At Boulavogue as the sun was setting On
the bright May meadows of Shelmaliar, A rebel hand set the heather blazing And brought the neighbours from far and near. Then
Father Murphy from old Kilcormack Spurred up the rocks with a warning cry; "Arm, arm," he cried, "for I've come to lead
you; For Ireland's freedom we'll fight or die."
He led us on 'gainst the coming soldiers; The cowardly yeomen
we put to flight. 'Twas at the Harra the boys of Wexford Showed Bookies' regiment how men could fight. Look out for
hirelings, King George of England, Search ev'ry kingdom that breathes a slave, For Father Murphy from the county Wexford Sweeps
o'er the land like a mightly wave.
At Vinegar Hill o'er the pleasant Slaney Our heroes vainly stood back to back, And
the Yoes at Tullow took Father Murphy And burned his body upon the rack. God grant you glory, brave Father Murphy, And
open heaven to all your men; For the cause that called you may call tomorrow In another fight for the green again.
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