By Patrick Tunney
Now, when I muse ‘mid Mayo’s braes,
My heart with grief is sore,
As I recall youth’s happy days,
And friends I’ll ne’er see more.
When I think of trusted friends I knew,
Who’re sleeping in cold clay,
I grieve for my loved Róisín Dhu,
Held fast by alien sway.
My nation wept ‘neath galling throes,
Some fifteen years ago,
When gallant heroes proudly rose,
To oust the foreign foe.
They nobly fought for liberty,
In glorious ‘sixteen,
The Irishmen might freemen be,
‘Neath the orange, white and green.
Then, dauntless for my Róisín Dhu,
Beneath the flag of Tone,
There stood an Irish colleen, true,
Brave-hearted Peg Malone.
With trust and faith she saw the light,
Of freedom’s dawning day,
And, with inspiration beaming bright,
In death she passed away.
By God’s decree she calmly sleeps,
Where shamrocks freshly bloom,
In Aughavale, where clans will weep,
Around her silent tomb.
May her soul find rest where love ne’er ends,
In a home beyond the sky,
The memory of true hearted friends,
Will never, never die.