Carrig Rua You may sing your fine songs and stories tell Of places and scenes that you all know well But I tell you now of this hill I do know It's called Carrig Rua where the wild flowers grow. It is often I have walked it and looked all 'round At places where history is still to be found. I look towards the west and I see Ferns' town Where the old church and abbey in ruins fall down. I look in amazement at MacMurrough's domain With his castle still standing where his blood once did stain As I look down on the Harrow where brave men did abide It was there that the yeomen in '98 died. From sweet Carrigrua I see Vinegar Hill And places where our heroes their blood once did spill While trying to free Ireland from the grasp of the foes They were sadly outnumbered and lost to the yeos. I can see Boolavogue and the bold Shelmalier Where Father John Murphy with his life once paid dear, Where Oliver Cromwell his forces did band For they murdered and plundered and ravished our land. And now as I sit here on this hill for to rest I can hear the small birds sing in the trees as they nest. Such a peace and contentment is now to be found, May those men who achieved it in heaven be crowned. WH oct99
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!