When Saint Peter’s Day was A-Dawning
Source: The Stone Fiddle by Paddy Tunney
Location: New Edition, page 139 / 140
You true sons of Grainnie, that’s daring and clever,
Give ear unto my recitation,
Although I’m scarce able for to trace all this subject
For want of some more education.
But still I’ll endeavour to consult with the Muse,
That never did aid or petition refuse,
Concerning the deeds of the sons of Saint Patrick,
To show their behaviour, how dacent they acted,
In the town of Corliss, where we were respected
While Saint Peter’s Day was a-dawning.
The number appeared, in Corliss we hear,
It was ten thousand bodies in station,
With their helmets of stell, bright guns and broad shields,
For to free and protect all this nation.
Each body assembled soon formed in a line.
They were dressed all in grandeur for to take the prize;
They would fight till they’d die, of they’d win satisfaction,
For Island Magee, for the Boyne or for Aughrim,
For the debts that were due for the blood of the martyrs,
While Saint Peter’s Day was a-dawning.
Our drums they did beat and our trumpets did sound,
The harp of old Ireland played Orange Lie Down,
And the Brunswicks awoke in this nation all round,
And the Black Hare of Luther no longer was sleeping
For she quickly arose, between mourning and weeping.
And through hedges and holes at us they were peeping,
While Saint Peter’s Day was a-dawning.
At Fetherna Bush these parties were dressed
In silk scarves and green sashes tied round them.
With their helmets of steel, bright guns and broad shields,
Their bugles and trumpets were soundin’.
By reinforcements our lines they did fill
With all the bright heroes around Cullaville.
The spectators did gaze and with wonder did fill
For to see us approaching, as we all marched together,
With our blooming cockades, our neat plume and feather.
We carried the sway, took the pride of all other,
While Saint Peter’s Day was a-dawning.
You true sons of Grainniu, Milesians so pure,
Who sprang from the Rocks of Gadelus,
Who was bit by the snakes and by Moses was cured,
And green was the spot he was healed on.
Patriarch David was chosen our king,
Who Goliath the giant, he slew with a sling,
And down from his race our Virgin did spring,
Who bore the Messiah who trampled the serpent,
That came to the Garden where Adam was tempted.
And His blood he did spill for to have sin exempted,
While Saint Peter’s Day was a-dawning.
Well, it’s now to conclude, my advice to you
Is to tear down all rotten foundations.
And banish this crew that our land did pollute,
And corrupted our true ordinations.
We’ll raise up a storm and chase them away,
All the informers since King Harry’s day,
And all other tribes that with them would say,
We’ll send them sailing, all putrid and carron,
To some other island that’s fruitless and barren.
For this one was promised to Moses and Aaron,
While Saint Peter’s Day was a-dawning.