The banks of the Moy, song

Michael McGonigle (James Eoghain), singing in English
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Lyrics

One night as I went on my rambles from Swinford to sweet Ballyvee
Sure I met a fair maid on my ramble and and her hame it was Mary McGee
And she sighed for the rights of her country Michael Davitt her true Irish boy
And is now a prisoner of Portland far from the lovely sweet banks of the Moy

Don't speak of the sweet sixty seven when brave men were true men you know
And the brave Peter Carney God rest him sure he died at Killarney also
He was drilled by my darling Mick Davitt in the valleys and glens of Fermoy
That's why he's a prisoner of Portland far from the lovely sweet banks of the Moy

Well I quickly approached this fair maiden asked her what was the cause of her woe
Or what was the cause of her suffering that forced her to leave her own home
And she sighed for the rights of her country Michael Davitt her true Irish boy
Who is now a prisoner of Portland far from the lovely sweet banks of the Moy

Well it’s now to conclude and to finish and I hope that the day will soon come
When those cruel landlords and bailiffs from the land of Saint Patrick must run
For we’ll  unfurl our green and gold banner and to Ireland we’ll raise them on high
And we will toast to that brave Michael Davitt on the lovely sweet banks of the Moy.