The Jackets Green - The Wolfe Tones

When I was a maiden fair and young

On the pleasant banks of the Lee

No bird that in the greenwood sung

Was half so blithe and free

My heart near leapt with flying feet

No love sang me her Queen

Till down the glen rode Sarsfield’s men

And they wore the Jackets Green

No hoarded wealth did my love own

Save the good sword that he bore

But I loved him for his self alone

And the colours bright he wore

For had he come in England’s red

To make me England’s Queen

I’d rove the high green hills instead

For the sake of Irish Green

When Sarsfield sailed away I wept

I heard the wild ochone

I felt then dead like the men who slept

'Neath the fields of Garryowen

While Ireland held my Donal blessed

No wild sea rolled between

Till I would fold him to my breast

All robed in Irish Green

I saw the Shannon’s purple tide

Roll by the Irish town

As I stood in the breach by Donal’s side

When England’s flag went down

And now it glows as it seeks the skies

Like a blood-red curse between

I weep, but 'tis not the women’s sighs

That will raise the Irish Green

Oh Ireland, sad’s thy lonely soul

And loud beats the winter seas

But sad and high the wild waves roll

From hearts that break for thee

Yet grief shall come to our heartless foes

Their thrones in the dust be seen

But Irish maids love none but those

Who wear the Jackets Green