114. Aghadoe

THERE’S a glad in Aghadoe, Aghadoe, Aghadoe,

There’s a green and silent glade in Aghadoe,

Where we met, my Love and I, Love’s fair planet in the sky,

O’er that sweet and silent glade in Aghadoe.

There’s a glen in Aghadoe, Aghadoe, Aghadoe,

There’s a deep and secret glen in Aghadoe,

Where I hid him from the eyes of the red-coats and their spies

That year the trouble came to Aghadoe.

Oh! my curse on one black heart in Aghadoe, Aghadoe,

On Shaun Dhuv, my mother’s son in Aghadoe,

When your throat fries in hell’s drouth salt the flame be in your mouth,

For the treachery you did in Aghadoe!

For they tracked me to that glen in Aghadoe, Aghadoe,

When the price was on his head in Aghadoe;

O’er the mountain through the wood, as I stole to him with food,

When in hiding lone he lay in Aghadoe.

But they never took him living in Aghadoe, Aghadoe;

With the bullets in his heart in Aghadoe,

There he lay, the head—my breast keeps the warmth where once ’twould rest—

Gone, to win the traitor’s gold from Aghadoe!

I walked to Mallow Town from Aghadoe, Aghadoe,

Brought his head from the gaol’s gate to Aghadoe,

Then I covered him with fern, and I piled on him the cairn,

Like an Irish king he sleeps in Aghadoe.

Oh, to creep into that cairn in Aghadoe, Aghadoe!

There to rest upon his breast in Aghadoe!

Sure your dog for you could die with no truer heart than I—

Your own love cold on your cairn in Aghadoe.