The Year of the French
(Pete St. John)
On an angry autumn morning, sailing down Killala bay
Came the Frenchmen and their general, too late to save the day
And my Nora waved them welcome, while I still nursed my wounds
Cruel marks from Tubberneering and all my dreams in ruins
cho: Ah, you Frenchman, ah, you Frenchman! You've come too late again
To save the flower of freedom that's crushed in every glen
And your fancy General Humbert, well intended tho' he be
Will never reap the harvest that was promised to the free
At Castlebar he chased them, like foxes 'fore the hounds
Lord Roden's vaunted cavalry they raced across the ground
Seven hundred fiery Frenchmen, Mayo rebels, two cannon-gun
But I thought of Father Murphy lying dead with Wexford's sons
Then early in September, I saw it all again
Cornwallis and his thousands drove Humbert down the glen
While the beaten French were sent to France, the rebels they were slain
With Tone and Teeling martyred, the banshee cried again
Copyright Pete St. John
TK
oct99
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!