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Simply put, my favourite ballad of all time.
From the Wolfe Tones album 'Irish to the
Core'.
In 1688 the death of his elder brother, who
had no son, put him in possession of the
family estate, which in those troubled times
can have been of small advantage to him. When
the king brought over a few Irish soldiers to
coerce the English, Sarsfield came in command
of them. As the king was deserted by his army
there was no fighting, but Sarsfield had a
brush with some of the Scottish soldiers in
the service of the William III at Wincanton.
When King James disbanded his army and fled
to France, Sarsfield accompanied him. In 1689
he returned to Ireland with the king. During
the earlier part of the Williamite war in
Ireland he did good service by securing
Connacht for the Jacobites. The king, who is
said to have described him as a brave fellow
who had no head, promoted him to the rank of
brigadier, and then to major-general with
some reluctance.
It was not until after the battle of the
Boyne (1 July 1690), and during the siege of
Limerick (1690), that Sarsfield became
prominent as a leader. His capture of a
convoy of military stores and artillery at
Ballyneety, near Pallasgreen between Limerick
and Tipperary, in a raid apparently guided by
a rapparee known as "Galloping O'Hogan",
delayed the siege of the town till the winter
rains forced the English to retire.
This achievement made him the popular hero of
the war with the Irish. His generosity, his
courage and his commanding height, had
already commended him to the affection of the
Irish. When the cause of King James was
ruined in Ireland, Sarsfield arranged the
Treaty of Limerick and sailed to France on 22
December 1691, with many of his countrymen
who entered the French service in what is
known as the Flight of the Wild Geese.
The Wolfe Tones - Jackets Green
When I was a maiden fair and young
On the pleasant banks of the Lee
No bird that in the greenwood sung
Was half so blithe and free
My heart near leapt with flying feet
No love sang me her Queen
Till down the glen rode Sarsfield's men
And they wore the Jackets Green
No hoarded wealth did my love own
Save the good sword that he bore
But I loved him for his self alone
And the colours bright he wore
For had he come in England's red
To make me England's Queen
I'd rove the high green hills instead
For the sake of Irish Green
When Sarsfield sailed away I wept
I heard the wild ochone
I felt then dead like the men who slept
'Neath the fields of Garryowen
While Ireland held my Donal blessed
No wild sea rolled between
Till I would fold him to my breast
All robed in Irish Green
I saw the Shannon's purple tide
Roll by the Irish town
As I stood in the breach by Donal's side
When England's flag went down
And now it glows as it seeks the skies
Like a blood-red curse between
I weep, but 'tis not the women's sighs
That will raise the Irish Green
Oh Ireland, sad's thy lonely soul
And loud beats the winter seas
But sad and high the wild waves roll
From hearts that break for thee
Yet grief shall come to our heartless foes
Their thrones in the dust be seen
But Irish maids love none but those
Who wear the Jackets Green
Tags : wolfe tones patrick sarsfield limerick ireland lucan irish freedom |
