The Wind That Shakes the Barley
written by Robert Dwyer Joyce

I sat within a valley green 
I sat me with my true love 
My sad heart strove to choose between 
The old love and the new love 
The old for her, the new that made 
Me think on Ireland dearly 
While soft the wind blew down the glen 
And shook the golden barley 
 
Twas hard the woeful words to frame 
To break the ties that bound us 
But harder still to bear the shame 
Of foreign chains around us 
And so I said, "The mountain glen 
I'll seek at morning early 
And join the bold United Men" 
While soft winds shake the barley 
 
While sad I kissed away her tears 
My fond arms 'round her flinging 
A full man shot burst on our ears 
From out the wildwood ringing 
A bullet pierced my true love's side 
In life's young spring so early 
And on my breast in blood she died 
While soft winds shook the barley 
 
I bore her to some mountain stream 
And many's the summer blossom 
I placed with branches soft and green 
About her gore-stained bosom 
I wept and kissed her clay-cold corpse 
Then rushed o'er vale and valley 
My vengeance on the foe to wreak 
While soft winds shook the barley 
 
But blood for blood without remorse 
I've taken at Oulart Hollow 
And laid my true love's clay-cold corpse 
Where I full soon may follow 
As 'round her grave I wander drear 
Noon, night and morning early 
With breaking heart when e'er I hear 
The wind that shakes the barley