John Keegan Casey

The Rising of the Moon

(Air: The Wearin’ o’ the Green)

Oh! then tell me, Seán O’Farrell,

Tell me why you hurry so?

“Hush, mo buachaill, hush and listen,”

And his cheeks were all aglow.

“I bear orders from the Captain,

Get you ready quick and soon

For the pikes must be together

By the rising of the moon.”

Oh! then tell me, Seán O’Farrell,

Where the gathering is to be?

“In the old spot by the river

Right well known to you and me.

One word more – for signal token,

Whistle up the marching tune,

With your pike upon your shoulder,

By the rising of the moon.”

Out from many a mud-wall cabin

Eyes were watching through the night,

Many a manly breast was throbbing

For the blessed warning light.

Murmurs passed along the valleys

Like the Banshees lonely croon,

And a thousand blades were flashing

At the rising of the moon.

There beside the singing river

That dark mass of men were seen;

Far above the shining weapons

Hung their own beloved green.

“Death to every foe and traitor!

Forward! strike the marching tune,

And hurrah, my boys, for freedom!

‘Tis the rising 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 noon,

Who would follow in their footsteps

At the rising of the moon!