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444 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF
Few fled that day : Will they bar our way When we come again ?
Our dead freres we buried,
They were but few, Our dead fibres we buried Where the dark waves hurried,
And flashed and flew : O sweet be their slumber Who thus have died In the battle's tide,
Innisfail, for you ! |
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THE BLACKSMITH OF LIMERICK
H
E grasped his ponderous hammer; he could not stand it more, To hear the bombshells bursting and the thundering battle's roar. He said : " The breach they're mounting, the Dutchman's murdering crew — I'll try my hammer on their heads and see what that can do I
"Now, swarthy Ned and Moran, make up that iron
well; 'Tis Sarsfield's horse that wants the shoes, so mind not
shot or shell." "Ah, sure," cried both, "the horse can wait—for
Sarsfield's on the wall, And where you go we'll follow, with you to stand or
fall!" |
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