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THE YEAR OF THE FRENCH (Pete St. John) On an angry autumn morning, sailing down Killala bay Came the Frenchmen and their general, too late to save the day And my Nora waved them welcome, while I still nursed my wounds Cruel marks from Tubberneering and all my dreams in ruins cho: Ah, you Frenchman, ah, you Frenchman! You've come too late again To save the flower of freedom that's crushed in every glen And your fancy General Humbert, well intended tho' he be Will never reap the harvest that was promised to the free At Castlebar he chased them, like foxes 'fore the hounds Lord Roden's vaunted cavalry they raced across the ground Seven hundred fiery Frenchmen, Mayo rebels, two cannon-gun But I thought of Father Murphy lying dead with Wexford's sons Then early in September, I saw it all again Cornwallis and his thousands drove Humbert down the glen While the beaten French were sent to France, the rebels they were slain With Tone and Teeling martyred, the banshee cried again Copyright Pete St. John @Irish @rebel filename[ YRFRENCH TK oct99 |
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