Sarsfield rode out, the Dutch to rout,
And to take and break their cannon,
To Mass went he at half-past three
And at four he crossed the Shannon.

Tyrconnell slept - in dreams his thoughts
Old fields of victory ran on,
And the chieftans of Thomond in Limerick's towers
Slept well by the banks of the Shannon.

He rode ten miles and he crossed the ford
And crouched in the wood and waited;
Till left and right marched in sight
That host which the true men hated.

"Charge!" Sarsfield cried, and the green hillside
As they charged replied in thunder,
They rode one plain, and the rode one slain (?)
And the enemy rout lay under.

He burned the gear the knaves held dear,
For his King he fought - not plunder,
With powder he crammed the guns and rammed
Their mouths the red soil under.

The spark flashed out, like a nation's shout,
The sound into heaven ascended,
The Hosts of the sky made to earth reply
And the thunder twain were blended.

Sarsfield rode out the Dutch to rout
And to take and break their cannon;
A century after Sarsfield's laughter
Was echoed from Duncannon.

Transcribed July 14, 2000 by T. M. Carlsen