WitH THE SToRY TELLERS

To raise a powerful army
To vanquish all our foes,
And drive them from this province,
Is what I now propose.
To teach its lawless people
That forces we could bring,
Enough to crush forever
This self-styled Leinster king.”
So from the Boyne to Barrow’s mouth
The word was passed around;
In Dublin to assemble,
The fittest rallying ground;
From its large population,
And from its English tone;
Ten thousand men they could raise in
That borough town alone.
The summons it was answered,
And troops kept pouring in;
Until to Lord Lancaster,
It seemed time to begin
War on McMurrough’s clansmen,
In Wicklow’s deep defiles;
On the O’Tooles, O’Byrnes and
The Kavanaghs and Doyles.

These warlike preparations
Did not escape Prince Art,
Full well he knew, the Saxon crew
Against him soon, would start.

So trusty scouts at once he sent
All Wicklow to patrol,
To urge the clans to come with speed
As far as Glennasmole;
If they would save their hearths and homes
From England’s blighting hand;
Aye, save their wives and children,
Their houses and their land.

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