The Blackbird of Sweet Avondale - The Wolfe Tones

In the fair bay of Dublin, while carelessly strolling

I sat myself down near a clear crystal stream

Reclined on the beach, in wild accents deploring

In sorrow condoling, I heard a fair maid

Her hopes changed to mourning, that once were so glorious

I stood in amazement to hear her sad tale

Her heartstrings were torn in wild accents so glorious

Saying, «Where is my blackbird of sweet Avondale?»

«In the fair counties Kerry, true Cork, and Tipperary

The rights of Old Ireland, my blackbird did sing

But woe to the hour, with the dark lights in Derry

When he from my arms to Dublin took way»

«Oh heaven, give ear to my supplication

And strengthen the bold songs of old Granuaile

And promise that my country will soon be a nation

And bring back my blackbird of sweet Avondale»

«Oh, Erin, my country, awake from your slumbers

And bring back my blackbird, so dear unto me

And let everyone know, by the strength of your numbers

That we, as a nation, would like to be free»