A shepherd that lives on Slieve Gullion Came down to the County Tyrone, And told us how Redmond O'Hanlon Won't let the rich Saxons alone! He rides over moorland and mountain, By night, till a stranger is found, Saying, "Take your own choice to be lodging Right over or under the ground!" If you whistle out "Whoo!" like a native He leaves you the way to go clear; If you squeal out a "Hew!" like a Scotchman, You will pay him a guinea a year. But if you cry "Haw!" like a Saxon, Och, then, 'tis your life or your gold! By stages Count Redmond O'Hanlon Gets back what they plundered of old!

Old Coote of Cootehill is heartbroken; And Johnston beyond in the Fews Has wasted eight barrels of powder Upon him, but all to no use! Although there's four hundred pounds sterling If Redmond you'd put out of sight; Mind, if the heart's dark in your body, 'Tis Redmond will let in the light. The great Duke of Ormond is frantic - His soldiers got up with the lark To catch the bold Redmond by daylight; But Redmond caught them in the dark. Says he, when he stripped them and bound them: "Take back my best thanks to his Grace For all the fine pistols and powder He sent to this desolate place!"

Then, here's to you, Redmond O'Hanlon! Long may your Excellency reign, High-ranger of Woods and of Rivers! Surveyor of Mountains and Plain! Examiner-in-Chief of all Traitors! Protector of all that are True - Henceforward, King Charley of England May take what he gets, after you.

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