The wind that shakes the barley

I sat me in the valley green,
I sat me with my true love -
My sad heart strove the two between,
The old love and the new love -

The old for her and new that made
Me think on Ireland dearly -
While soft the wind bew down the glen
And shook the golden barley.

‘Twas hard the woeful words to frame
To break the ties that bound us;
But harder still to bear the shame
Of foreign chains around us.

And so I said, “The mountain glen
I’ll seek at morning early,
And join the brave United Men”
While soft winds shook the barley.

While sad I kissed away her tears
My fond arms ’round her flinging,
The foeman’s shot burst on our ears,
From out the wild woods ringing;

The bullet pierced my true love’s side,
In life’s young spring so early,
And on my breast in blood she died,
When the soft winds shook the barley.

But blood for blood withour remorse
I’ve ta’en at Oulart Hollow;
I’ve placed my true love’s clay-cold corpse
Where I full soon will follow;

And ‘roud her grave I wander drear,
Noon, night and morning early,
With breaking heart whene’er I hear
//: The wind that shakes the barley ://

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