The Rising Of The Moon

Ah then tell me Shawn O'Farrell, tell me why you hurry so.
Hush my boy now hush and listen, and his eyes were all aglow.
I bear orders from the Captain, get ye ready quick and soon
For the pikes must be together, at the rising of the moon.
Ah then tell me Shawn O'Farrell where the gatherin' is to be
In the old spot by the river right well known by you and me.
One word more, a signal token, whistle of the Marchin' Tune
With your pike upon your shoulder at the rising of the moon.
There beside the singing river that dark mass of men were seen
Far above their shining weapons on their own immortal ring.
Death to every fallen traitor forward strike the marchin' tune
And hurrah my boys, for freedom! Tis the rising of the moon.
How well they fought for poor old Ireland, and full bitter, was their fate
Oh what glorious pride and sorrow fills the name of ninety-eight.
Yet thank God while hearts are beating, each man bears a burning wound
We will follow in their footsteps, at the rising of the moon.