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I sat within a valley green;
I sat me with my true love.
My heartie strove the two 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 glade
And shook the golden barley.
T'was 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!"
While soft the wind blew down the glade
And shook the golden barley.
T'was sad I kissed away her tears,
My fond arms 'round her flinging.
The foeman's 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!
But blood for blood without remorse,
I've ta'en at Oulart Hollow.
I've lain my true love's clay-cold corpse
Where I for soon must follow;
Around her grave I've wandered drear,
Noon, night and morning early,
With breaking heart whene'er I hear
The wind that shakes the barley!
The wind that shakes the barley!
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