Lamentation of Hugh Reynolds

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My name it is Hugh Reynolds, I come from honest parents,
Near Cavan I was born, as plainly you may see;
By loving of a maid, one Catherine MacCabe,
My life has been betrayed; she’s a dear maid to me.

The country were bewailing my doleful situation,
But still I’d expectation this maid would set me free;
But, O! she was ungrateful, her parents proved deceitful,
And though I loved her faithful, she’s a dear maid to me.

Young men and tender maidens, throughout this Irish nation,
Who hear my lamentation, I hope you’ll pray for me;
The truth I will unfold, that my precious blood she sold,
In the grave I must lie cold; she’s a dear maid to me.

For now’ my glass it is run, and the hour it is come,
And I must die for love and the height of loyalty:
I thought it was no harm to embrace her in my arms,
Or take her from her parents; but she’s a dear maid to me.

Adieu, my loving father, and you, my tender mother,
Farewell, my dearest brother, who has suffered sore for me;
With irons I’m surrounded, in grief I lie confounded,
By perjury unbounded! she’s a dear maid to me.

Now, I can say no more; to the gallows I must go,
There to take the last farewell of my friends and counterie;
May the angels, shining bright, receive my soul this night,
And convey me into heaven to the blessed Trinity.

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