I found this poem in Duffy's Hibernian Magazine Vol. 3, No. 14 (Dublin: James Duffy, August, 1861), page 72.

It is also in Poems by John Francis O'Donnell (London: Ward & Downey, 1891), page 152

It is part of a longer poem called "A Canadian Festival" attributed to "Caviare" in the magazine. Since the same poem lacks an attribution in the O'Donnell book, I assume O'Donnell is the author.


THE MOUNTAINS.

My spurs are rusted, my coat is rent,
    My plume is dank with rain;
And the thistle down and the barley beard
    Are thick on my horse's mane;
But my rifle's as bright as my sweetheart's eye,
    And my arm is strong and free—
What care have I for your king or laws?
    I'm an outlawed rapparee!
        Click, click your glasses, friends, with mine,
            And give your grasp to me;
        I'm England's foe, I'm Ireland's friend—
            Click, click, I'm a rapparee!

The mountain cavern is my home,
    High up in the crystal air;
My bed is the limestone, iron-ribbed,
    And the brown heath smelling fair.
Let George or William only send
    His troops to burn and shoot—
We'll meet them upon equal ground,
    And fight them foot to foot.
        Click, click your glasses, friends, with mine,
            The midnight's made for glee;
        Stout hearts beat fast for Ireland yet—
            Yes—I am a rapparee!

Hunted from out our father's homes,
    Pursued with steel and shot,
A bloody warfare we must wage,
    Or the gibbet be our lot
Hurrah! the war is welcome work,
    The hated outlaw knows;
He steps unto his country's love
    O'er the corpses of his foes.
        Click, click your glasses, friends with mine,
            In coming days I see
        Stern labours for our country's weal—
            Yes—I'm a rapparee.