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Ar an leathanach seo
- Song - Andrew Thomas.
Air - Billy Byrne.I
You faithful sons of Freedom. You may sigh & complain.
Since our brave Irish Bonaparte most fatally was slain
By accursed information this hero he was killed
On the plains nigh Fiach's Castle his precious blood was spilled.II
It being in cold December on the twenty-second day
In the year 1800 we may lament and say
Our hope of Victory 's blasted and [?] laurels tore
The pride of Old Ireland is slain, darling Thomas is no more.III
When Fortune first forsook Erin's darling son
And of her gifts he was bereft he knew it by his gun
Three times that day she deceived him, when oft she used to roar
As those cursed orange lilies in pieces he would have tore.(leanann ar an chéad leathanach eile)Tras-scríofa ag duine dár meitheal tras-scríbhneoirí deonacha.