Scoil: Cornamon (uimhir rolla 13926)

Ar an leathanach seo

1. The Cry

   

   Roinn Roinn Postáil

   There's a wail from the glen, there's a groan from the hill-
   'Tis the cry of the land gainst the fiend of the Still!
   'Tis the caoine of Erin- the caoine so dread
   That swells for the living, and not for the dead-
   The living, the smitten, the blasted, the seared-
   The souls by the slime of the drink-snake besmeared-
   From the home on the upland, the hut in the dale,
   From hamlet and city is bursting the wail.
   'Tis the sob of the wife, 'tis the moan of the child;
   'Tis the groom of a nation by bloodshed defiled;
   From the heart of the orphan it pierces the air;
   It bursts from the widow's white lips in despair;
   It moans from the roofless untenanted walls
   And, gurgling and choked from the gallows it falls;
   It sobs o'er the grave where the drinker is laid;
   It shrieks from the soul of the maiden betrayed;
   It bursts from the poorhouse, the madhouse, the jail
   This woeful, despairing, wide, wild Irish wail!
   Up, children of Erin! respond to the cry!
   For man's sake - for Gods sake - up! act in reply!
   For the sake of the soul-smitten slave of the cup-
   For the sake of his victims-up! countrymen, up!
   By the hell in his heart, and the hell that he fears-
   By his wife and his children, their torture and tears-

   (leanann ar an chéad leathanach eile)

   

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