The O'Connell Set
This is
a parade set of four common time tunes. T
The Green Flag
words to the song
to be added here
The Mountains of Pomeroy
The morn was breaking bright and fair,
The lark sang in the sky,
When the maid she bound her golden hair,
With a blithe glance in her eye;
For, who beyond the gay green-wood,
Was a-waiting her with joy?
Oh, who but her gallant Renardine,
On the mountains of Pomeroy.
Chorus:
An outlawed man
In a land forlorn,
He scorned to turn and fly,
But kept the cause
Of freedom safe
Up on the mountains high.
Full often in the dawning hour,
Full oft in twilight brown
He met the maid in the woodland bow'r,
Where the stream comes foaming down.
For they were faithful in a love
No wars could e'er destroy;
No tyrant's law touched Renardine,
On the mountains of Pomeroy.
Chorus:
"Dear love," she said, "I'm sore afraid,
For the foeman's fierce and you
They've tracked you in the lowland plain
And all the valley through.
My kinsmen frown when you are named;
Your life they would destroy.
'Beware,' they say, 'of Renardine,'
On the mountains of Pomeroy."
Chorus.
"Fear not, fear not, sweetheart," he cried,
"Fear not the foe for me.
No chain shall fall, whate'er betide,
On the arm that would be free!
Oh, leave your cruel kin and come
When the lark is in the sky;
And it's with my gun I'll guard you,
On the mountains of Pomeroy."
Chorus:
The morn has come, she rose and fled
From her cruel kin and home;
And bright the wood, and rosy red,
And the tumbling torrent's foam.
But the mist came down and the tempest roared,
And did all around destroy;
And a pale, drowned bride met Renardine
On the mountains of Pomeroy.
Chorus:
Roddy McCorley
O see the fleet-foot
host of men, who march with faces drawn,
From farmstead and from fishers' cot, along the banks of Ban;
They come with vengeance in their eyes. Too late! Too late are
they,
For young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome
today.
Oh Ireland, Mother Ireland, you love them still the best
The fearless brave who fighting fall upon your hapless breast,
But never a one of all your dead more bravely fell in fray,
Than he who marches to his fate on the bridge of Toome today.
Up the narrow street he stepped, so smiling, proud and young.
About the hemp-rope on his neck, the golden ringlets clung;
There's ne'er a tear in his blue eyes, fearless and brave are
they,
As young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome
today.
When last this narrow street he trod, his shining pike in hand
Behind him marched, in grim array, a earnest stalwart band.
To Antrim town! To Antrim town, he led them to the fray,
But young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today.
The grey coat and its sash of green were brave and stainless then,
A banner flashed beneath the sun over the marching men;
The coat hath many a rent this noon, the sash is torn away,
And Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today.
Oh, how his pike flashed in the sun! Then found a foeman's heart,
Through furious fight, and heavy odds he bore a true man's part
And many a red-coat bit the dust before his keen pike-play,
But Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today.
There's never a one of all your dead more bravely died in fray
Than he who marches to his fate in Toomebridge town today;
True to the last! True to the last, he treads the upwards way,
And young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today.