I just came across a fascinating site detailing what appears to be the original version of Rocks of Bawn and a later revision. A rather different story then the one with which most of us are familiar . . .

THE ROCKS O' BAWN
written by Mr. Patrick Kelly, 1879-1940, of Cashel-in-Connemara, Ireland

"Oh, rise up, gallant Sweeney--"
The woman's voice was sweet;
The piper took his pipes and stick
And follow'd thro' the street.
As he was first so he was last
From clear daylight till dawn--
He said: "We won't be able
To plough the Rocks o' Bawn."

All weary walk'd young Sweeney:
The woman went before.
At high-noon sun he stopp'd to play
Before her father's door.
Her father came the youth to curse
And drive him from his lawn.
She said: "I go with Sweeney
To plough the Rocks o' Bawn."

"Now rest you, loyal comrade,
Beside this clear spring well;
And look you there and what you see
To me I bid you tell."
Young Sweeney look'd thro' Life and Death
And saw a golden dawn--
He said: "I know we're able
To plough the Rocks o' Bawn."

"Why sit you, Piper Sweeney,
So idle thro' the day,
And where is she you follow'd far
As cuckoo follows May?"
Young Sweeney said: "She weeps alone
Beside her father's lawn,
And so I sit me idle
All on the Rocks o' Bawn."

"Oh, rouse you, handsome Sweeney
And rouse the woman too;
Why sigh you here, why weeps she there
While work is still to do?"
But Sweeney said: "Tho' we may toil
From clear daylight till dawn,
I fear we won't be able
To plough the Rocks o' Bawn."

"Where go you now, Boy Sweeney,
Or roving in the May?"
"I go to her I'd follow still
Thro' dark and stormy day.
I look'd into the well she knew,
A Queen she walk'd her lawn--
And so I know we're able
To plough the Rocks o' Bawn."

Printed for the author, in Dublin 1922
Dollard Printinghouse, Dublin Limited



THE ROCKS OF BAWN (revised)
written by Mr. Patrick Kelly, 1879-1940, of Cashel-in-Connemara, Ireland

Published 1941, in "THE SALLEY RING"
Published 1977, in "POEMS FROM CONNEMARA"

"Oh, rise up, Piper Sweeney--"
The woman's voice was sweet;
The piper took his pipes and stick
And followed thro' the street.
As he was first so he was last
From clear daylight till dawn--
He said: "We won't be able
To plough the rocks of Bawn."

All weary walked young Sweeney,
The woman went before:
At high-noon sun he stopped to play
Beside her father's door.
Her father came in anger loud
And drove him from his lawn--
Said she: "I go with Sweeney
To plough the rocks of Bawn."

She stayed her steps when day was nigh,
She loosed her golden hair--
"I bid you look in yonder well
And say what dream is there."
Young Sweeney looked and he was pale:
He saw a splendid dawn--
"Oh, lady, are we able
To plough the rocks of Bawn?"

She bound her hair, she took his hand--
"Now turn you home," said she,
"And rest and wait - 'tis my command--
For Ireland will be free."
She kissed his hand, she drew her cloak
Against the chilling dawn--
"I'll meet you, boy, and by and by,
All on the rocks of Bawn."

"What seek you, Piper Sweeney?
King William rides this way."
"I seek a woman fair and young
That I to her may play.
I looked at noon into a well,
A Queen she walked her lawn:
And I shall meet her by and by,
All on the rocks of Bawn

Printed by Ennistymon Printing Works