Well, here's the song text:

SONG OF THE WEXFORD INSURGENT
Translated from the Irish

THE heroes of Wexford have burst through their chains,
And the voice of the freeman is loud o'er her plains,
The Sassenachs are broken, their horsemen have fled,
And the pride of their host on the mountain are dead.

For roused is the blood of the hold Shilmalier, -
The pride of the conflict when foemen are near, -
And the heroes of Bargy and Bantry are there,
In the shock ever foremost in flight in the rear.

Oh soon will the hearths of the traitors be lone,
And their halls but re-echo the shriek and the groan
And the red flame shall burst thro' their roofs to the sky
For the hour of freedom and vengeance is nigh.

The men of the mountains are down in the vale,
And the flags of Shelburne are loose to the gale, -
And though gentle the Forth yet her sons never slight,
For the mildest in peace are oft boldest in fight.V
The cold-blooded Sassenach is low on the hill,
Like the red rock he presses, as lone, and as chill;
There pulseless and cold, the pale beams of the moon
Show the deep-riven breast of the fallen dragoon:

And low lies his charger, his bosom all torn,
And from the dark helmet the horse hair is shorn,
And the hearts of the great, and the brave, and the proud,
Have been trampled in death when the battle was loud.

Oh! long in fair England each maiden may mourn,
The pride of her bosom shall never return,
His heart's blood is scattered, his last prayer is said,
And the dark raven flaps his wild wing o'er his head.

Yes, long she may call him from battle in vain,
The sight of her lover she ne'er shall regain, -
All cold is his bosom, and crimson his brow,
And the night wind is sighing its dirge o'er him now!

HIBERNICUS

Source: The Catholic miscellany and monthly repository of information, Volume 7 (1828), page 46.