Fineen the Rover

An old castle towers o'er the billows
That thunder by Cleena's green land,
And there dwelt as gallant a rover
As ever grasped hilt in the hand ;
Eight stately towers of the waters
Lie anchored in Baltimore Bay,
And over their twenty score sailors,
O who but that Rover holds sway ?
Then ho for Fineen the Rover !
Fineen O'Driscoll the free ;
Straight as the mast of his galley,
And wild as a wave of the sea !

The Saxons of Cork and Moyallo,
They harried his lands with their powers ;
He gave them a taste of his cannon,
And drove them like wolves from his towers ;
The men of Clan London brought over
Their strong fleet to make him a slave ;
They met him by Mizen's wild headland,
And the sharks gnawed their bones 'neath the wave.
Then ho for Fineen the Rover !
Fineen O'Driscoll the free ;
With step like the red stag of Beara,
And voice like the bold-sounding sea !

Long time in that old battered castle,
Or out on the waves with his clan,
He feasted and ventured and conquered,
But ne'er struck his colours to man.
In a fight 'gainst the foes of his country
He died as a brave man should die,
And he sleeps 'neath the waters of Cleena,
Where the waves sing his caoine to the sky.
Then ho for Fineen the Rover !
Fineen O'Driscoll the free ;
With eye like the osprey's at morning,
And smile like the sun on the sea !