TRUE FRIENDS AND RELATIONS
True friends and relations of high and low stations
My little orations I'll give you quite clear;
About our good neighbors, who had some nice capers
Heaps of good nature and friendship that's near.
Indeed, until lately we were banded completely
Stuck into ale-houses drinking strong beer.
But now we're preparing, for war we're declaring
I hear people say we'll have corpses this year.
Our ranks they are broken, as I have just spoken,
And everything looking like troublesome times.
Some sheep they were stolen and false oaths were sworn,
And hundreds of more things that were not too fine.
The trenches are opened, the powers are opposing.
The fences are closing, commencing the strife.
When these are approaching no chance of controlling,
The tide it is flowing - we'll have war to the knife!
One dark Monday morning old Forbus went crawling
Around to the borders, on duty, we hear.
Not very long after we found he was talking
To Patsy Dearmawn, and so it appeared.
Suspecting according, our sides we were guarding,
Well knowing that our party couldn't get clear.
My heart it is scalded to hear it recorded
That tinkers rewarded are living out here.
If I was the farmer they style The Informer
I'd go to headquarters and see myself clear.
Immediately after, on leaving the altar,
I'd stand on the walls of the church that is near.
In every form I'd quell the alarum,
And out of the storm my barque I would steer.
If you don't act according you'll soon be discarded
The tinker won't solder your kettle, I fear!
The times they are awful, the Irish unlawful -
A split in our party forever, I fear!
When I hear people calling, shouting and bawling,
I find it appalling, I tremble with fear
When I think of those farmers that should be in their gardens,
Weaned from their fathers, encumbered in years.
But I hope without fear that God will reward us,
To guide and to guard us throughout our career.
These terrible cases are spread through all nations,
And innocent faces are greatly surprised.
The rocks they are blazing, the people half-crazy,
And nobody dreaming of quenching the fires.
Through friends and relations of angry vexations
I hear them declaring 'twas all done for spite.
But I pity the creature that sold his good neighbour,
For any foul traitor that's watching us tight.
So now in conclusion I'll make an allusion
Through all the confusion that's here in Glenlee;
Which left me disputing and often computing
That forever in future we cannot agree.
This little amusement has no signs of improvement;
Our neighbours are wounded, I'm sorry to see;
Which left me abusing this mean rotten Super'
That sent our five troopers to the gaol ofTralee.
FRom Elizabeth Cronin's handwritten collection. No tune given, but
it sings well to Top o' Cork Road, or Larry O'Gaff or just about any
single jig.
@Irish @battle
filename[ TRUFRNDS
RG
mudcat.org
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