The Wexford Boat Disaster

On the fourteenth day of November in Eighteen and Fifteen
We launched our boats and put to sea from T(?) green
The northwest wind began to blow as night began to fall
The fishermen being high to sea at the mercy of the squall

Our boats being small, well-rigged withal, were unable for to sail
(?) name of God, on our friends we must turn tail
We saw them kneel and pray to God as our boats were turned and tossed
And one by one neath those fearful waves our neighbors they were lost

Our skipper John watched the fleeting clouds that swept across the skies
Saying, Boys don't lose your courage until the moon will rise
The hours dragged by and the storm did die, our hopes returned anew
In the pale moonlight on that stormy night T(?) came into view

We reached ashore in the morning with our families all gathered there
And on their faces we could see a look of dark despair
Of the seven boats only one returned the story for to tell
May they rest in peace, those fishermen, the ones we loved so well

Carraig Rua

You may sing your fine songs and stories tell
Of places and scenes that you all know well
But I'll tell you now of the hill I do know
It is called Carraig Rua where the wild flowers grow

It is often I have walked it and looked all around
At places where history is still to be found
I look towards the west and I see Ferns town
Where the old church and abbey their ruins are near down

I look in amazement at MacMurragh's domain
With his castle still standing where his blood once did stain
Where Oliver Cromwell his forces did band
For he murdered and plundered and ravaged our land

I can see Boolavogue and the bold Shelmalier
Where Father John Murphy with his life held dear
As I look down on The Harrow where brave men did abide
It was there that the yeomen in '98 died

And now as I sit here on this hill for to rest
I can hear the small birds singing in the trees as they nest
Such peace and contentment is now to be found
May those men who achieved it in heaven be crowned

The Croppy Boy

Twas early early all in the spring
The small birds whistled and did sweetly sing
Changing their notes from tree to tree
And the song they sang was "Old Ireland Free"

Twas early early on a Tuesday night
The yeoman cavalry gave me a fright
To my misfortune and sad downfall
I was taken prisoner by Lord Cornwall

As I was marching up Wexford Street
My own first cousin I chanced to meet
My own first cousin did me betray
And for one bare guinea sold my life away

As I was standing on the scaffold high
My aged father was standing by
My aged father did me deny
And the name he gave me was the Croppy Boy

It was in Duncannon this young man died
And in Duncannon his body lies
All you good people that do pass by
Say a prayer, shed a tear for the Croppy Boy

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