Legends of the wars in Ireland | ||
228
THE CHASE FROM THE HOSTEL.
[“‘Bad luck to ould bandy-legged Schomberg]
“‘Bad luck to ould bandy-legged Schomberg,King William and Mary also!
For 'tis they that did wather ould Ireland
With bloodshed an' murther an' woe.
Ould Schomberg ------’
229
“MOLL ROONE.
“There's a girl in Kilmurry,—my own loved one,—
The loveliest colleen that the sun shines on:
Her eyes are as bright as the May-tide moon,
And the devil a girl like my own Moll Roone!
The loveliest colleen that the sun shines on:
Her eyes are as bright as the May-tide moon,
And the devil a girl like my own Moll Roone!
I mounted my steed in the evening brown,
And away I spurred till the storm came down,
Away over mountains and moorlands dun,
Till I came to the cottage of my own Moll Roone.
And away I spurred till the storm came down,
Away over mountains and moorlands dun,
Till I came to the cottage of my own Moll Roone.
230
I sat me down by the bogwood fire,
And I said that her love was my heart's desire;
And she gave me her love,—oh! she granted my boon,
And my heart was glad for my own Moll Roone.
And I said that her love was my heart's desire;
And she gave me her love,—oh! she granted my boon,
And my heart was glad for my own Moll Roone.
Come! what is the use of a brave brown steed,
But to spur to the doing of a gallant deed?
And what is the use of a sword or gun,
But to fight for a girl like my own Moll Roone?
But to spur to the doing of a gallant deed?
And what is the use of a sword or gun,
But to fight for a girl like my own Moll Roone?
As I rode down the mountains one Saturday night,
The valley below was one blaze of light;
And I found out its meaning full sadly and soon,
'Twas the foe fired the cottage of my own Moll Roone.
The valley below was one blaze of light;
And I found out its meaning full sadly and soon,
'Twas the foe fired the cottage of my own Moll Roone.
I spurred thro' Blackwater, o'er brake and moor,
I spurred thro' the foe to her cottage door:
There my sword cleft the skull of a Dutch dragoon,
And I bore away in triumph my own Moll Roone.”
I spurred thro' the foe to her cottage door:
There my sword cleft the skull of a Dutch dragoon,
And I bore away in triumph my own Moll Roone.”
Legends of the wars in Ireland | ||