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The Croppie Boy (3) It was early, early in the spiing When small birds tune and thrushes sing Changing their notes from tree to tree, And the song they sang was old Ireland free. It was early, early last Tuesday night, The Yeomen cavalry gave me a fright, To my misfortune and sad downfall I was taken prisoner by Lord Cornwall. It was to the guard-house I then was led, And in his parlour I was tried My sentence passed and my courage low To new Geneva I was forced to go. As I was going by my father's door My brother William stood on the floor My aged father stood at the door And my tender mother her hair she tore. As I was going through Wexford Street My own first cousin I there did meet, My own first cousin did me betray And for one guinea swore my life away As I was going up Croppy Hill Who could blame me if I cried my fill? I looked behind and I looked before, My tender mother I could see no more. My sister Mary heard the express, She ran downstairs in her morning dress, One hundred guineas she would lay down To see me liberated in Wexford town. I chose the black and I chose the blue, I forsook the pink and the orange too, But I did forsake them and did them deny And I'll wear the green, like a Croppy Boy. Farewell, father, and mother too, And, sister Mary, I have but you; As for my brother, he's all alone, He's pointing pikes on the grinding stone. It was in Geneva this young man died, And in Geneva his body lies. All good Christians that are standing by Pray the Lord have mercy on the Croppy Boy. Air: The Robber From The Voice of the People, Mulcahy and Fitzgibbon DT #397 Laws J14 RG
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