| 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=== |