THE CROPPIE BOY (3)
It was early, early in the spiing
When small birds tune and thrushes sing
Changing their notes from tree to tree,
And the song they sang was old Ireland free.
It was early, early last Tuesday night,
The Yeomen cavalry gave me a fright,
To my misfortune and sad downfall
I was taken prisoner by Lord Cornwall.
It was to the guard-house I then was led,
And in his parlour I was tried
My sentence passed and my courage low
To new Geneva I was forced to go.
As I was going by my father's door
My brother William stood on the floor
My aged father stood at the door
And my tender mother her hair she tore.
As I was going through Wexford Street
My own first cousin I there did meet,
My own first cousin did me betray
And for one guinea swore my life away
As I was going up Croppy Hill
Who could blame me if I cried my fill?
I looked behind and I looked before,
My tender mother I could see no more.
My sister Mary heard the express,
She ran downstairs in her morning dress,
One hundred guineas she would lay down
To see me liberated in Wexford town.
I chose the black and I chose the blue,
I forsook the pink and the orange too,
But I did forsake them and did them deny
And I'll wear the green, like a Croppy Boy.
Farewell, father, and mother too,
And, sister Mary, I have but you;
As for my brother, he's all alone,
He's pointing pikes on the grinding stone.
It was in Geneva this young man died,
And in Geneva his body lies.
All good Christians that are standing by
Pray the Lord have mercy on the Croppy Boy.
Air: The Robber
From The Voice of the People, Mulcahy and Fitzgibbon
TUNE FILE: CROPPIE3
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