Turlough O’Boyle, song

Barry Gleeson, singing in English
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Wild are the hills o’ Donegal that frowning 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.

Fair are thy plains o’ Donegal and calm thy winding streams
That gently flows by hut and hall beneath the bright sunbeams
But plain or stream or meadow green or flower upon the lake
Were not more mild than Maolmuire’s child so sweet and fair was she.

Stout grows thy oak o’ Donegal and straight thy ashen tree
And swift and strong thy sons so tall thy country’s pride to see
But oak or ash or young men all that sprung from Irish soil
Were not more stout swift straight and straight than the chief of clan O’Boyle.

He was the pride of Faugher side near the hills of Ballymore
For feats of strength none equalled him from Fanad to Gweedore
And he would go through frost and snow on the merry Christmas day
With ringing cheers to hunt the deer from his haunts in dark Glenveagh.

In this little boat O’Boyle would float a fishing he would go
With hook and line to Lackagh stream that runs near Castle Doe
High in the castle tower his loved one lay confined
And on its lofty battlements in sorrow deep she pined.

At the castle sand two boats lay manned to wait the rising tide
Maolmuire there in chief command right cowardly did hide
And when O’Boyle his homeward course steered by the Bishop’s Isle
They were waylaid and a prisoner made of fearless young O’Boyle.

They brought him to the castle in strong irons he was bound
And by Maolmuire was confined in a dungeon under ground
But in a few days after inside the graveyard wall
Four stalwart ruffians bore a bier wrapped in a funeral pall.

Poor Aileen in her tower above beheld the mournful scene
In mute amaze she cast a gaze on the castle 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 shriek she madly leaped from the tower to the ground
Where by her faithful waiting maid her corpse it cold was found
And in Doe Castle graveyard green beneath the mouldering soil
Maolmuire’s daughter sleeps in death with Turlough óg O’Boyle.