American Old Time Song Lyrics: 28 Patrick Sheehan

Theater, Music-Hall, Nostalgic, Irish & Historic Old Songs, Volume 28

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My name is Patrick Sheehan, my years are thirty-four,
Tipperary is my native place, not far from Galtymore;
I came of honest parents-but now they're lying low-
And many a pleasant day I spent in the Glen of Aherlow.

My father died, I closed his eyes outside our cabin-door-
The landlord and the sheriff, too, were there the day before-
And then my loving mother, and sisters three also.
Were forced to go with broken hearts from the Glen of Aherlow.

For three long months, in search of work, I wandered far and near;
I went, then, to the poor-house, to see my mother dear;
The news I heard nigh broke my heart, out still, in all my woe,
I blessed the friends who made their graves In the Glen of Aherlow.

Bereft'of home and kith and kin-with plenty all around-
I starved within my cabin, and slept upon the ground;
But cruel as my lot was, I ne'er did hardship know
'Till I joined the English army, far away from Aherlow.

"Rouse up there," says the Corporal, "you lazy HIrish 'ound;
Why don't you bear, you sleepy dog, the call' to arms I' sound?"
Alas, I had been dreaming of days long, long ago,
I woke before Sebastopol, and not in Aherlow.

I groped to find my musket-how dark I thought the night;
On, blessed God, It was not dark, it was the broad daylight;
And when I found that I was blind, my tears began to flow,
I longed for even a pauper's grave in the Glen of Aherlow.

Oh, blessed Virgin Mary, mine is a mournful tale-
A poor, blind prisoner here I am, in Dublin's dreary jail;
Struck blind within the trenches, where I never feared the foe;
And now I'll never see again my own sweet Aherlow.

A poor, neglected mendicant, I wandered through the street.
My nine mouths' pension now being out, I beg from all I meet-
As I joined my country's tyrants, my face I'll never show
Among the kind old neighbors in the Glen of Aherlow.

Then Irish youths-dear countrymen-take heed of what I say,
For if you join the English ranks you'll surely rue the day;
And whenever you are tempted a-soldiering to go,
Remember poor blind Sheehan of the Glen of Aherlow.
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