SEARC'S WEB GUIDE - Timothy Daniel Sullivan (1827-1914)

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19th Century Ireland - Timothy Daniel Sullivan (1827-1914)

Timothy Daniel Sullivan, brother of Alexander Martin Sullivan, was born in Bantry, County Cork. In the 1850's he contributed poems to The Nation and founded the National Petition movement. In 1867 he composed the poem God save Ireland in response to Edmund O'Meager Condon's speech from the dock in Manchester. When 'the Manchester martyrs', Michael Larkin, William Phillip Allen and Michael O'Brien were executed, Sullivan's God Save Ireland became the Fenian Anthem.
In 1868 Sullivan published his first volume of poetry Greenleaves. He was elected an MP for West Meath in 1880 and in 1886 he became Mayor of Dublin. A committed Land Leaguer Sullivan 'offended' Dublin Castle and was imprisoned in Tullamore Jail where he composed Lays of Tullamore Prison (1888). T.D. Sullivan, unlike his brother Alexander, later opposed Charles Stewart Parnell's Irish Party. In 1905 Sullivan published Recollections of Troubled Times in Irish Politics.©

Timothy Daniel Sullivan (1827-1914)

Tullamore Jail
Oh, Tullamore Jail is a charming place -
Bang the bolts and clatter the tins.
'Tis loyality's school for the Irish race -
At 6 am the trouble begins.
Rub, and scrub, and tramp away,
Pull, and pick, and hammer all day
Smash the stones and turn the clay -
And mourn for your political sins.

A dear old man is Featherstone-Haugh -
Bang the bolts and clatter the tins.
As tender and sweet as a circular saw -
At 6 am the trouble begins.
Jingle, Jangle goes the bell,
Up on your feet and out of your cell,
Wishing the Government - say - too well,
So turn from your political sins.

The convict garb is nice to wear -
Bang the bolts and rattle the tins.
Skilly and crusts are a wholesome fare -
At 6 am the trouble begins.
Whatever you loose in girth and weight,
However your health and strength abate,
'Tis gain and glory for the State -
So mourn for your political sins.

But though 'tis said these things are so -
Bang the bolts and clatter the tins.
The system fails with men I know -
At 6 am the trouble begins.
Fed or famishing, well or ill,
Their hearts are warm for Ireland still,
With love no tyrant's power can kill -
And pride in their political sins.

© Searc's Web Guide 1997-2007

19th Century Ireland
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