TURLOUGH OG O'BOYLE
Davey Hayes (?)

Wild are they hills, O Donegal, that frownin' darkly rise
As if to greet the mist that falls upon them from the skies
Dark, dark the hills and darker still thy mountain torrents flow
But none so dark as Maolmuire's heart in his castle hall at Doe [in Inis Eoghain/Inishowen]

Fair are thy plains, O Donegal, and calm thy winding streams,
That gently flow by hut and hall beneath the bright sunbeams,
But plain or stream or meadow green of flower upon the lea
Were not more mild than Maolmuire's child, so sweet and fair was she.

Stout grow thy oak, O Donegal, and straight thy ashen tree,
And swift and straight thy sons so tall her country's pride to see,
But oak or ash or young men all that spring from Irish soil,
Were not more stout, swift, straight and strong than the chief of Clan O'Boyle.

He was the pride of Faugher side from the hills of Ballymore.
For feats of strength none equalled him from Fanad to Gaoth Dobhair/Gweedore,
And he would go through frost and snow on a merry Christmas Day,
With ringing cheer to hunt the deer from his haunts in dark Glenveagh/Gleann Bheithe.

In his little boat O'Boyle would float, a fishin' he would go,
With hook and line to Lackagh stream that runs by castle Doe.
High in the castle tower his loved one lay confined,
And on its lofty battlements in sorrow deep she pined.

At the castle strand two boats lay manned to wait the rising tide.
Maolmhuire there is chief command right cowardly did hide.
And when O'Boyle his homeward course steered by the Bishop's Isle
They were waylaid and a prisoner made of fearless young O'Boyle.

They brought him to the castle in strong irons he was bound,
And by Maolmhuire was confined to a dungeon underground,
But in a few days after inside the graveyard wall,
Four stalwart ruffians bore a bier wrapped in a funeral pall.

Poor Aileen in her tower above beheld the mournful scene.
In mute amaze she cast a gaze upon the graveyard green,
All pale and death beside a mound of freshly risen soil,
The pall removed, she there beheld the features of O'Boyle.

Then with a shriek she madly leapt from the tower to the ground,
Whereby her faithful waiting maid her corpse in cold was found,
And in Doe Castle graveyard green beneath the mouldering soil,
Maolmuire's daughter sleeps in death with Turlough Óg O'Boyle.

Recorded by Tríona Ní Dhomhnaill, who learned it from her father. He found the words printed in an issue of the Derry Journal, but recalled having heard the song some years earlier. From the sleeve notes of Tríona's album (I think this is Cathal Goan's contribution): "It is believed to be from the pen of one Davey Hayes, a traveller, who sold his songs at Donegal fairs during the early part of this [20th] century. The ballad relates to the feuds of the Ó Baoill and MacSuibhne clans of North Donegal. Turlough Óg O'Boyle, son of Feilimidh Cam, falls prey to his love one Eibhlín's father (Maolmhuire an bhata Bhuí). The precise motive for his murder is never clear in the ballad, but it is sufficient to send the grief-stricken Eibhlín hurtling to her death. The author... shows a keen sense of drama (perhaps a little too keen!) and produces an original and very stirring ballad."