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Turlough Og O'Boyle
Turlough Og O'Boyle

Donegal, Ireland

Wild are thy hills O Donegal, that frown and darkly rise

as if to greet the mist that falls upon them from the skies

Dark,dark thy hills, and darker still thy mountain torrents flow

but none so dark as Maolmuire's heart, in his castle hall at Doe.

Mild are thy plains, O Donegal, and calm thy winding streams

that gently flow by hut and hall, beneath the bright sunbeams

but plain or stream or meadow green or flower upon the lea

were none more mild than Maolmuire's child, so sweet and fair was she.

Stout grow thine oak, O Donegal, and straight thine ashen tree

and swift and straight thy sons so tall, her country's pride to see.

But oak, nor ash, nor young men all, that spring from Irish soil,

were none more stout, swift, straight or strong, than the chief of Clan O'Boyle

He was the pride of Faugher side, from the hills of Ballymore,

for feats of strength, none equalled him from Fanad to Gaoth Dhobair

and he would go through the frost and snow on a merry christmas day

with a ringing cheer to hunt the deer from his haunts in dark Glenviegh

In a little boat, O'Boyle would float and a-fishin he would go

with hook and line to Lachagh stream which runs by castle Doe

where high up in the tower above his loved one lay confined;

and in its lofty battlements, in sorrow deep she pined

At the castle strand two boats lay manned to await the rising tide,

Maolmuire there in cheif command, right cowardly did hide

and when O'Boyle on his homeward course steered past the Bishop's isle

they were waylaid, and a prisoner made, of the fearless young O'Boyle.

They took him to the castle, in strongirons he was bound

and by Maolmuire was confined to a dungeon underground

but in a few days after, inside the graveyard wall,

four stalwart ruffians bore a bier, wrapped in a funeral pall

Then poor Eileen in her tower above beheld the mournful scene

in mute amaze she cast her gaze upon the graveyard green

all pale and death beside a mound of freshly risen soil,

the pall removed she there beheld the features of O'Boyle

Then with a shreik she madly leapt from her tower to the ground

where by her faithful waiting maid, her corpse in cold was found

In castle Doe, by the graveyard green, beneath the mould'ring soil

Maolmuire's daughter sleeps in death, with Turlough Og O'Boyle

Donegal, Ireland

Recorded by Triona ni Dhomniall, of Bothy Band fame,

who got it from her grandfather

copyright 2005 , Jim & Beth Boyle, All Rights Reserved
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