Patrick O'Brien.

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friends in Gougane.
The gap of Dunlow, Giant's Causeway, Brighton, the

Seine or the wSuir.
Are not half so enchanting to gaze on as the scenes I saw

there on my tour.
I saw many sights in my travels through Germany,

France and old Spain,
When the Saxons were routed by Sarsfield, when he had

to cross over the main.
The boys and girls were boating, while the old folk in

monastery prayed.
And their echoes resounded the valley when they cheered

for Paul Kruger's Brigade.



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 95

O'Sullivan sang in the Gaelic, the dark clouds passed

quickly away,
At Cronin's Hotel for the ladies he sang "The First

Dawn of the Day."
He sang ''God Save Old Ireland" in Irish and English

also
To the matrons and maids of our party who to Gougane

that Sunday did go.

Such scenes as these loom up again, though on a distant

shore.
Where the Lee is fed from out the rocks by purling

streams galore.
The island church and ancient walls of Finbar's

Monastery,
Cronin's house where all did dine that came from Bantry.

When we drove through the main street of Bantry Bay,
With a gunboat in sight on that bright August day,
1 thought then and there of immortal Wolfe Tone,
As I gazed on my birthplace my heart grew like stone
To think that the tyrant controlled my own land.
With her armed marines and recruits sword in hand.
Her peelers and sailors, the slaves of the crown ;
A disgrace to famed Bantry, my dear native town.



96 BIRTH AND ADOPTION.

TO MY ESTEEMED FRIENDS OF BANTRY

BAY.

Home of my youth, of Thee I think no matter where I

roam,
ril ne'er forget the friends I left in my once happy home ;
My thoughts are now of you, asthore, your hills and

vales remind me
Of the days I spent in merriment with the friends I left

behind me.

There's Patsy Stack and Charley Mack, Costigan and

Canty ;
O' Sullivan, too, sincere and true, Levis and McCarthy.
Miss Kate I ween, the village queen, her sweet face oft

reminds me
Of Bantry fair, also the square, and the friends I left

behind me.

Although I'm in a foreign land, you're ever dear to me,
Old Ireland I will ne'er forget in the land of liberty.
There's not a day, there's not a night, but memories

remind me.
Of the happy days I lately spent in that land I left behind

me.

You'll find fair maids and gallant blades in dear old

Bantry Bay,
Each evening in the twilight you'll meet them down

the quay;



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 97

Their rosy cheeks and winning ways in a distant clime

inspire me
To write this poem far, far from home for the friends I

left behind me.

In Whiddy Isle, my native soil, I sailed around your

coast.
In Bantry Bay one summer's day, that I can proudly

boast.
Those bright blue eyes, 'neath azure skies, of a fair-haired

girl remind me,
As we sailed that day right through the bay that I left

far behind me.

In O'Connor's yacht we boldly sailed around the Edward

crew.
Our green flag floated in the breeze, with the red, white

and blue.
The Boston ladies sweetly sang, their melodies remind

me,
Of Bantr}^ Bay far, far away and the friends I left behind

me.

Young Lyons, bold like a knight of old, my friend sincere

and true,
Invited me most cordially to share his craft with you;
His kindness I will ne'er forget, his courtesies remind-

me, ':

Of my native land far, far away and the friends I left

behind me.



98 BIRTH AND ADOPTION.

'Tis sad to part from you asthore and leave the tyrants

rule you;
I know that on your shore there are men who are tried

and true, too;
Now, Patsy Stack, when I go back, I hope I'll married

find thee,
And settled down in Bantry Town that I left far behind

me.

Now fare you well, Tim Hurley, Jack Lyons and Patsy

Stack,
I hope to see you one and all the next time I go back.
Should you e'er come to Brooklyn Town, in Hart street

you will find me,
Four twenty-four is on the door for the friends I left

behind me.



THE MAID OF DROUMOURTNEEN.

I met her in the summer time on her own native soil
In famed Glengariff not far from Slievnagoil ;
Her eyes are of azure blue and sparklingly doth shine ;
As we sailed that day right through the bay the weather
it was fine.

She's a credit to her native land, my own dear isle so

green,
I'll ne'er forget when first I met the Maid of Drou-

mourtneen.



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 99

I see her walking through the street, erect, with stately

mien,
She's fresh and fair with golden hair, defiant as a queen.
She left her home when young in years and went across

the sea^
And sought a home beneath that flag — the Flag of

Liberty.

She longed to see her country home, also the village green,
Where oft she played in childhood days — the Maid of
Droumourtneen.



Once more she's in America, at home she could not stay,
The rents and taxes were too high, she had to go away.
She ne'er forgot the Emerald Isle, a patriot is she,
And willingly would give her life to set old Ireland
free.

She's one of Erin's daughters, and that I proudly ween,
Always true to Motherland, the Maid of Droumourtneen.



Though I may ne'er see her again, I'm proud to know

that she,
Contented now and happy, is in this Land of Liberty.
May fortune always smile on her through every weal and

woe,
And may she live to see the day the Saxon is laid low.

I wish that I could hear her sing ''The Wearing of the

Green"
As I did in her native land — the Maid of Droumourtneen.



L.ofC.



100 BIRTH AND ADOPTION.

Fare thee well, Glengariff, Dromore and Collomane, '
I left your hills and valleys when the day began to dawn ;
When I sailed from the Cove of Cork to cross the ocean

wide
The subject of my ditty was sitting by my side.

And when I left sweet Innisfail, that island in the sheen,
I heaved a sigh and bid good-by to the Maid of Drou-
mourtneen.



My thoughts are now of bygone days, Scart and Bantry

Bay,
Coleen and Schull, Crook Haven, too — in Cal-i-for-ni-a.
I hope that I will live to see, and that from shore to shore,
Our green flag wave triumphantly from Antrim to

Dromore.

'Tis there the children of the Gael would rally 'round the

green.
And she, brave girl, would cross the main — the Maid of

Droumourtneen.




BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 101

JUDAS ISCARIOT SHERIDAN— THE PEELER.

In Ireland lived a hireling employed by England's king,

Who mutilated cattle and home their tails would bring

To make up soup for comrades of English nomination,

Who drank it on a Friday by special dispensation ;

The turtle was not "in it" when the ox-tail went around

To satisfy the cravings of an Irish traitor hound.

They call him Sergeant Sheridan — the people on him

frown —
A disgrace to her that bore him in old Roscommon Town.

He sent the innocent to prison to gain a devil's reward,

In trying to get promotion and adding to his hoard.

His pal was an impostor, Bill Wyndham was his name.

Who to the great Lord Edward relationship doth claim.

They sent the innocent to prison for acts they ne'er com-
mitted ;

Oh, God ! to think that such a wretch on earth should be
permitted,

But they will reap a just reward on the great Judgment
Day,

When they'll have no chance of pardon, and little time
to pray.

His work was known in Dublin, within the Castle wall.
And those whose lives he swore away to wear a chain and

ball;
The judge was always on his side, the jury would agree
To take the oath of Sheridan 'gainst Irish liberty.
His conscience now must gnaw him, the vilest of the vile.
For he bereft fond mothers of their sons in Erin's Isle.



103 BIRTH AND ADOPTION.

The brand of Cain is on his brow, his carcass is tattooed ;
'Twill not be long until he is like an animal lassoed.

This cursed wretch would cut the heart, the liver and the

spleen,
The tongues pull out and eyeballs, too, for England's

king and queen ;
And this was done in Ireland, that saintly land so fair.
By a cowardly Irish Peeler, with whom none can

compare ;
He burned hay, he burned oats, produced on Irish soil
By brawny hands, with God's own aid, who honestly doth

toil.
He maimed the beasts upon the field, the earth did

desecrate
With his foul deeds throughout the land, with Wyndham

for his mate.

There is no other nation on this earth would tolerate such

deeds
As burning hay and maiming calves and cattle in the

meads.
And Wyndham knew the foulest work that e'er could be

committed.
And this loathsome wretch unpunished go by Billy was

permitted.
This wicked wretch should meet his death upon a gallows

tree;
His carcass then should be cut down and cast into the

sea;
His body ne'er should lie in consecrated ground.
For of traitors and informers none like him can be found.



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 103

This ruffian is now living on fair Columbia's shore,
A disgrace to our republic now and for evermore.
He dare not stay in Ireland, for there he would be slain,
But he is in America and here he will remain.
Fitzharris was deported from this great land so free,
They sent him back to Dublin across the deep blue sea.
His crime was being an Irishman and hating English

laws.
For he refused the blood-money 'gainst Ireland's holy

cause.



ON BOARD THE "TEUTONIC."

To-day, before the sun goes down. Old Ireland's peaks

we'll see,
An exile from your shores I've been for years, "Asthore

Machree" ;
I'm longing now to see your vales, just as in days of

yore;
In foreign lands I ne'er forgot your fertile plains,

asthore.

CHORUS.

Sailing home, sailing home, from far across the sea ;
Sailing to Old Ireland from the land of liberty.
Sailing home, sailing home, from far across the sea ;
Sailing to Old Ireland from the land of liberty.

We sailed away with goodly speed and left New York

behind ;
A jolly crowd we had on board, who knew no troubled

mind ;



104 BIRTH AND ADOPTION.

On the 26th of June, with spirits light and gay,
On board of the ''Teutonic" we sailed down through the
Bay.

Right on the lee ! why there is land, though miles it is

away ;
Behold it now, both one and all, where first I saw the day.
I proudly hail you. Motherland, and greet you with a

smile;
The fairest nation on this earth is poor old Erin's Isle.

The historic Cove of Cork we'll see before sundown,
Haulbowline, Spike and Galley Head, and also Augha-

down;

Baltimore's famed Castle, known both far and wide.
Where, fighting for her honor, O'Driscoll's daughter died.

Toward the Bull, Cow and the Calf with steady wind we

glide,
And the Old Head of Kinsale, where Munster's Chieftain

died ;
Kerry Head and mountain peaks are looming in the

shade,
Daunt's Old Rock and Fastnet, too, by Nature there were

laid.

Though now you are in bondage, your chains will yet be

broke.
Your stalwart sons and daughters will burst in twain

your yoke;
And then these alien hirelings to other lands will go,
For Irishmen will now unite and deal that longed-for

blow.



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 105

Cheer up, then, sons of Erin, Old Ireland must be free ;
At last we are united in fight for liberty.
The Orange and the Green will now march hand in hand
To strike a blow for liberty in dear Old Ireland.

No bigot shall our conscience mar, nor slave instill his

fears,
While fighting for our sacred rights as Irish Volunteers.
The Orange and the Green in triumph then will wave,
And soon you'll see a monument above brave Emmet's

grave.



DEAR OLD COLLOMANE.

When I was but a boy and played upon the village green,
Where you could hear the bagpipes in happy days I ween,
The boys and girls would often go to hear the Piper

Bawn,
And many a pleasant day I spent in dear old

CoUomane.

From Aughaville we often went on Sunday afternoon
To hear old Peter play the pipes — he gave us many a

tune ;
His wife sat close beside him as gentle as a fawn
And told them take their partners in dear old Col-

lomane.



106 BIRTH AND ADOPTION.

The boys and girls would courting go, and when the da)-

was o'er
With spirits gay would wend their way from thee to old

Dromore ;
Some would remain at Crowley's and take a cruiskeen

laun
And not go home till morningfrom dear old Collomane.

"The Croppy Boy" you would hear then, and "Rising of
the Moon,"

Who dare run down old Ireland? — also the Paustin fuin.
I often heard McCarthy sing the "Colleen Bawn"
And "The Boys Are Coming Horne" in dear old Col-
lomane.

By field and mead and purling stream in youthful days I

strayed,
By hill and dale through wood and vale, through heather

and through glade ;
The days I spent in merriment, often until dawn,
I'll ne'er forget while life is left, in dear old Collomane.

I fancy I am often there, though in a foreign clime,

I'll ne'er forget your hills and vales and mountain peaks

sublime ;
I'll ne'er forget my early days in meadow, brook and

lawn.
When I a stripling went to play in dear old Collomane.



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 107

AN IRISH GIRL.

She once lived home with parents dear before she crossed

the sea^
And with a broken heart left her own country ;
She left the little babbling brook, the cottage by the hill.
Where she first saw the light of day, which made her

heart's blood thrill.
You'll meet her on the battlefield where cannon loud doth

roar,
You'll meet her in the banquet hall far, far from Erin's

shore,
You'll meet her in the pesthouse where she goeth at her

peril ;
No danger does she fear, for she's an Irish girl.

You'll meet her in the workshop, you'll meet her in the

store,
Waiting on the customers and selling goods galore ;
You'll meet her in the kitchen and dining-room also,
Her services are sought for wherever she may go.
You'll find her a designer, an artist and typewriter.
In fact, in every walk of life you may be sure to find her.
In the schoolroom and the music-hall each day you'll see

her whirl,
Always wrapped up in her work, for she's an Irish girl.

You'll find her in the restaurant and also at the books,
She's taken for her purity, not always for. her looks;
You'll find her in the factory, working like a slave,
But true to Faith and Motherland across the ocean's
wave;



108 BIRTH AND ADOPTION.

You'll see her Sunday morning with raiment rich and

rare —
There is no lady in the land but she can with compare.
When married she's contented more than a lord or earl,
Whatever cause, there's no divorce, for she's an Irish

girl.

She ne'er forgets the mother that nursed her night and

day,
Till she was forced to leave her home and go far, far

away.
Her father dear she thinks of, too, though she was young

in years.
And often when she thinks of him in silence she sheds

tears.
She's noted for her modesty, for that she is well known
In England and America as well as Innishowen ;
If e'er a man insults her, he'll do so at his peril,
For she would die before she'd yield, she is an Irish girl.

You'll find her in the drawing-room, with smiles she will

you greet
And Irish hospitality where'er you will her meet;
You'll find her at the organ and leader in the choir,
Instructing little children, it is her heart's desire ;
You'll find her in the convent, forever there to dwell.
Leaving all her kith and kin after a long farewell ;
She's a credit to her country despite the English churl,
Virtuous and faithful, for she's an Irish girl.

You'll find her in the meadow arid also on the lawn,
You'll find her in the dairy when the day begins to dawn.



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 109

You'll find her in the creamery, you'll find her at the fair,
You'll find her with the milking pail, none with her can

compare.
When the boys go to court her with voices low and sweet
She treats them all with courtesy whene'er they chance

to meet.
You'll find her in South Africa, and also Mexico,
You'll always find an Irish girl, no matter where you go.



A TRIBUTE TO MAJOR JOHN M'BRIDE.

Who is he with stately mien who lately came to town,
Fearless as an eagle, with features bronzed and brown?
He fought in many a battle, but ne'er received a scar,
Though he was foremost in the fray when Kruger went

to war.
He bivouacked both night and day with comrades brave

and true.
Upon the veldt and on the hills, no fear he ever knew.
His thoughts were of his native land, he was his mother's

pride;
To-day she should feel proud of him, brave Major John

McBride !

And when he left his native hills in Mayo far away.

He prayed that he would live to see the dawn of Free-
dom's day;

He steered his bark for Africa and fought for freedom
there, ; . .^ .: ^

Though he would rather live at home and breathe his
native a;ir.



110 BIRTH AND ADOPTION.

When Botha raised his battle flag he rallied 'neath its
fold,

And swore that he would do or die beneath its green and
gold ;

He fought beside the valiant Boer and with his laws com-
plied,

And many a Saxon felt the blows of Major John
McBride.

He fought with gallant Blake, DeWet and General Conje,

too,
At Ladysmith and Kimberley, when balls like hailstones

flew.
At Krugersdorp and Mafeking he fought the redcoats

there,
Although they numbered ten to one he drove them in

despair.
Six hundred English hirelings lay dead upon the field,
McBride's command with shot and shell forced Fighting

Bob to yield;
And once again, at Spion Kop, he to the front did ride,
And when his horse was seen to fall, on foot rushed John

McBride.

Now he is in America and ready as of yore

To strike a blow for Motherland on poor old Erin's

shore.
The Peelers or the Redcoats, of them he has no fear.
On foot or on a prancing steed, this Irish Volunteer.
He fought in foreign lands to help the gallant Boer,
When English bullets rattled and cannon loud did roar;



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. Ill

So Irishmen get ready, he is old Erin's pride,

And terror to the Saxon race, is Major John McBride.

And when that longed-for morn arrives, in spite of King

or Peer,
Though outlawed now, he will be there, no danger does

he fear.
The hirelings of an alien race have met him once before,
That meeting was in Africa — the next will be Glenore.
His record is well known among the brave and true.
The sons and daughters of the Gael, the faithful and the

few;
The tears of the oppressed by him will soon be dried.
In freedom's cause he'll lead the van, brave Major John

McBride !

We have been robbed of God's own rights by a brutal,

hireling crew;
Some are the spawn of Cromwell's breed, and some are

Irish, too.
The Dublin Fusileers good English soldiers made,
Though killed and captured on the veldt by the Irish-
Boer Brigade.
No more they'll see Fermanagh, Dundalk or Tanderagee,
They fought against the valiant Boer and Irish liberty ;
Fighting in a robber cause, those renegades all died
By blows dealt them by Irishmen like Major John
McBride.



112 BIRTH AND ADOPTION.

THINKING OF HOME.

In the great Golden West I am thinking of home, the

place where I first saw the light,
The meadows and brooklets and verdure so green and

sweet smiling faces so bright;
The church and the schoolhouse, the mill-pond and bright,

rolling river close by,
When my thoughts fly to thee, over mountain and sea, my

poor heart for you oft doth sigh.

I think of the days when I ofttimes strayed with the

boys and the girls so fair,
To Bantry's old town, that place of renown, where none

with her maids can compare.
God bless them, I pray, though far, far away across the

wide ocean so blue,
May the day soon be nigh when we'll conquer or die

a-fighting, Acushla, for you.

The hills and the valleys loom up in the gloom, the

meadows and murmuring streams,
Your far, far-off shore, I may ne'er see more, but you

oft will appear in my dreams.
Since the strangers have murdered and plundered our

race, and forced us to wander from home.
We shall never forget the foul deeds and the thefts, no

matter where'er we may roam.

These hirelings of hell, though a sad tale to tell, a curse
to my dear native shore,



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 113

Caused millions to go through weal and through woe and

never old Ireland see more.
The purest and dearest of Ireland's fair maids from

fathers and mothers would go,
And brothers and sisters with sad broken hearts, that in

foreign lands now are laid low.



Though sad is our fate since we should emigrate and

leave our own land far behind.
And the ivy-clad cottage that stood by the hill, their

memory's fresh in my mind.
May we yet see the day in foray or fray with an army in

dear Erin's Isle,
To banish the snakes from Killarney's fair lakes and

those who our homes would despoil.



I think of the days of my childhood always that I spent

in the land of my birth.
From the bridge by the grove where I often would rove

with my heart full of joy and of mirth.
The lodgehouse and gate, Davy Barry and Kate, Jago,

Dan Whelpley and Co.,
I shall never forget while one breath is left, no matter

where'er I may go.



114 BIRTH AND ADOPTION.

THOUGHTS OF BOYHOOD DAYS.

How often, oh, how often, do I think of days gone by,
The church and little babbling brook where I knew

naught but joy;
Now in a foreign country, in dreams I'm often there,
Revisiting my childhood scenes, none with which can

compare.
The schoolhouse and the cottage that stood close by the

hill,
Where oft I played upon the green, my heart with joy

would fill.

The rough and ready warring blades to Ireland always

true,
First learned to hate the Saxon and made the tyrants few ;
I grew up in those troubled days in good old sixty-eight,
Till I was forced away from home, and had to emigrate.
I swore I'd not forget the past, though in a foreign clime.
For Ireland is my native land until the end of time.

That little schoolhouse still is there and rustic church

also.
Where I spent many happy days in childhood long ago ;
And though an exile far from there, across the deep blue

sea,
A hope remains within this heart old Ireland will be free.
If we could drive away from there the minions of the

Crown,
We'd raise once more above the red the Harp without

the Crown.



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. 115

GOLEEN.

From Bantry Bay one August day we started rather
early,

A lady fair with golden hair helped to make up the
party.

With lightning speed our faithful steed, with Jack be-
hind the lines.

From Droumourtneen to Gabriel we passed the
Capaugh mines,

The maids and matrons looked so fair tipon the village
green,

The Sunday I drove through the rain to speak at old
Goleen.

When I reached that ancient village that overlooks the

sea,
Where ruined castles yet remain in th' Isles of Carbery,
Where O'Driscolls and O'Mahoneys in former days

did reign,
Till the robbers came and plundered them from far

across the main.
That day I thought of you, Asthore, wrapped in your

emerald green,
When I told how you were plundered that Sunday at

Goleen.

It was convenient to the sea where they had pitched

their camp.
Brave men were there to do and dare, although the air

was damp.



116 BIRTH AND ADOPTION.

The cowardly Peelers too were there with weapons

shining bright,
To show John Bull their loyalty in case there was a

fight.
Joan Riley stood beside them, defiant was her mien.
No shoe or stocking did she wear that Sunday at

Goleen.



The meeting called to order, the speakers they began,
Joan Riley watched the Bobbies, she was foremost in

the van,
To see her as she gazed upon the minions of the Crown,
You'd swear she was determined to pull their colors

down;
She never took her eyes from off our floating flag of

green.
The Sunday I stood on the cart and spoke at old

Goleen.



The chairman bravely spoke his mind and told them

what to do,
If they stood by one another no power could them

subdue.
No parish Priest or Curate or Parson did I see.
To raise his voice to God above for Irish liberty.
Oh, mother dear, why must it be that they could not be

seen.
The Sunday I drove forty miles to speak at old Goleen ?



BIRTH AND ADOPTION. U7

Your daughter from America, a credit to your shore,
Who crossed the broad Atlantic where dashing billows
roar.

Was present at the meeting, with a sister young in

years,
And when I spoke of you, Machree— the two of them

in tears.
Their name is Lynch; they dearly love to wear the Irish

green,

And both were with me on that day I spoke at old
Goleen.

Raycroft bold, that knight of old, most manfully did
say,

"I'm not afraid of all the kings from London to Bom-
bay.

My kith and kin were murdered upon this sacred soil,

And I am here to strike a blow at those who would
despoil.

They robbed and plundered us from here along to
Droumourtneen,

So be prepared to smite them down, brave men of old


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Online LibraryPatrick O'BrienBirth and adaption; → online text (page 6 of 13)