Rebel Songbook LM
Mountains Of Pomeroy,The
Last House In Our Street
Last Night I Had A Happy Dream
Legion Of The Rearguard
Let Erin Remember
Let The People Sing
Lid Of My Granny's Bin
Limb Of The Law,The
Little Drummer Boy
London's Derry
Lonely Woods Of Upton
Long Held In Chains
Long Kesh
Long March To Derry,The
Loughall Ambush,The
Lough Sheelin Eviction
Mairéad Farrell
Man From God-Knows-Where,The
Man From Mullingar
Man From The Daily Mail,The
Martin Hurson
Masters Of War
McElwee's Farewell
McVerry's Men
Meet Me At The Pillar
Memory Of The Dead,The
Men Behind The Wire
Men Of Easter Week
Men Of '81
Men Of The West
Merry Ploughboy
Michael Divine
Michael Collins
Michael Dwyer
Minstrel Boy,The
Mountains Of Pomeroy,The
Murray And McDonald
My Father Once Said To Me
My Heart Is In Ireland
My Last Farewell
My Little Armalite
My Old Man
My Youngest Son Came Home Today

The Mountains Of Pomeroy

The morn was breaking bright and fair,
The lark sang in the sky,
Wheb the maid she bound her goIden hair,
With a blithe glance in her eye;
For, who beyond the gay green-wood,
Was a-waiting her with joy,
Oh, who but her gallant Renardine,
On the mountains of Pomeroy.

An outlawed man in a land forlorn,
He scorned to turn and fly,
But kept the cause of freedom safe
Up on the mountains high.

Full often in the dawning hour,
Full oft in twilight brown
He met the maid in the woodland bow'r,
Where the stream comes foaming down
For they were faithful in a love
No wars could e'er destroy.
No tyrant's law touched Renardine,
On the mountains of Pomeroy.

"Dear love, " she said, "l'm sore afraid,
For the foeman's force and you
They've tracked you in the lowland plain
And all the valley through.
My kinsmen frown when you are named
Your life they would destroy
'Beware,' they say, 'of Renardine,
On the mountains of Pomeroy."

"Fear not, fear not, sweetheart," he cried,
"Fear not the foe for me
No chain shall fall, whate'er betide,
On the arm that would be free!
Oh, leave your cruel kin and come,
When the lark is in the sky.
And it's with my gun I'll guard you,
On the mountains of Pomeroy."

The morn has come, she rose and fled
From her cruel kin and home;
And bright the wood, and rosy red,
And the dumbling torrent's foam.
But the mist came down and the tempest roared,
And did all around destroy;
And a pale, drowned bride met Renardine,
On the mountains of Pomeroy.