Aug 15th 1649.
CROMWELL enters, accompanied by an aide, (HASTINGS)
CROM: This rapturous welcome for a Republican?
Methinks I have landed in the wrong country
HAST: Dublin is the second city of the English Empire, my Lord.
We are among friends here. The Papists have been driven out.
They are scattered to the four corners of this miserable country
CROM: To Hell or to Connaught, that’s where they are bound
Now, forward to…to…?
HAST: Drogheda, my Lord
CROM: Who defends this Drogheda?
HAST: Sir Arthur Aston.
CROM: His strength?
HAST: They say about three thousand foot.
CROM: Aston? I remember him. A Royalist and a Papist.
And what is worse- an English one!
He almost lost his head to Essex at the battle of Reading.
Methinks he loses it here.
(he kneels down and prays)
Oh Lord thou knowest how busy I must be this day
If I should forget thee, do not thou forget me
BOTH: Amen.
Sounds of battle; cannon fire, clash of steel, screams, smoke etc. Cromwell bangs on garrison door.
CROM: Sir Arthur! Surrender or bring the judgment of God on
yourself and those barbarian wretches you command.
Silence from within. Sounds of battle, and massacre of those within the walls
CROM: (kneeling)
It has pleased God to bless this endeavour at Drogheda, where
the enemy were about three thousand strong. I believe we have
put to the sword the whole number.
We came as soldiers of God the Just, terrible as Death, relentless as
doom doing God’s judgment on the enemies of God.
In this very church of St Peter, a thousand of them we put to the sword,
fleeing hither and thither for safety.
This has been a great mercy. I wish that all honest hearts may
give the glory of this to God alone, to whom indeed the praise
of this mercy belongs…
Enter TWO GIRLS, pushed ahead of Hastings. They are disheveled, and their clothes are stained with blood
GIRL I: Murderers! Rapists! Slayers of women and children!
The curse of Maeve be on you and your descendants
for eternity
HAST: They were hiding in the crypt, my Lord.
GIRL 2: Lord Lieutenant Cromwell of Ireland, no less!
And tell me, did you look your King in the eye as you
marched him to his doom in your New Republic?
CROM: Aye. And then we cut off his head with the crown upon it.
As we shall sever the heads of the of the Royalist remnants
that inhabit this wretched country. Up the Republic!
HAST: What shall I do with them?
CROM: Do with them? Send them to the West Indies. Away from this
church that we know to be the Mother of Harlots and all the
abominations of the earth. Away from priestly interference, beads,
holy water and holy smoke, away from us who are the sons of the
martyrs whom their church butchered.
Spotlight on Wandering Minstrel
MINST: It had been the practice for years to send Irish girls – and boys –
into slavery in the West Indies, and Cromwell had only recently
received an ‘order’ from the Governor there for one thousand
Irish girls. (he takes out a letter)
This is his reply:
‘Concerning the young women, although we must use force in taking them up, yet it being so much for their own good, and likely to be of so great advantage to the public, it is not in the least doubted you may have such number of them as you think fit to make use upon this account. I desire to express as much zeal in this design as you would wish.
I also think it might be of advantage to your affairs there if you should see fit to accept two thousand young boys between the ages of twelve and fourteen. We could well spare them, and they would be of use to you. And who knows but that it may be the means to make them Englishmen, I mean rather Christians’
Ah, I see…it’s for their own good.
Selling them into slavery and it’s for their own good!
Come on now, boys and girls, take the medicine. It’ll probably
kill you, but sure what harm!
Return to scene with Cromwell and two girls
GIRL I: Have you children, my Lord? Sons and daughters, I mean?
CROM: Four Sons and four daughters.
Enough so you Papists won’t breed us out, anyway
(pause)
Three sons now.
The first of them fell at Nazeby
GIRL1: And you would send them to the West Indies?
You would send your children away from you?
CROM: I would rather cut my throat. They are the fairest brood
any man could wish for.
GIRL 1: Yet you would send us to a place as far away as
Heaven is from Hell.
CROM: By God, Hastings, where did you find this one?
HAST: I shall dispatch them at once, my Lord
Come on, you pair…
CROM: Let them be a moment
What is you name, girl?
GIRL 1: Emer
Cromwell looks at other girl
GIRL 2: Ethne
CROM: Well, Emer and Ethne, God is merciful this day…
EMIR: Your God is a butcher
ETHNE: He is not my God
CROM: God is merciful, and in his wisdom has sent you to me.
For a purpose. Hastings?
HAST: I know not, my Lord. Perhaps he wishes their conversion.
CROM: Will you give up your allegiance to Rome?
Repeat after me:
‘I abhor the authority of the Pope, and I firmly believe that no
reverence is due to the Virgin Mary, or any other saint in Heaven.
I assert that no worship is due to the sacrament of the Lord’s
Supper, or to the elements of bread and wine after consecration.
I believe there is no purgatory. I also firmly believe that
neither the Pope, nor any other priest can remit sin.
All this I swear’.
EMER: I believe in everything you abhor – and in the Hell where
you shall surely roast for all eternity.
I will say an act of contrition for your forgiveness…
(she kneels down, then blesses herself. After a moment so does Ethne)
BOTH: In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost
Oh Heavenly Father, we are heartily sorry for having offended thee…
CROM: Hastings! Run them out – or run them through!
Hastings hustles them out of the chamber, whilst Cromwell marches distractedly about.
CROM: Who will rid me of this accursed nation of priests
and sin-jobbers?
Spotlight on the wandering minstrel
MINST: (sings)
Ho! brother Tadgh what is your story?
I went to the wood and shot a Tory
I went to the wood and shot another
Was it the same or was it his brother?
I hunted him in, I hunted him out,
Through the bog and round and about
Till out of a bush I spied his head
So I leveled my gun and shot him dead!
Oh yes, they liked their R and R, Cromwell’s men.
You have all heard of the expression ‘fighting
like a pair of Kilkenny cats, haven’t you?
Well, that came about because the soldiers were
at a loose end in Kilkenny one day. No raping
and pillaging to do – or maybe it was all done.
Anyway someone came up with the idea of tying
two cats together by their tails, and letting them
fight it out. It was great sport!
Mind you, their sporting diversions weren’t limited to cats
No siree!
(pause)
Now, you might be forgiven for thinking that a
Tory was an English gentleman. Well, English
politician anyway. You would be wrong.
The name Tory derives from the Irish word torridh,
a pursued person. They were usually Irish soldiers
on the run from the Royalist army in Ireland. They
faced exile or death if they gave themselves up,
so they hid out in the hills and mountains.
Cromwell’s soldiers regarded it as good
days sport to go up into the hills and bag a few Tories.
Then of course there were priests. A day spent
hunting them could be very rewarding financially.
Officially worth five pounds a head, a bishop or a
really popular priest could fetch up to twenty pounds.
After capture, some were sent into exile, but many
weren’t that lucky
(reads)
Cashel: The Bishop of Ross, hands and feet cut off, then hanged…
Cashel: Dominican Friar, fingers and toes cut off, then hanged…
Clonmel: A Franciscan Friar drawn on the rack, hands and feet burnt,
then hanged
Arklow: Parish Priest tied to wild horses, dragged to Gorey, then hanged
Oh yes, they liked their R and R.
MINST: The reason Mr Cromwell was in Ireland was because the Irish had
risen in arms against the English oppressor. Their aim was simple;
drive out the English and Scottish colonists who had stolen their
lands, The rising of 1641 had been the natural outcome of the
great wrongs of the generations gone before. An army of thirty
thousand was raised in Ulster, the Confederation of Kilkenny
had proclaimed a new Parliament for Ireland, and Owen Roe
O’Neill was back from Spain with a fierce fighting force.
The English were on the run!
And then the English Civil War reared its ugly head. The Royalists were defeated, Catholic King Charles lost his head, there was a new Puritan fervor in England. Everything Popish must be obliterated; Rome must be ground into ashes.
And the biggest Roman colony of them all was Ireland!
Oliver Cromwell was sent in pacify the country
And boy, did that old pacifist pacify the place!
He stayed a mere nine months, but he left behind a country
devastated by, war, plague and famine. A person might travel
thirty miles and not see a living creature, either man, beast or
bird, they either all being dead or quit the desolate terrain. You
would hear stories of places where smoke was seen, it being so
rare to see smoke by day or candlelight by night. And when you
did see people, it was but aged men and women and children.
And they had become as bottles in the smoke, skin black as an oven.
Because of the terrible famine.
Where have all the young men gone
Gone to exile every one.
When will they return
When will they ever return
Oliver Cromwell left Ireland in May 1650, but the war raged on for
several more years, the resistance growing weaker and smaller with
the passing of time. The pacification was judged to have been
completed by the end of 1653, and a law was passed in the
English Parliament ordering that ‘under penalty of death, no
Irish man. woman, or child, is to let himself, herself ,or itself,
be found east of the River Shannon after 1st May 1654’
Cromwell’s order ‘TO HELL OR TO CONNAUGHT’
had finally come to pass
all sing
Oh Cromwell and the Irish will be friends
. etc etc...
your loving son
Tom
posted by tomobrien at 11:15 AM
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