| Proudly the note of the trumpet is sounding
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| Loudly the war cries arise on the gale
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| Fleetly the steed by Lough Swilly is bounding
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| To join the thick squadrons on Saimer’s green vale
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| On, every mountaineer, strangers to flight of fear
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| Rush to the standard of dauntless Red Hugh
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| Bonnaught and Gallowglass, throng from each mountain pass
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| Onward for Erin, O’Donnell Abú!
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| Princely O’Neill to our aid is advancing
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| With many a chieftain and warrior clan
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| A thousand proud steeds in his vanguard are prancing
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| 'Neath the borders brave from the banks of the Bann
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| Many a heart shall quail under its coat of mail
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| Deeply the merciless foeman shall rue
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| When on his ear shall ring, borne on the breeze’s wing
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| Tyrconnell’s dread war-cry: «O'Donnell Abú!»
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| Wily old Desmond the war wolf is howling
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| Fearless the eagle sweeps over the plain
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| The fox in the streets of the city is prowling
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| And all who would scare them are banished or slain
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| On with O’Donnell then, fight the old fight again
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| Sons of Tyrconnell, are valiant and true
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| Make the proud Saxon feel Erin’s avenging steel
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| Strike for your country, O’Donnell Abú! |