After Aughrim's great disaster,
When our foe in sooth was master,
In was you that first plunged in and swam
The Shannon's boiling flood.
And through Slieve Bloom's dark passes
You led your gallowglasses,
Although the hungry Saxon wolves
Were howling for our blood.
And as we crossed Tipperary,
We rieved the clan O'Leary
And drove a creaght before us,
As our horsemen southward came.
With our spears and swords we gored them,
As through flood and flight we bore them,
Still Seaghan O'Duibhir an Gleanna
We're worsted in the game
Long, long we kept the hill-side,
Our couch hard by the rill-side,
The sturdy knotted oaken boughs
Our curtain overhead.
The summer blaze we laughed at,
The winter snow we scoffed at;
And trusted to our long steel swords
To win us daily bread.
Till the Dutchman's troops came round us,
In fire and steel they bound us.
They blazed the woods and mountains
Till the very clouds were flame.
Yet our sharpened swords cut through them,
To their very heart we hewed them,
But Seaghan O'Duibhir an Gleanna
We're worsted in the game.
Here's a health to your and my King
The sovereign of our liking
And to Sarsfield, underneath whose flag
We'll cast once more a chance.
For the morning's dawn will wing us
Across the seas and bring us
To take our stand and wield a brand
Among the sons of France.
And though we part in sorrow
Still Seaghan O'Duibhir, a chara,
Our prayer is 'God save Ireland
And pour blessings on her name.'
May her sons be true when needed,
May they never fail as we did,
For Seaghan O'Duibhir an Gleanna
We're worsted in the game.


This page is a part of Philipp's Home Of The Free.