  Street Ballad By Memory inspired, And love of country fired, The deeds of Men I love to dwell upon; And the patriotic glow Of my spirit must bestow A tribute to O'Connell that is gone, boys, gone! Here's a memory to the friends that are gone. In October 'Ninety-seven— May his soul find rest in Heaven— William Orr to execution was led on: The jury, drunk, agreed That Irish was his creed; For perjury and threats drove them on, boys, on: In 'Ninety-Eight—the month July— The informer's pay was high; When Reynolds gave the gallows brave MacCann; But MacCann was Reynolds' first— One could not allay his thirst; So he brought up Bond and Byrne, that are gone, boys, gone. Here's the memory of the friends that are gone! We saw a nation's tears Shed for John and Henry Shears; Betrayed by Judas, Captain Armstrong; We may forgive, but yet We never can forget The poisoning of Maguire that is gone, boys, gone— Our high Star and true Apostle that is gone! How did Lord Edward die? Like a man, without a sigh; But he left his handiwork on Major Swan! But Sirr, with steel-clad breast, And coward heart at best, Left us cause to mourn Lord Edward that is gone, boys, gone: September, Eighteen-three, Closed this cruel history, When Emmett's blood the scaffold flowed upon O, had their spirits been wise, They might then realize Their freedom—but we drink to Mitchell that is gone, boys, gone: Here's the memory of the friends that are gone! |
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