Works

Why rings the knell of the funeral bell from a hundred village shrines?
Through broad Fingall, where hasten all those long and ordered lines?
With tear and sigh they're passing by--the matron and the maid--...

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The church of Dungannon is full to the door,
And sabre and spur clash at times on the floor,
While helmet and shako are ranged all along,
Yet no book of devotion is seen in the throng....

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Bright red is the sun on the waves of Lough Sheelin,
A cool, gentle breeze from the mountain is stealing,
While fair round its islets the small ripples play,...

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The Geraldines! The Geraldines! 'tis full a thousand years
Since, 'mid the Tuscan vineyards, bright flashed their
battle-spears;
When Capet seized the crown of France, their iron shields were known,...

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The Geraldines! the Geraldines!--'tis full a thousand years
Since, 'mid the Tuscan vineyards, bright flashed their battle-spears;
When Capet seized the crown of France, their iron shields were known,...

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'Tis pretty to see the girl of Dunbwy
Stepping the mountain statelily--
Though ragged her gown, and naked her feet,
No lady in Ireland to match her is meet.


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...

Air--Irish Molly O!


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Full often when our fathers saw the Red above the Green,
They rose in rude but fierce array, with sabre, pike and scian,...

Air--Gr'dh mo chroidhe.


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Sweet thoughts, bright dreams, my comfort be,
All comfort else has flown;
For every hope was false to me,
And here I am, alone....

Air--The Wheelwright.


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Oh! weep those days, the penal days,
When Ireland hopelessly complained.
Oh! weep those days, the penal days,
When godless persecution reigned;...

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Let the feeble-hearted pine,
Let the sickly spirit whine,
But work and win be thine,
While you've life.
God smiles upon the bold--
So, when your flag's unrolled,...

The summer sun is falling soft on Carbery's hundred isles,
The summer sun is gleaming still through Gabriel's rough defiles;
Old Innisherkin's crumbled fane looks like a moulting bird,...

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The summer sun is falling soft on Carbery's hundred isles--
The summer sun is gleaming still through Gabriel's rough defiles--
Old Inisherkin's crumbled fane looks like a moulting bird;...

From Milan to Cremona Duke Villeroy rode,
And soft are the beds in his princely abode;
In billet and barrack the garrison sleep,
And loose is the watch which the sentinels keep:...

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From Carrick streets to Shannon shore,
From Slievenamon to Ballindeary,
From Longford Pass to Gaillte M'r,
Come hear The Vow of Tipperary.


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Come in the evening, or come in the morning;
Come when you 're look'd for, or come without warning:
Kisses and welcome you 'll find here before you,
And the oftener you come here the more I 'll adore you!...

Air--The Brink of the White Rocks.


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When all beside a vigil keep,
The West's asleep, the West's asleep--
Alas! and well may Erin weep,
When Connaught lies in slumber deep....

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Let Britain boast her British hosts,
About them all right little care we;
Not British seas nor British coasts
Can match the Man of Tipperary!


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...

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In Bodenstown Churchyard there is a green grave,
And wildly along it the winter winds rave;
Small shelter, I ween, are the ruined walls there,
When the storm sweeps down on the plains of Kildare....

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We must not fail, we must not fail,
However fraud or force assail;
By honour, pride, and policy,
By Heaven itself!--we must be free.


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