The Wolfe Tones - Bodenstown Churchyard lyrics
[The Wolfe Tones - Bodenstown Churchyard lyrics]
In Bodenstown churchyard there is
A green grave
And wildly around it the winter winds rave
Smaller shelter I ween are
The ruined walls there
When the storm sweeps down on
The plains of Kildare
Once I stood on that spot
It lies over Wolfe Tone
And thought how he perished in prison alone
His friends unavenged and his country unfreed
"Oh, bitter" I said
"is the patriot's mead"
For in him the heart of a woman combined
With a heroic spirit and a governing mind
A martyr for Ireland, his grave has no stone
His name seldom named
And his virtues unknown
I was woke from my dream
By the voices and tread
Of a band who came into the home of the dead
They carried no corpse
And they carried no stone
And they stopped when they came to
The grave of Wolfe Tone
My heart overflowed as I grasped his old hand
I blessed him and blessed every
One of his band:
"Sweet, sweet tis to find that
Such faith can remain
In the cause and the man
So long vanquished and slain"
In Bodenstown churchyard there is
A green grave
And freely around it let winter winds rave
Far better they suit him
The ruin and the gloom
Till Ireland, a nation, can build him a tomb
A green grave
And wildly around it the winter winds rave
Smaller shelter I ween are
The ruined walls there
When the storm sweeps down on
The plains of Kildare
Once I stood on that spot
It lies over Wolfe Tone
And thought how he perished in prison alone
His friends unavenged and his country unfreed
"Oh, bitter" I said
"is the patriot's mead"
For in him the heart of a woman combined
With a heroic spirit and a governing mind
A martyr for Ireland, his grave has no stone
His name seldom named
And his virtues unknown
I was woke from my dream
By the voices and tread
Of a band who came into the home of the dead
They carried no corpse
And they carried no stone
And they stopped when they came to
The grave of Wolfe Tone
My heart overflowed as I grasped his old hand
I blessed him and blessed every
One of his band:
"Sweet, sweet tis to find that
Such faith can remain
In the cause and the man
So long vanquished and slain"
In Bodenstown churchyard there is
A green grave
And freely around it let winter winds rave
Far better they suit him
The ruin and the gloom
Till Ireland, a nation, can build him a tomb