School: An Mhainistir, Móin Rátha (roll number 14243)

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1. The Irish Reaper's Harvest Hymn (continued)

   

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   But blessed be Mary!
   My sweet holy Mary!
   The "bodagh" he never dare call me a knave.

   From my mother's mud sheeling an outcast I fly,
   With a cloud on my heart, a a tear in my eye,
   Oh! I burn as I think that some one would say,
   "Revenge on your tyrants! -" but Mary, I pray,
   From my souls depth O Mary!
   And hear me sweet Mary!
   For Union and peace to old Ireland I pray.

   The land that I fly is fertile and fair,
   And more that I ask or I wish for is there,
   But I must not taste the good things that I see
   "There's nothing but rags, and green rushes for me"
   O milk Virgin Mary
   O sweet Mother Mary

   (continues on next page)

   

   Transcribed by a member of our volunteer transcription project.

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