PART I

Can it be true this thing they say? That she and I beyond that day At home here may no longer stay? _Mary, queen of earth and sea, Dear Mary, have mercy on her and me!_

Since my father died six months are gone, Brothers and sisters have I none. My lady and I live here alone. _Castle towers, you are stout and tall, And the Boyne flows close to your outer wall!_

Thirteen winters hath she lain Pallet-held in woeful pain, Small hope she ever will rise again! _Mary, queen of earth and sea, Sweet Mary, look down upon her and me!_

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Old Murrough swears they shall not in, But my lord is dead; our force is thin; More blood to spill methinks were sin.

Here ’neath our Trysting Oak, I weep. All round and round the grass rolls deep, Sweet Saints! How sound the cattle sleep!