Chapter IV

When William stormed with shot and shell
At the walls of Garryowen,
In the breach of death my Donal fell,
And he sleeps near the treaty stone.
That breach the foeman never crossed
While he swung his broadsword keen,
But I do not weep my darling lost,
For he fell in his jacket green.

Here is a song that Madam liked very much. It was the most popular song of the Fenians:

THE FELONS OF OUR LAND

Fill up once more, we'll drink a toast
To comrades far away,
No nation upon earth can boast
Of braver hearts than they;
And though they sleep in dungeons deep,
Or flee, outlawed and banned,
We love them yet, we can't forget
The felons of our land.

In boyhood's bloom and manhood's pride
Foredoomed by alien laws,
Some on the scaffold proudly died
For Ireland's holy cause;
And, brother, say, shall we to-day
Unmoved, like cowards stand,
While traitors shame and foes defame
The felons of our land?

Some in the convict's dreary cell
Have found a living tomb,
And some, unknown, unfriended, fell
Within the prison's gloom;
But what care we, although it be
Trod by a ruffian band?
God bless the clay where rest to-day
The felons of our land!

Let cowards sneer and tyrants frown,
Oh, little do we care!
The felon's cap 's the noblest crown
An Irish head can wear!
And every Gael in Innisfail
Who scorns the serf's vile brand,
From Lee to Boyne would gladly join
The felons of our land!

This is one of the songs of earlier risings which we all sang during the last one:

WRAP THE GREEN FLAG 'ROUND ME, BOYS

I

Wrap the green flag 'round me, boys,
To die 'twere far more sweet,
With Erin's noble emblem, boys,
To be my winding-sheet;
In life I longed to see it wave,
And followed where it led,
But now my eyes grow dim, my hand
Would grasp its last bright shred.

II

Oh, I had hopes to meet you, boys,
On many a well-fought field,
When to our bright green banner, boys,
The treacherous foe would yield;
But now, alas, I am denied
My dearest earthly prayer,
You'll follow and you'll meet the foe
But I shall not be there.

III

But though my body molder, boys,
My spirit will be free,
And every comrade's honor, boys,
Will still be dear to me;
And in the thick and bloody fight,
Let not your courage lag,
For I'll be there, and hovering near
Around the dear old flag!

This song, written by the Countess Markiewicz to the tune of "The Young May Moon," had a great effect in Dublin, before the rising, in preventing the British from getting Irish recruits. It was sung everywhere and went thus:

ANTI-RECRUITING SONG

I

The recruiters are raidin' old Dublin, boys,
It's them we'll have to be troublin', boys,
We'll go to their meetin's and give them such greetin's,
We'll give them in German for fun, me boys;
'Tis the Germans they're out to destroy, me boys,
Whose prosperity did so annoy, me boys,
So let each Irish blade just stick to his trade
And let Bull do his own dirty work, me boys.

CHORUS

For the Germans are winning the war, me boys,
And England is feeling so sore, me boys,
They're passing conscription, the only prescription
To make Englishmen go to the front, me boys.

II

Your boss, he won't go to the war, me boys,
Hun bullets do him so annoy, me boys,
So kindly he frees you, he does it to squeeze you
To fight for his money and him, me boys;
They've hunger conscription in Ireland, boys,
You'll starve till you're thin as a wire, me boys,
You'll get very thin, but you won't care a pin
For you'll know it's for Ireland's sake, me boys.

CHORUS

For the English are losing the war, me boys,
And they want _us_ all killed before, me boys,
The great German nation has sworn their damnation,
And we'll echo the curse with a will, me boys.