Irish Song Lyrics 
from www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
Michael O'Brien, c.1896 
'Twas in 'ninety-six as the moon did fix Her beams o'er Scullabogue, The twinkling stars and the planet Mars Shone brightly o'er its grove; Where the Hessian brutes, they bit the dust, And Cromwell's crew were slain, Where the Yeomen fled and left their dead In the Ballyshannon Lane. 
 I sat awhile upon the stile At the Church in old Courtoyle One night in June, as the silvery moon O'er the Rebel's grave did sail; Scenes of 'Ninety-Eight which I relate Passed through my youthful brain, And I prayed for the dead, who from Raheen bled In Ballyshannon Lane. 
 I passed Jim Moore's and the old forge door Where old Evoy forged the pike The night being kind, no rain or wind Blew over hill or dyke; At Furlong's gate I changed to wait And through how this youth was slain, For the Hessian crew this youth they slew In the Ballyshannon Lane.
 My mother too, 'God rest her soul', She showed me where he fell. 'Twas across the lands where Doyle's house stands He fought manfully and well, And out by Kehoe's he chased the foes And many a Hessian was slain, Till six bayonets passed through his rebel breast In the Ballyshannon Lane. 
 In Keating's bawn at the morning's dawn, Where the barn was all in flames, My three uncles fell, I'm grieved to tell: That's Martin, Tom and James. While my aunt Kate stood at the gate Herself and child were slain; And my teeth still cringe for my revenge In the Ballyshannon Lane. 
 This was the song my mother sang Into my youthful ears; While down her cheeks for weeks and weeks Rolled hot and scalding tears. My brother, Mike, forged me a pike For to take to the hills again, And if Ireland need I'm here to bleed For the Ballyshannon Lane.