Reposted from Scot-Irish. Thanks man.

Bobby Sands (Cinco de Mayo is NOT a holiday for everyone!)
Thanks to you Susan/Kate for the post

In 1981, Irish republican volunteers in a British jail on Irish soil undertook a fast to the death to retain their status as political prisoners. The British government, led by Margaret Thatcher, demanded they be classified as criminals. Ten men died on the doorstep of the British government in one of the most turbulent periods in the tragic history of Anglo-Irish relations.

Bobby Sands (27)
Began hunger strike on 1 March 1981 and died on 5 May 1981 after 66 days without food.

Francis Hughes (25)
joined hunger strike on 15 March 1981 and died on 12 May 1981 after 59 days without food.

Raymond McCreesh (24)
joined hunger strike on 22 March 1981 and died on 21 May 1981 after 61 days without food.

Patsy O'Hara (23)
joined hunger strike on 22 March 1981 and died on 21 May 1981 after 61 days without food.

Joe McDonnell (30)
joined hunger strike on 8 May 1981 and died on 8 July 1981 after 61 days without food.

Martin Hurson (29)
joined hunger strike on 28 May 1981 and died on 13 July 1981 after 46 days without food.

Kevin Lynch (25)
joined hunger strike on 23 May 1981 and died on 1 August 1981 after 71 days without food.

Kieran Doherty (25)
joined hunger strike on 22 May 1981 and died on 2 August 1981 after 73 days without food.

Thomas McElwee (23)
joined hunger strike on 8 June 1981 and died on 8 August 1981 after 62 days without food.

Michael Devine (27)
joined hunger strike on 22 June 1981 and died on 20 August 1981 after 60 days without food.


The Demands asked for by these 10 and the other Republican Prisoners

1) The right not to wear prison uniforms.
2) The right not to do prison work.
3) The right of free association with other prisoners.
4) The right to organize their own educational and recreational facilities.
5) The right to one visit, one letter and one parcel per week.


The demands of the Republican Prisoners today are not much different than they were then yet we have prisoners who are denied political status now and some Republicans have turned their backs on them. Remeber those who hungered for freedom, but do not forget those who are now without political status. So support the prisoners and do not let them make new martyrs.


I'm reposting the following from RAY COLLLINS, in case some of you don't get his Bulletins:

Bobby Sands

Bobby Sands was twenty seven years old when he died. He spent almost nine years of his life in prison because of his Irish Republican Activities. He died, in prison, on 5 May 1981, on the sixty sixth day of his hunger strike. Bobby Sands gained world-wide recognition due to his hunger strike which he refused to abandon, defiantly withstanding political and moral pressure. He also embarrassed the British establishment by being elected as MP to Westminster for Fermanagh and South Tyrone.

Books

Bobby Sands: Writings from Prison

Bobby Sands: One Day in My Life



Poem

The Rhythm Of Time: by Bobby Sands

There's an inner thing in every man,
Do you know this thing my friend?
It has withstood the blows of a million years,
And will do so to the end.

It was born when time did not exist,
And it grew up out of life,
It cut down evil's strangling vines,
Like a slashing searing knife.

It lit fires when fires were not,
And burnt the mind of man,
Tempering leandened hearts to steel,
From the time that time began.

It wept by the waters of Babylon,
And when all men were a loss,
It screeched in writhing agony,
And it hung bleeding from the Cross.

It died in Rome by lion and sword,
And in defiant cruel array,
When the deathly word was 'Spartacus' Along with Appian Way.

It marched with Wat the Tyler's poor,
And frightened lord and king,
And it was emblazoned in their deathly stare,
As e'er a living thing.

It smiled in holy innocence,
Before conquistadors of old,
So meek and tame and unaware,
Of the deathly power of gold.

It burst forth through pitiful Paris streets,
And stormed the old Bastille,
And marched upon the serpent's head,
And crushed it 'neath its heel.

It died in blood on Buffalo Plains,
And starved by moons of rain,
Its heart was buried in Wounded Knee,
But it will come to rise again.

It screamed aloud by Kerry lakes,
As it was knelt upon the ground,
And it died in great defiance,
As they coldly shot it down.

It is found in every light of hope,
It knows no bounds nor space
It has risen in red and black and white,
It is there in every race.

It lies in the hearts of heroes dead,
It screams in tyrants' eyes,
It has reached the peak of mountains high,
It comes searing 'cross the skies.

It lights the dark of this prison cell,
It thunders forth its might,
It is 'the undauntable thought', my friend,
That thought that says 'I'm right!'