I've always been very fond of Kilkenny by the Noire, which seems to fit the bill eminently and which can be heard on the Sarah and Rita Keane CD At the Setting of the Sun. Demon. FIEND CD 771. If you can't get hold of a copy it is set to the same tune as Tipperary so Far Away


1.        Mother agra, I am leaving you now, to the wars I am bound to go.
To fight for the cause of my country, where the pretty green shamrocks grow.
Tis sorry I am to be leaving you now, but you know I'll return once more.
When the fighting is done and the battle won, to Kilkenny by the Noire.

2.        These words he spoke, just at evening, to his mother fond and true.
The tears fell fast as he took her hand to bid her a last adieu.
Then stepping quickly he turned aside and marched through the open door.
He heaved a sigh and bid good-bye to Kilkenny by the Noire.

3.        The years rolled by as one by one fell the soldiers brave and true.
Not a letter at all did his mother receive from the lines where the bullets flew.
Yet ever she prayed for the one who had strayed, she prayed he'd return once more,
when the fighting was done and the battle won to Kilkenny by the Noire.

4.        The pale moon shone down on the battlefield where the battle was fought and won.
The wild birds flew over the wounded who'd ne'er see the rising sun.
And there in the quiet of that moonlit night a dying young soldier lay.
His comrades stood round as he lay on the ground and these words he did say.

5.        Tell my dear mother how bravely I fought and died as a soldier may.
With her picture held close to my bleeding breast as my life's blood was ebbing away.
Tell her tis home, never more shall I roam, I will ne'er see her face ever more.
Or the home that I left where in childhood Iplayed, in Kilkenny by the Noire.

6.        Slowly and sadly they laid him to rest in the spot where he fought and fell
No stone or mark did they place o'er his grave, his deeds and his valour to tell And there quite forgotten he sleeps his last sleep, 'neath the shamrock he fought for of yore.
Except by the one who is praying there still in Kilkenny by the Noire.