"Oh, then! tell me, Shawn O'Ferrall,
Tell me why you hurry so?"
"Hush, ma bouchal, hush and listen;"
And his cheeks were all aglow.
"I bear ordhers from the captain:
Get you ready, quick and soon;
For the pikes must be together
At the risin' of the moon."
"Oh, then! tell me, Shawn O'Ferrall.
Where the gatherin' is to be?"
"In the ould spot by the river,
Right well known to you and me.
One word more—for signal token,
Whistle up the marchin' tune,
"With your pike upon your shoulder
By the risin' of the moon."
Out from many a mud-wall cabin,
Eyes were watching through that night:
Many a manly chest was throbbing
For the blessed warning light.
Murmurs passed along the valley,
Like the banshee's lonely croon,
And a thousand blades were flashing,
At the risin' of the moon.
There beside the singing river
That dark mass of men was seen,
Far above the shining weapons
Hung their own beloved green.
"Death to every foe and traitor!
Forward, strike the marchin' tune,
And hurrah, my boys, for freedom!
'Tis the risin' of the moon."
Well, they fought for poor old Ireland,
And full bitter was their fate.
(Oh! what glorious pride and sorrow
Fill the name of Ninety-eight! )
Yet, thank God, e'en still are beating
Hearts in manhood's burning moon,
Who would follow in their footsteps
At the risin' of the moon!