The Blacksmith of Limerick

He grasped his ponderous hammer, he could not stand it more,
To hear the bombshells bursting, and the thundering battle's roar ;
He said — "The breach they're mounting, the Dutchman's murdering crew —
I'll try my hammer on their heads and see what that can do!

" Now, swarthy Ned and Moran, make up that iron well ;
'Tis Sarsfield's horse that wants the shoes, so mind not shot nor shell ; "
"Ah sure," cried both, "the horse can wait — for Sarsfield's on the wall,
And where you go we'll follow, with you to stand or fall ! "
The blacksmith raised his hammer, and rushed into the street,
His 'prentice boys behind him, the ruthless foe to meet —
High on the breach of Limerick,, with dauntless hearts they stood,
Where the bombshells burst, and shot fell thick, and redly ran the blood.

"Now, look you, brown-haired Moran, and mark you,
swarthy Ned,
This day we'll prove the thickness of many a Dutchman's head !
Hurrah ! upon their bloody path they're mounting gallantly ;
And now, the first that tops the breach, leave him to this and me ! "
The first that gained the rampart, he was a captain brave !
A captain of the grenadiers, with blood-stained dirk and glaive ;
He pointed and he parried, but it was all in vain,
For fast through skull and helmet the hammer found his brain !

The next that topped the rampart, he was a colonel bold,
Bright through the murk of battle his helmet flashed with gold—
" Gold is no match for iron ! " the doughty blacksmith said,
A.s with that ponderous hammer he cracked his foeman's head !

" Hurrah for gallant Limerick !" black Ned and Moran cried,
As on the Dutchmen's leaden heads their hammers well they plied ;
A bombshell burst between them — one fell without a groan,
One leaped into the lurid air, and down the breach was thrown !

" Brave smith ! brave smith ! " cried Sarsfield, " beware the
treacherous mine —
Brave smith ! brave smith ! fall backward, or surely death is thine ! "
The smith sprang up the rampart and leaped the bloodstained wall,
As high into the shuddering air went foemen, breach, and all!

Up like a red volcano they thundered wild and high,
Spear, gun, and shattered standard, and foemen through the sky;
And dark and bloody was the shower that round the blacksmith fell —
He thought upon his 'prentice boys, they were avenged well !

On foemen and defenders a silence gathered down,
'Twas broken by a triumph-shout that shook the ancient town ;
As out its heroes sallied, and bravely charged and slew,
And taught King William and his men what Irish hearts can do !

Down rushed the swarthy blacksmith unto the river side,
He hammered on the foe's pontoon, to sink it in the tide ;
The timber it was tough and strong, it took no crack or strain —
" Mavrone 'twon't break," the blacksmith roared, " I'll try their heads again ! "
The blacksmith sought his smithy, and blew his bellows strong,
He shod the steed of Sarsfield, but o'er it sang no song :
" Ochon ! my boys are dead," he cried ; " their loss I'll long deplore,
But comfort's in my heart, their graves are red with foreign gore ! "