Rebel Songbook A-Bog
After Aughrim's Great Disaster
A Breath of Peace
A Nation Once Again
A Prisoner's Christmas
A Rebel Song
A Song of the Loyal Irish
Admiral William Brown
After Aughrim's Great Disaster
Aiden McAnespie
All The Little Children
Anthony Gough
Arbour Hill
Armagh Sniper,The
Armagh Women,The
Armoured Car,The
Ashtown Road
Auf Wiedersehen,Crossmaglen
Auld Triangle,The
Bachelor's Walk
Back Home In Derry
Ballad Of Claudy
Banna Strand
Bard Of Armagh,The
Barry's Column
Barrymore Tithe Victory,The
Battle Eve Of The Brigade
Battle Of Granard,The
Battle Of Stormont,The
Belfast Brigade
Big Fellah,The
Big John Davey
Billy Reid
Birmingham Six
Black And Tan Gun,The
Black Watch,The
Blarismoor Tragedy,The
Blood All On The Grass
Blood-Stained Bandage
Bobby Sands
Bobby Sands From Belfast
Bobby Sands MP
Bobby Sands, Ballad Of
Bodenstown Churchyard
Bogside Volunteers

After Aughrim's Great Disaster
John O'Dwyer

After Aughrim's great disaster,
When our foe in sooth was master,
In was you that first plunged in and swam
The Shannon's boiling flood.
And through Slieve Bloom's dark passes
You led your gallowglasses,
Although the hungry Saxon wolves
Were howling for our blood.
And as we crossed Tipperary,
We rieved the clan O'Leary
And drove a creaght before us,
As our horsemen southward came.
With our spears and swords we gored them,
As through flood and flight we bore them,
Still Seaghan O'Duibhir an Gleanna
We're worsted in the game

Long, long we kept the hill-side,
Our couch hard by the rill-side,
The sturdy knotted oaken boughs
Our curtain overhead.
The summer blaze we laughed at,
The winter snow we scoffed at;
And trusted to our long steel swords
To win us daily bread.
Till the Dutchman's troops came round us,
In fire and steel they bound us.
They blazed the woods and mountains
Till the very clouds were flame.
Yet our sharpened swords cut through them,
To their very heart we hewed them,
But Seaghan O'Duibhir an Gleanna
We're worsted in the game.

Here's a health to your and my King
The sovereign of our liking
And to Sarsfield, underneath whose flag
We'll cast once more a chance.
For the morning's dawn will wing us
Across the seas and bring us
To take our stand and wield a brand
Among the sons of France.
And though we part in sorrow
Still Seaghan O'Duibhir, a chara,
Our prayer is 'God save Ireland
And pour blessings on her name.'
May her sons be true when needed,
May they never fail as we did,
For Seaghan O'Duibhir an Gleanna
We're worsted in the game.