Here goes: THE GLENS OF SWEET MAYO

One sunny summer's morning as I rambled from my home
Down by the banks of a silver stream I carelessly did roam
I overheard a fair maid sigh as the tears from her eyes did flow
For the loss of her own true Irish love in the Glens of sweet Mayo.

My true-love was a rebel bold he loved sweet liberty
In bloody ninteen-sixteen he fought for Ireland free
It was in the Black and Tan reign he never feared the foe
It was State guns that shot my love in the Glens of sweet Mayo.

Had I but his rifle now I'd fight for liberty
Upon the spot where he was shot I'd fight the enemy
Until a bullet should pierce my heart and cause my blood to flow
I'd die beside my own true-love in the Glens of sweet Mayo.

Had I but the riches bright old England proudly owns
Oh! had I all the glittering gold a king holds on his throne
Or had I all those stately ships, that are anchored there below
I would rather have my soldier boy in the Glens of Sweet Mayo.

Forget about your soldier boy and come away with me
We'll both go off together and it's happy we will be
Where is the use of mourning now for one that's lying low
With worms a-creeping 'round his head in the Glens of Sweet Mayo

There is one request I'd ask of you, and grant it to me please
It is not much I'll ask of you, but will set my mind at ease
Take pity on a fair young maid who knows not where to go
And come with her to find her love in the Glens of sweet Mayo.

We started off together then her true-love for to find
For three long days and weary nights against the rain and wind
Until we came to that silent spot that all true lovers know
We found him dying on the grass in the Glens of sweet Mayo.

'Twas a cruel sight that pierced my heart as over him she stood
And when she gazed upon that face all covered with his heart's blood
When she saw those cruel wounds from which the blood did flow
Ah! it made the heather around look red in the Glens of sweet Mayo

She then commenced to dig his grave and lay him down to rest
Then she planted an evergreen to flourish at his breast
She then bent down to kiss his lips which were as white as snow
Saying "Goodbye, farewell my own true-love in the Glens of sweet Mayo."

             Quite Gothic really!! Cheers Joy

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The version I posted comes from "Ballads from the Jails and Streets of Ireland" ed. Martin Shannon Pub. Red Hand Books, Dublin, 1966. No info. given except that the tune is "Felons of our Land".