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The Blackbird of Sweet AvondaleBy the sweet bay of Dublin, while carelessly strollingI sat myself down by a green myrtle shade Reclined on the beach, as the wild waves were rolling In sorrowful condoling, I saw a fair maid Her robes changed to mourning, that once were so glorious I stood in amazement to hear her sad wail Her heartstrings burst forth with wild accents uproarious Saying, "Where, where is my Blackbird of sweet Avondale?" "In the fair counties Meath, Wexford, Cork, and Tipperary, The rights of Old Ireland, my Blackbird did sing Ah, but woe to the hour, with heart light and airy Away from my arms, to Dublin took wing" "The fowlers waylaid him in hopes to ensnare him While I here in sorrow, his absence bewail Oh, it grieves me to think that the walls of Kilmainham Surround my dear Blackbird of sweet Avondale" "Oh, Ireland, my country, awake from your slumbers And give back my Blackbird, so dear unto me And let everyone know, by the strength of your numbers That we, as a nation, would wish to be free" "The cold prison dungeons is no habitation For one, to his country, was loyal and true Then give him his freedom, without hesitation And remember he fought hard for freedom and you" "Oh, Heaven, give ear to my consultation And strengthen the bold sons of Old Granuaile And God grant that my country will soon be a nation And bring back the Blackbird to sweet Avondale" |