| Ah then tell me Sean O’Farrell
|
| Tell me why you hurry so
|
| Hush my boy now hush and listen
|
| And his eyes were all aglow
|
| I bear orders from the captain
|
| Get ye ready quick and soon
|
| For the pikes must be together
|
| At the rising of the moon
|
| Ah then tell me Sean O’Farrell
|
| Where the gath’rin is to be
|
| In the old spot by the river
|
| Right well known to you and me
|
| One word more, a signal token
|
| Whistle of the marchin' tune
|
| With your pike upon your shoulder
|
| At the rising of the moon
|
| There beside that singing river
|
| That dark mass of men was seen
|
| Far above their shining weapons
|
| Hung their own immortal green
|
| Death to every foe and traitor!
|
| Forward strike the marchin' tune
|
| And hurrah, my boys, for freedom!
|
| 'Tis the rising of the moon
|
| How well they fought for poor old Ireland
|
| And full bitter, was their fate
|
| Oh what glorious pride and sorrow
|
| Fills the name of '98
|
| Yet thank God while hearts are beating
|
| Each man bears a burning wound
|
| We will follow in their footsteps
|
| At the rising of the moon |