Tom Barry by Meda Ryan Read Free Book Online Page A

glory
    With martyrs who long since have died.
    But forget – not the boys at Kilmichael
    Those brave lads so firm and true,
    Who fought ’neath the green flag of Erin
    And conquered the red white and blue.
    The cold winter’s morning was dawning
    O’er mountain and valley and hill;
    And the winds of November were wailing
    Through woodland and fast rippling rill.
    With a sharp ringing blast of the whistle
    That rang out in the clear morning air;
    The column rose up from their slumber
    As quite as a fox from his layer.
    With Barry their gallant commander
    Through a country side slumbering still;
    By Kenneigh’s round tower famed in story
    They marched over moorland and hill.
    The rugged cliffs now rose before them
    And onward they moved very light;
    Then into their ambush crept slowly
    Awaiting their glorious fight.
    The sun o’er Mount Owen was descending
    â€™Twas the eve of a cold winter’s day;
    When the Tans we were wearily waiting
    Drove into the spot where we lay.
    Then over the hills rang the echo
    Of the peal of the rifle and gun;
    And the fire of their lorries gave tidings
    That Barry’s famed column had won.
    As the storm of battle was raging
    And the bullets sprayed rapidly round;
    Three shots from the enemy’s muzzles
    Dropped our brave gallant three to the ground.
    They died as they lived for their country
    No cowards were they for her cause;
    Their blood they were willing to shed
    â€™Gainst England’s cruel hellish laws.
    When the smoke of the battle had ended
    And the enemy’s guns were secure;
    We set out o’er the hills and the valleys
    To the far distant camp at Granure.
    The men in their triumph marched onward
    And a prayer for their heroes they said;
    A line in that march was now vacant
    O’Sullivan, McCarthy and Deasy were dead.
    Three Volleys at Castletown-Kenneigh
    Gave a last proud salute to the dead;
    As three heroes were buried at midnight
    By the light of the stars over-head.
    O’Sullivan, Deasy, McCarthy,
    Their glorious names will live on;
    â€™Till the goal of their triumph is reached
    And the ultimate victory is won.
    Their banners were ours before sunset
    And high over Dunmanway town;
    Our battle-soaked colours were waving
    O’er the foes of our land that were down.
    The cool winter’s evening was casting
    Its shadows o’er bogland and moor;
    As our men marched wearily southwards
    Through a countryside rough and obscure.
    Then onward by Manch and Kilkaskin
    Around by O’Hurley’s great hold;
    The Third Brigade Column kept moving
    Through a night wet and bitterly cold.
    Then we gave three long cheers for old Ireland
    And prayed for our comrades now dead;
    Picked up our guns and our sabres
    And started our long march ahead.
    But now that the battle is over
    And the smoke of the bombshell is passed;
    Again we march forward to victory
    And fight down the foe to the last.
    For we’ll in the end be triumphant
    With our tricoloured banner, unrolled;
    With the names of Tom Barry’s Flying Column
    Inscribed in bright letters of gold.
    John F Hourihane wrote the above ballad, which originally contained three verses, after the famous battle of Kilmichael in November 1920. Hourihane of Grilough, Ballinacarriga, Ballineen, a member of C Company, Third Bat., Third Cork Brigade, who later emigrated to Boston Massachusetts, USA. In order to perpetuate and preserve the above event, Mr Hourihane has lately completed the full version as it appears here. In doing so he has made it that generations yet unborn, will have a more vivid understanding and better knowledge of the famous episode and its participants – Tom Barry
    THE MEN OF BARRY’S COLUMN
    When British Terror failed to win
    Allegiance from our people then,
    The Black and Tans they were brought in,
    They thought they’d teach us manners;
    But instead of teaching they were taught
    A lesson which they dearly bought,
    For when Kilmichael’s day was