|
I sat within the valley green sat there with my true love |
|
And my fond heart strove to choose between the old love and the new love |
|
The old for her the new that made me think on Ireland dearly |
|
While soft the wind blew down the glade and shook the golden barley |
|
Twas hard for mournful words to frame to break the ties that bound us |
|
Ah but harder still to bear the shame of foreign chains around us |
|
And so I said the mountain glen I'll seek at morning early |
|
And join the brave united men while soft winds shook the barley |
|
Twas sad I kissed away her tears her arms around me clinging |
|
When to my ears that fateful shot came out the wild wood ringing |
|
The bullet pierced my true love's breast in life's young spring so early |
|
And there upon my breast she died while soft winds shook the barley |
|
I bore her to some mountain stream and many's the summer blossom |
|
I placed with branches soft and green about her gore-stained bosom |
|
I wept and kissed her clay-cold corpse then rushed o'er vale and valley |
|
My vengeance on the foe to wreak while soft winds shook the barley |
|
And it's blood for blood without remorse I've took in Oulart Hollow* |
|
While to her grave my love's cold corpse where I full soon may follow |
|
Around her grave I wander drear noon night and morning early |
|
With breaking heart whene'er I hear the wind that shakes the barley |
