_Street Ballad_
By Memory inspired,
And love of country fired,
The deeds of Men I love to dwell upon;
And the patriotic glow
Of my spirit must bestow
A tribute to O'Connell that is gone, boys, gone!
Here's a memory to the friends that are gone.
In October 'Ninety-seven--
May his soul find rest in Heaven--
William Orr to execution was led on:
The jury, drunk, agreed
That Irish was his creed;
For perjury and threats drove them on, boys, on:
Here's the memory of John Mitchell that is gone.
In 'Ninety-Eight--the month July--
The informer's pay was high;
When Reynolds gave the gallows brave MacCann;
But MacCann was Reynolds' first--
One could not allay his thirst;
So he brought up Bond and Byrne, that are gone, boys, gone.
Here's the memory of the friends that are gone!
We saw a nation's tears
Shed for John and Henry Shears;
Betrayed by Judas, Captain Armstrong;
We may forgive, but yet
We never can forget
The poisoning of Maguire that is gone, boys, gone--
Our high Star and true Apostle that is gone!
How did Lord Edward die?
Like a man, without a sigh;
But he left his handiwork on Major Swan!
But Sirr, with steel-clad breast,
And coward heart at best,
Left us cause to mourn Lord Edward that is gone, boys, gone:
Here's the memory of our friends that are gone!
September, Eighteen-three,
Closed this cruel history,
When Emmett's blood the scaffold flowed upon
O, had their spirits been wise,
They might then realize
Their freedom--but we drink to Mitchell that is gone, boys, gone:
Here's the memory of the friends that are gone!