THE CROPPY BOY.
It was early in the spring,
The small birds whistled, sweet did sing,
Changing their notes from tree to tree;
The song they sung was: Old Ireland free.
It was early last Thursday night,
The yeoman cavalry gave me a fright,
The yeoman cavalry was my downfall,
When I was taken to Lord Cornwall.
It was in his guard-house where I was laid,
And in his parlor where I was tried;
My sentence passed and my spirits low.
When to New Guinea I was forced to go.
When I was marching through the street.
The drums and fifes did play so sweet,
The drums and fifes did so sweetly play.
As we were marching so far away.
When I was marching past my father's door.
My brother William stood on the floor;
My aged father did grieve full sore.
And my tender mother her hair she tore.
When my sister Mary heard the express,
She ran down-stairs, in her morning dress.
Saying: Five hundred guineas I would lay down
To see you march through Wexford town.
As I was marching through Wexford Street,
My sister Mary I chanced to meet;
That false young woman did me betray,
And for one guinea she swore my life away.
And when I am dead, and taken to my grave,
A decent funeral, pray, let me have,
And over my head plant a laurel tree,
In sweet remembrance, remembrance of me.
When I was marching o'er Wexford hill,
Oh! who could blame me to cry my fill?"
I looked behind me, I looked before,
But my tender mother I ne'er saw more.
I chose the dark, I chose the blue,
I chose the pink and the orange, too;
I forsook all those, and did them deny,
I wore the green, and for it I'd die.
When I was mounted on the gallows high,
My aged father was standing by,
My aged father did me deny,
And the name he gave me was: The Croppy Boy.
It was in old Ireland this young man died,
And in old Ireland his body's laid;
All the good people that do puss by.
Say: The Lord have mercy on the Croppy Boy.