An Irish Ballad--The Ballad of Brian Boru (1910)
From Sydney Partrige (Mrs. Hal Stone), author of "Rocky Section" and other Australian stories:--"I am sending a copy of a quaint Irish ballad, one of a large collection made by a great-uncle
of mine in Cashel. It was sent out to my mother between twenty and thirty years ago, and as
Page Twenty-One has been blossoming out most picturesquely into ballads lately, I thought this
might be of interest. have never seen it in print. My mother used to sing it to an old crooning
wail infinitely fascinating." Och, Brian Boru, boys,
Was good and true, boys,
But "Wirrastrue!" boys
He had to sing.
He wint a-wheeling,
He tuk a-reeling,
And lost his feeling,
The poor ould King. 'Twas on Ciontarf's plains, boys,
He met the Dane, boys,
Just come from Spain, boys,
Wid minny, min
"I'll tear their eyes out,"
The ould King cries out,
His wife she sighs out ;
"Come back agin !" Says he, "My jewel,
Go get some fuel
And make some gruel
Till I eat my fill."
"I will, says, she, "love,
But come back to me, love.
After the spree, love."
Says he, "I will ! " He wint to fight, boys,
In great delight, boys.
But soon-his might, boys,
Was nearly spint;
The Dane he fled, boys,
The King he bled, boys,
They brought him dead, boys,
Into his tint. Thin the Queen was sad, boys,
And wint right mad, boys,
And swore if she had, boys,
Every mother's sowl
Of them ugly Danes, boys,
She'd smash their brains, boys,
And over the plains, boys,
Their heads-she'd rowl. Notes
From the NSW Newspaper the Worker 27 Oct 1910 p. 21.