Name: James (Big Jim) Larkin (1874 - 1947)
Nickname: unknown
Where: O'Connell Street
Coordinates: 53.349;-6.2599Latitude: 53°20′56.4″N
Longitude: 6°15′35.64″W
Inauguration date: unknwon
Sculptor: unknown
Story: Ingraving says "And tyranny trampled them in Dublin's cutter until Jim Larkin came along and cried the call of freedom and the call of pride and slavery crept to its hands and knees and nineteen thirteen cheered from out the utter degradation of their miseries." ^[1] This text is signed Patrick Kavanagh. Sean O'Casey wrote: "...He talked to the workers, spoke as only Jim Larkin could speak, not for an assignation with peace, dark obedience, or placid resignation; but trumpet-tongued of resistance to wrong, discontent with leering poverty, and defiance of any power strutting out to stand in the way of their march onward."

Lyrics of James Larkin by The Dubliners

In Dublin City in 1913 the boss was rich and the poor were slaves
The women working and children starving, then on came Larkin like a mighty wave
The workers cringed when the boss man thundered, seventy hours was his weekly chore
He asked for little and less was granted, lest gettin' little, then he'd ask for more

In the month of August the boss man told us, no union man for him could work
We stood by Larkin and told the boss man, we'd fight or die, but we would not shirk
Eight months we fought and eight months we starved; we stood by Larkin through thick and thin
But food less homes and the crying of children, they broke our hearts, we just could not win

When Larkin left us we seemed defeated. The night was black for the working man,
But on came Connolly with new hope and counsel. His motto was that we'd rise again
In 1916 in Dublin city, the English soldiers they burnt our town
They shelled our buildings, and shot our leaders; the harp was buried beneath the bloody crown

They shot McDermott and Pearse and Plunkett; they shot McDonagh and Clarke the brave.
From bleak Kilmainham they took their bodies to Arbour Hill and a quicklime grave
But last of all of the seven heroes I sing the praise of James Connolly
The voice of justice, the voice of freedom, he gave his life that men might be free

Notes

1. ↑ Patrick Kavanagh