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BOULAVOGUE |
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(P.J.McCall) |
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At Boulavogue, as the sun was setting |
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O'er bright May meadows of Shelmalier, |
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A rebel hand set the heather blazing |
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And brought the neighbors from far and near. |
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Then Father Murphy, from old Kilcormack, |
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Spurred up the rocks with a warning cry; |
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"Arm! Arm!" he cried, "for I've come to lead you, |
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For Ireland's freedom we fight or die." |
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He led us on 'gainst the coming soldiers, |
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The cowardly Yeomen we put to flight; |
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'Twas at the Harrow the boys of Wexford |
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Showed Bookey's regiment how men could fight. |
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Look out for hirelings, King George of England, |
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Search every kingdom where breathes a slave, |
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For Father Murphy of the County Wexford |
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Sweeps o'er the land like a mighty wave. |
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We took Camolin and Enniscorthy, |
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And Wexford storming drove out our foes; |
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'Twas at Slieve Coillte our pikes were reeking |
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With the crimson stream of the beaten yeos. |
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At Tubberneering and Ballyellis |
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Full many a Hessian lay in his gore; |
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Ah, Father Murphy, had aid come over, |
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The green flag floated from shore to shore! |
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At Vinegar Hill, o'er the pleasant Slaney, |
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Our heroes vainly stood back to back, |
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And the Yeos at Tullow took Father Murphy |
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And burned his body upon the rack. |
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God grant you glory, brave Father Murphy, |
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And open Heaven to all your men; |
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The cause that called you may call tomorrow |
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In another fight for the green again. |
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Recorded by Galvin, Clancys |
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filename( BOULVOGE |
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play.exe BOULVOGE |
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RG |
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY=== |
