The Fair at Turloughmore
Come tell me, dearest mother, what makes my father stay
Or what can be the reason that he's been so Iong away?
Oh hold your tongue, my darling son, your tears do grieve me sore,
I fear he has been murdered at the fair of Turloughmore.
Come all you tender Christians I hope you will draw near
It's of this dreadful murder I mean to let you hear:
Concerning those poor people whose loss we do deplore
(The Lord havc mercy on their souls) they died at Turloughmore.
'Twas on tbe first of August the truth I will declare
Those people tbey assembled that day all at the fair;
But little was their notion what evil was in store
All by the bloody Peelers at the fair of Turloughmore.
Were you to see that dreadful sight 'twould grieve your heart I know
To see those lovely women and the men all lying low;
God help their tender parents, they will never see them more,
For cruel was tbeir murder at the fair of Turloughmore.
It's for that base bloodthirsty crew remark the word I say
The Lord he will reward them against the Judgement Day,
The blood they've taken innocent for it they'll suffer sore,
And the treatment that they gave to us that day at Turloughmore.
The mnoming of their trial as they stood in the dock,
The words they spoke were feeling, the people round them flock,
"l tell you Judge and Jury, the truth I will declare
It was Brew that ordered us to fire, that evening at the fair."
Now to conclude and finish this sad and doleful lay
I hope their souls are happy against the Judgment Day,
It was little time they got, we know, when they fell like new-mown hay,
My the Lord have mercy on their souls against the Judgment Day.
from Irish Songs of Resistance, Galvin