Rebel On the Run

Melody -

John Ryes

There was a bold Tipperary boy,
From the Glens of Aherlow,
He sang the song of his country's wrong,
Where tbe lovely Anner flows,
And as he took me by the hand,
His happy home to leave,
Forced by England's treachery,
To fill a Rebel's grave.

Goodnight my honest neighbour,
I'll call to see you soon,
For tonight I'm on to Slievenamon
Where brightly shiues the moon,
I'll seek the woods of sweet Glenbower,
Or in some rock or cave,
For glory and for Ireland's sake,
To fill a Rebel's grave.
  For six long weary months he roamed
The rocky mountain side,
The heather for his pillow
And by his friends supplied,
And as he roamed, outlawed from home,
From rise 'till set of sun,
At night, he'd steal down wood and glen,
A Rebel on the run.

A traitor crept among us,
And the cause it soon was sold,
To the hirelings of the British Queen,
For the greedy Saxon gold.
But Fenian men will rise again,
Their country's soul to save,
And strike a blow for liberty,
And fill a Rebel's grave.

A British soldier caused his death,
By a rifle shot he fell,
The red-brown heath if it could speak,
His bravery would tell.
A Saxon soldier he laid low,
In the gallant fight he made,
And now he sleeps in old Kilcash,
And fills a Rebel's grave.

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