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January 22nd 2018

The Wondrous Victory O’er the Embryo

My brother-in-law Alec O’Connor, who died last week, was something of a prophet. Way back in the mid-90s, not much more than a decade after the passing of the Eighth Amendment, he could see that an attempt to overturn the result of the Pro-Life Referendum was bound to come sooner or later, and that such an attempt, backed by powerful political and media forces, would be very likely to succeed. Hence His poem, “The Wondrous Victory O’er the Embryo” which I was delighted to carry in the April 1994 issue of the Brandsma Review.

The debate so far has been, in accordance with the wishes of Taoiseach Leo Varadkar, polite and civilised. This has been very much to the advantage of the pro-abortionists, who appear to have convinced a lot of people that they are nice, caring people campaigning for a respectable cause.  But they are not respectable: they weren’t back in the Eighties, and  they aren’t now. I well remember being told by the American pro-life campaigner Dr Bernard Nathanson, who had been personally responsible for 60,000 abortions before becoming convinced of the evil of what he was doing, that unless the Amendment were carried it would be only a few years before “you will have the same despicable abattoirs and charnel-houses in Ireland as we have in the States”.

Alec’s poem—which I regard as almost Swiftian in its savage indignation—is below. I think its time has now really come, and that it could push some wavering minds in the right direction. So I am asking everyone to forward it to as many friends and acquaintances as possible—to anyone with the wits to understand and the heart to be moved.  I want it to go viral.

 

THE WONDROUS VICTORY O’ER

THE EMBRYO

This Chansonette, to Be Sung or Recited in Schools,

Colleges and Places of Public Resort

When Erin Frees Herself from the Slavery

of Her Present Abortion Laws,

Is Dedicated Most Humbly to

OUR LEGISLATORS

Wake, Erin’s daughters, wake to greet this day!

Praise our astute TDs, the NUJ,

Our learned judges, all to whom you owe

This wondrous victr’y o’er the embryo.

Now condomless be coupled, Erin’s maids

(Unless you think your stud might give you Aids)

And should the flow’r and pollen haply meet

Fear not! An eager army’s here to treat

With suck and scrape and every form of woe

That enemy of joy, the foetus-foe.

Hun, Chinaman or Yank—it matters not,

Nor Britisher, nor loudly piping Scot.

With curettes raised they’ll throng through Erin’s doors

Praising with joy her changed ABORTION LAWS.

So to the clinic hie thy happy path,

To greet the noble surgeons with a laugh.

With Hippocratic oaths they’ll thrust about

Till enemy within becomes without!

Then, products of conception pluck’d away

You’ll sing a song of love the livelong day.

“Away to sluice, all embryos and zygotes!

Away all prattling priests and pro-life bigots!”

So, Erin’s maidens, greet this happy day.

Praise our astute TDs, the NUJ,

Our learned judges, all to whom you owe

This fabled vict’ry o’er the Foetus-Foe.

 

 

So: please cut, paste and forward this poem far and wide

 

Incidentally, Alec’s grandfather was Sir James O’Connor, the last Attorney-General for Ireland before Independence. I’m sure Sir James would have been appalled and horrified by what present-day Irish politicians are up to.

 

 

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