Push for PORTER

izquierdaShanagoldenderecha

Sean McCarthy


The cold winds from the mountains are calling soft to me,
The smell of scented heather brings bitter memories:
A wild and lonely eagle up in the summer sky,
Flies high o'er Shanagolden, where my young Willie lies.


Do you remember Willie, we walked the moonlit road
I held you in my arms, love, I would never let you go.
Our hands they were entwined, my love, all in the pale moonlight,
By the fields of Shanagolden on a lonely winter's night.


Then came the call to arms, love, the hills they were aflame.
Down from the silent mountains, the Saxon strangers came.
I held you in my arms then, my young heart wild with fear,
In the fields of Shanagolden, in the springtime of the year.


You fought them, darling Willie, all through the summer days.
I heard the rifles firing in the mountains far away
I held you in my arms love, and your blood ran free and bright,
And you died in Shanagolden, on a lonely winter's night.


But that was long ago, my love, and our son grows fine and tall;
The hills they are at peace again: the Saxon strangers gone.
There's roses growing on your grave, my love, there's an eagle in the sky ,
Flying high o'er Shanagolden, where my young Willie lies.



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