Sean Treacy Songs
Sean
Treacy by J. Crofts
We often
heard our fathers tell
How in the Fenian times
The noblest of Tipperary's sons
Imprisoned spent their lives.
Those tales we can hear daily,
And the deeds of valiant men,
As the war goes on unceasingly
Through valley, hill and glen.
They searched for Sean at midnight;
His comrade with him slept.
Macready's murdering bloodhounds
In silence on them crept.
Our heroes fought as brave men should
And made a gallant fight;
With bullet food they did conclude
The lives of Smith and White.
In a crowded Dublin Street Sean died
On a dim October day;
The story will be told with pride
While men in Eirinn stay.
With trusty gun held in his hand,
Two sleuth hounds he laid low:
'Twas well they knew this island through
They had no brave foe.
When the British saw the battle
They shook with fear and dread
A machine gun then did rattle
And our hero bold lay dead.
Sean Treacy killed! Sean Treacy killed!
Was borne along the breeze.
No bells were rung; no caoin was sung;
He died for Ireland free.
While grass grows green in Eirinn
We'll think of you, brave Sean!
We'll sing your praise o'er hill and vale
When grief and gloom are gone.
And when the dawn of Freedom's sun
Shines out in Eirinn's skies,
In our Gaelic tongue we'll tell our sons
How brave Sean Treacy died.
Sean Treacy by Peadar Kearney
To you! O
Flower of Ireland’s Youth,
Across the
grave we send a Nation’s praise
Hailing
your name - the greatest name of all,
Young
Ireland’s pioneers!
Chanting
your courage cool;
Your
deathless love for her,
Your
changeless hate for those
Who sough
her soul to rend-
Those you
pursued and slew
Without
remorse-
Those you
destroyed and conquered
To the end.
Sean Treacy
(Air:
Spailpin a Rúin)
|
A Threasaigh cháidh! Molaim-se do láimh, Cé go bfhuil tú go tláth ‘san uaig anois. Ba láidir tú i bpáirt i n-aghaidh Ropoirí Sheáin Bhí ar buile ‘sar fán trid an nduithche. I dteangain na mBárd, béidh t’ainm go h-árd, Mar gheall ar do grádh d’ár staire- Do throidis gach lá go meanmnach grádhach Ag saothrú siothcán agus buaidh dhi. Is truagh linn tú ar lár id’ óige ‘sid bhláth, Nuair atáimid ag tnú le saoirse. Ach mairfidh do cháil an fhaid a bheidh trácht Ar fhearaibh gan sgáth ‘ sa tír seo. Roimh ghramaisg an áir do seóladh thar sáil’ I leith go h-oileán ár sínnsear, Ag dóghadh ‘sa robáil ar fuaid Inse Fáil, ‘S ag creachadh gan náir’ ár ndaoine. Meireach tusa ‘s do shórt do bheimís go deó Mar bhacaigh ag cur stró ar gach éinne Mar do sgiobadh ár stór’ sár maoin ós ár gcómhair Mar sguabtar an ceó des na sléibhte. Ba cheap-magaidh is spóirt ár mbuaidhreamh ‘sár mbrón Ag an Sgriosadóir Seón úd an Eirligh, Gur airigh sé an gleó ar gach taobh de go beó ‘S gur mhothuigh sé cómacht bhúr bpiléar-na. Anois codail go sámh, a Ogánaigh breágh, ‘San roilg sin lámh led’ ghaoltaibh, No go dtagaidh an lá nuair a ghlaodhfar go h-árd Ar ár shíolruigh ó Adhamh agus Eabha. I bhFlathas na ngrást go rabhair go h-árd I measg sgata breágh lághach de Gaedhealaibh, Is go raibh sé indán dom féin tar éis bháis Bheith i d’ fhochair i láthair an Aon-Mhic! |
O mild O’Treasaigh! I praise your strong hand, Atho’ you lie limp in the grave. Strong indeed Was your part against the Saxon ravishers running Stark mad through the land. In the Tongue of the Bards your name will be on high For your love for our own Love, Each day you fought with courage and yet magnanimously, Striving to bring her peace and victory. We mourn that you are stretched low in your youth and Bloom even as we await freedom, But your fame shall live as long as our heroes are Commemorated in our land. Before that slaughtering rabble that were hurled On us from beyond the sea on the island of our Ancestors, burning and ravaging all Inis Fail,- And shamelessly plundering the people- Ah, well, but for you and your comrades, we should Have been for ever like a beggar asking alms from All and each. Because our wealth and store were Swept away like mists from the hills. Our sorrow and anguish were but a laughing stock and a mockery To yon John of the destruction and Slaughter; until he heard the noise of battle all round Him, and felt the power of you rifles. Sleep gently then, brave Soldier in the Churchyard Beside your kindred. Until the day comes When all the seed and kindred of Adam and Eve Shall be called from their graves. In God’s Heaven may you be among the kind And gentle kin of all the Gael, And may it be my fate to be with you in the presence Of God’s Only Son! |
The moon shone down in Talbot Street
Where a dying rebel lay,
His arms were crossed and his body was stretched,
And his life blood flowed away.
A passing comrade heard his moans,
And the sufferer soon was found,
He gently raised his aching head,
Up from the cold damp ground.
" Softly, gently, comrade,"
he cried,
" No longer on earth must I stay,
" I will never more roam to my
own native home
" In Tipperary far away.
" A lock of my hair I pray you
take,
" To my mother so far away,
" And so as she will gaze on it,
" She fondly will think of me.
" Tell her it's down by the
Liffeyside,
" My mouldering bones do lay,
" There's a vision of light,
before me to-night
" In Tipperary far away."
His comrades gathered round him,
To bid him his last farewell,
He was as brave a young soldier
As ever in battle fell.
They dug a grave and beneath they laid,
Sean Treacy, brave and gay,
Who will never more roam to his own native home
In Tipperary far away.
The Station of Knocklong.
The news has spread thro' Ireland and spread from
shore to shore
Of such a deed no living man has ever heard
before,
From out a guarded carriage 'mid a panic-stricken
throng
Sean Hogan he was rescued at the Station of Knocklong.
When a guard of four policemen had their prisoner
minded well
As the fatal train sped o'er the rails conveying
him to his cell,
The prisoner then could scarce foretell of
hearts both brave and strong
That were planning for his rescue at the Station
of Knocklong.
The shades of eve were falling fast when the
train at last drew in
It was halted for an hour or so by a few
courageous men
They sprang into the carriage and it did not take
them long,
" Hands up or die "
was the rebel cry at the Station of Knocklong.
Now King George's pampered hirelings they
shrivelled up with fear
And thought of how they placed in cells full
many a Volunteer
Now, face to face with armed men to escape how
they did long
But two of them met with traitors' deaths at the
Station of Knocklong.
From Solohead to Limerick such deeds as these
were seen
And devil a tear was ever shed for Wallace of
Roskeen,
They did Old England's dirty work and did that work too long
But the renegades were numbered up at the Station
of Knocklong.
Now rise up Mother Erin and always be of cheer,
You'll never die while at your side there stand
such Volunteers,
From Dingle Bay to Garryowen the cheers will echo
long
Of the rescue of Sean Hogan at the Station of
Knocklong.
Ashtown Road.
(Air : The
Snowy-Breasted Pearl)
'Twas a cold December day
A lorry ploughed its way
Midst bullets splash and play
On Ashtown road.
In that car a living tool
Of England's hated rule
There was begun a duel
On Ashtown road.
Young Savage, unafraid,
With rifle and grenade
Attacked them undismayed
On Ashtown road.
But a bullet laid him low
From a rifle of the foe
That's another debt we owe
For Ashtown road.
But another day shall dawn
Like that cold December mom
When a Martyr's name was born
On Ashtown road.
We laid him in a grave
Where the willows sadly wave
Oh, Son of Erin brave
Farewell to thee.
Last update: 18
March 2010