The Tourmakeady Ambush by William O’Malley

You Volunteers of Ireland, come listen to my theme,

I’ll describe a famous battle and some heroes I will name;

It took place on Partry hillside all on the third of May,

When a little group of Erin’s youth great valor did display.

’Twas on a summer morning two lorries did appear,

They raced along so swift and strong that all might shake with fear;

I stood on a brae not far away across from Derryvore,

I heard the Huns as all their guns were loosed upon our shore.

By Srah they came like fire and flame where from came smoke and shot,

Those drunken wretches laughed and smiled when they saw the peasant lot;

Who like the deer would fly with fear across the dykes and bogs,

Until they found some hallowed ground or oftentimes a fog.

Those cars did roar along the shore of beautiful Lough Mask,

Those villains swore they would do more to finish their gruesome task;

When lo! behold! at Gorteenmore where all looked calm and solemn,

A shot rang forth which changed their sport from the famous flying column.

At Drimbawn Wood Maguire stood who made many a firm stand,

And with him Paddy Gibbons who came second in command;

There stood the brave O’Brien who now mingles with the blessed,

He was not slow his aid to show when his foreman’s wound he dressed.

It was now to hide on the mountainside those heroes bent their way,

And as they trod across the bog their laughter it was gay;

Until they came to a sparkling stream on the slopes of Tóin na Sáil’,

Where they did rest to quench their thirst and refresh them one and all.

Now to disperse they did converse the English troops evade,

How well they knew they’d be soon in view over every hill and glade;

The orders made they soon obeyed and as they marched along,

Those stalwart men through hill and glen did chant a soldier’s song.

But now alas! It came to pass, I’m sorry to relate,

A section of that gallant band met with a cruel fate;

Their leaders brave were not to blame – in search of some abode,

Some food to find from neighbor’s kind drew nigh on Tór na Bhfod.

The machine gun fire swept the mire till evening came on,

When Ibberson gave orders to surround them everyone;

But that villain’s star did not go far when he got a double pill,

From the mighty bold Mick Durkin who was scouting on the hill.

Twas then, mavrone!, the wild ochone was heard along the vale,

For each afflicted mother learned the sad and mournful tale;

Their fervent prayer did soar aloft to the Virgin pure on high,

God did grant them victory when death they thought was nigh.

Now to conclude I will allude the reason for my song,

I thought I would if but I could their memory prolong;

These noble sons made England’s sons to feel and understand,

That rebel steel would make them reel on the hills of holy Ireland