MARY LE MORE.
Tune,———Poor Exile of Erin.
———▼oooo▲———
PART I.
OH! Soldiers of England, your mercileſs doings
Long, long may the children of Ireland deplore;
Sad ſinks my ſoul when I view the black ruins,
Where once ſtood the cabin of Mary le More.
Her father God reſt him lov'd Ireland moſt dearly!
All its wrongs, all its ſuffrings he felt moſt ſeverely,
But gone is the father of Mary le More!
One cold winter's eve, as poor Dermot was muſing,
Hoarie curies alarm'd him,and craſh went his door!
The fierce ſoldiers enter'd & ſtraight 'gan abuſing
The brave, but mild father of Mary le More!
To their ſcoffs he replied not—with blows they assail'd him—
Indignant he roſe, and his caution now fail'd him
He return’d their vile blows—now all Munſte bewails him—
For ſtab'd was the father of Mary le More.
The childrens' wild ſcreams, and the mother's diſtraction,
