Scoil: Caroreigh (uimhir rolla 6700)

Suíomh:
An Cheathrú Riabhach, Co. Loch Garman
Múinteoir:
Séamas Ó Cellaigh
Brabhsáil
Bailiúchán na Scol, Imleabhar 0883, Leathanach 006

Tagairt chartlainne

Bailiúchán na Scol, Imleabhar 0883, Leathanach 006

Íomhá agus sonraí © Cnuasach Bhéaloideas Éireann, UCD.

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Ar fáil faoin gceadúnas Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0)

  1. XML Scoil: Caroreigh
  2. XML Leathanach 006
  3. XML “Ballyshannon Lane”

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Ar an leathanach seo

  1. In ninety-six as the moon she fixed
    Her beams o'er Scullabogue,
    The twinkling stars and the planet Mars
    Were shining o'er each grove,
    Where the Hessian brutes had bit the dust
    And Cromwell's crew were slain,
    Where the yeomen fled and left their dead,
    In Ballyshannon Lane

    I sat for a while upon the stile
    At the Church of old Courthoyle,
    One night in June when a silvery moon
    O'er the rebels' grave did sail.
    The scenes of '98 that I'll relate
    Passed through my youthful brain,
    And I prayed for the dead from Raheen that bled
    In Ballyshannon Lane.

    I passed Jim Moore and the old forge door
    Where old (?) forged the pike
    The night was kind, no rain or wind
    Blew over hill or dyke.
    At Furlong's gate I chance to wait,
    And I thought how this youth was slain
    The Hessian crew, this lad they slew
    In Ballyshannon Lane

    My mother too, God rest her soul,
    She showed me where he fell
    Across the lands, where Doyle's house stands
    He fought manfully and well.
    Beyond Kehoes he chased the foes
    And many a hessian had slain;
    Till six bayonets pressed through his rebel breast
    In Balyshannon Lane.

    In Keating's bawn ere the morning's dawn
    When the barn was all in flames,
    My three uncles fell, I grieve to tell,
    That's Martin, Tom and James.
    Whilst my Aunt Kate stood at the gate
    Herself and child were slain,
    And my teeth I clenched to be revenged
    In Ballyshannon Lane.

    This was the song my mother sang
    Into my youthful ears,
    And down her cheeks, for weeks and weeks,
    Rolled hot and scalding tears.
    My brother Mike forged me a pike
    To take to the hills again,
    And, if Ireland need, I am here to bleed
    In Ballyshannon Lane
    Tras-scríofa ag duine dár meitheal tras-scríbhneoirí deonacha.
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