| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895. |
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| The Irish Rapparees |
| | | Sir Charles Gaban Duffy (b. 1816) |
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| RIGH Shemus 1 he has gone to France, and left his crown behind; | |
| Ill luck be theirs, both day and night, put running in his mind! | |
| Lord Lucan followed after with his Slashers brave and true, | |
| And now the doleful keen is raised—“What will poor Ireland do? | |
| What must poor Ireland do? | 5 |
| Our luck,” they say, “has gone to France—what can poor Ireland do?” | |
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| O, never fear for Ireland, for she has soldiers still, | |
| For Rory’s boys are in the wood, and Remy’s on the hill! | |
| And never had poor Ireland more loyal hearts than these— | |
| May God be kind and good to them, the faithful Rapparees! | 10 |
| The fearless Rapparees! | |
| The jewel were you, Rory, with your Irish Rapparees! | |
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| O, black’s your heart, Clan Oliver, and colder than the clay! | |
| O, high’s your head, Clan Sassenach, since Sarsfield’s gone away! | |
| It ’s little love you bear to us for sake of long ago; | 15 |
| But hold your hand, for Ireland still can strike a deadly blow— | |
| Can strike a mortal blow: | |
| Och, duar-na-Críosd! ’t is she that still could strike a deadly blow! | |
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| The Master’s bawn, the Master’s seat, a surly bodagh fills; | |
| The Master’s son, an outlawed man, is riding on the hills. | 20 |
| But God be prais’d that round him throng, as thick as summer bees, | |
| The swords that guarded Limerick wall—his loyal Rapparees! | |
| His loving Rapparees! | |
| Who dare say no to Rory Oge, with all his Rapparees? | |
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| Black Billy Grimes of Latnamard, he rack’d us long and sore— | 25 |
| God rest the faithful hearts he broke!—we ’ll never see them more; | |
| But I ’ll go bail he ’ll break no more, while Truagh has gallows-trees; | |
| For why?—he met, one lonesome night, the fearless Rapparees! | |
| The angry Rapparees! | |
| They never sin no more, my boys, who cross the Rapparees! | 30 |
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| Now, Sassenach and Cromweller, take heed of what I say, | |
| Keep down your black and angry looks that scorn us night and day: | |
| For there ’s a just and wrathful Judge that every action sees, | |
| And He ’ll make strong, to right our wrong, the faithful Rapparees! | |
| The fearless Rapparees! | 35 |
| The men that rode at Sarsfield’s side, the roving Rapparees! | |
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