At Boolavogue as the sun was setting
O’er the bright May meadows of Shelmalier,
A rebel hand set the heather blazing
And brought the neighbours from far and near,
Then Father Murphy, from old Kilcormack,
Spurred up the rocks with a warning cry;
‘Arm! Arm!’ he cried, ‘for I’ve come to lead you,
for Ireland’s freedom we live or die.’
He led us on ‘gainst the coming soldiers,
And the cowardly Yeomen were put to flight;
‘Twas at Harrow the boys of Wexford
showed Bookey’s regiment how men could fight.
Look out for hirelings, King George of England,
Search every kingdom where breathes a slave,
For Father Murphy from County Wexford
Sweeps o’er the land like a mighty wave.
We took Camolin and Enniscorthy,
And Wexford storming drove out our foes;
‘Twas at Slieve Coillte our pikes were reeking
With the crimson stream of the beaten Yeos.
At Tubberneering and Ballyellis
Full many a Hessian lay in his gore;
Ah, Father Murphy, had aid come over
The green flag floated from shore to shore!
At Vinegar Hill, o’er the pleasant Slaney,
Our heroes vainly stood back to back,
And the Yeos at Tullow took Father Murphy
And burned his body upon the rack.
God grant you glory, brave Father Murphy
And open heaven to all your men;
The cause that called you ay call to-morrow
In another fight for the green again.