Slowly and sadly one night in November,
I laid down my weary head, to repose
On a pillow of straw, which I long shall remember;
O'erpowered by sleep I fell into a doze.
Tired from working hard,
Down in a felon's yard;
Night brought relief to my well tortured frame,
Locked in my prison cell,
Surely an earthly hell;
I fell asleep and began for to dream.
Methought that I sat on the green hills of Erin,
Premeditating her victory won;
Surrounded by comrades no enemy fearing,
Stand was the cry, every man to his gun!
Then on came the Samagh facing our Irishmen,
But they soon rallied back from our Pike volunteers,
Whose cry it was slirill,
Hurrah, boys! Father Murphy,
And his brave Shellamires!
Then methought that I seen
Our brave noble commanders,
All mounted on chargers
And in gorgeous array,
In green, trimmed with gold,
With their bright shining sabres,
On which danced the sunbeams of freedom that day;
On, was the battle cry.
Conquer this day or die;
Sons of Hibernia. fight for liberty.
Show neither fear or dread,
Vanquish the foe ahead!
Cut down their horse, foot and artillery.
Then on the cannon balls flew,
Men from both sides drew;
Our men were bound by oath,
To die or hold their ground;
So from our vengeance the Samagh fled,
Leaving the fields covered with dead;
While each man cried out gloriously:
Come from your prison, Burke!
Irishmen have done their work,
God he was with us,
Old Erin is free!
Then methought, as the clouds
Were repeatedly flowing,
I saw a lion stretched on the crimson gold places,
Beneath the pale moonbeams in death's sleep reposing.
The comrades I knew I would never see again;
Then over the mountain path
Homewards I hastened back;
Where with lay mother, fainted, gave a loud scream,
At the shock of which I awoke,
Just as the day broke,
And found myelf a prisoner, and all but a dream.