Push for PORTER

izquierdaTurlough Óg O'Boylederecha

Wild are thy hills, O Donegal, that frowning, darkly rise
As if to greet the mist that falls upon them from the skies
Dark, dark thy hills, and darker still thy mountain torrents flow
But none so dark as Maolmuire's heart in his castle hall at Doe

Fair are thy plains, O Donegal, and calm thy winding streams
That gently flow by hut and hall beneath the bright sunbeams
But plain or stream or meadow green or flower upon the lea
Were not more mild than Maolmuire's child, so sweet and fair was she

Stout grow thy oak, O Donegal, and straight thy ashen tree
And swift and straight thy sons so tall, her country's pride to see
But oak or ash or young men all that spring from Irish soil
Were not more stout, swift, straight and strong than the chief of Clan O'Boyle

He was the pride of Faugher side from the hills of Ballymore
For feats of strength, none equalled him from Fanad to Gaoth Dobhair
And he would go through the frost and snow on a merry Christmas Day
With ringing cheer to hunt the deer from his haunts in dark Glenveagh

In his little boat O'Boyle would float, a-fishing he would go
With hook and line to Lackagh stream that runs by castle Doe
High in the castle tower his loved one lay confined
And on it's lofty battlements in sorrow deep she pined

At the castle strand two boats lay manned to wait the rising tide
Maolmuire there in chief command right cowardly did hide
And when O'Boyle his homeward course steered by the Bishop's Isle
They were waylaid and a prisoner made of fearless young O'Boyle

They brought him to the castle, in strong irons he was bound
And by Maolmuire was confined to a dungeon underground
But in a few days after inside the graveyard wall
Four stalwart ruffians bore a bier wrapped in a funeral pall

Poor Aileen in her tower above beheld the mournful scene
In mute amaze she cast a gaze upon the graveyard green
All pale and death beside a mound of freshly risen soil
The pall removed, she there beheld the features of O'Boyle

Then with a shriek, she madly leapt from the tower to the ground
Where by her faithful waiting maid her corpse in cold was found
And in Doe castle graveyard green beneath the moldering soil
Maolmuire's daughter sleeps in death with Turlough Óg O'Boyle