Shanagolden

The cold winds from the mountains are calling soft to me,
The smell of scented heather brings bitter memories:
A wild and lonely eagle up in the summer sky,
Flies high o’er Shanagolden, where my love Willie lies.
I met him in the winter time when snow was on the ground
The Irish hills were peaceful and love was all around.
Scarcely twenty years old, a young man in his prime.
We were married, darling Willie by the eve of Christmas time.
Do you remember Willie, we walked the moonlit road
I held you in my arms, love, I would never let you go.
Our hands they were entwined, my love, all in the pale moonlight,
By the fields of Shanagolden on a lonely winter’s night.
Then came the call to arms, love, the heather was aflame.
Down from the silent mountains, the Saxon strangers came.
I held you in my arms then, my young heart wild with fear,
In the fields by Shanagolden, in the springtime of the year.
You fought them, darling Willie, all through the summer days.
I heard the rifles firing in the mountains far away
I held you in my arms then, your blood ran free and bright,
And you died in Shanagolden, on a lonely summer’s night.
But that was long ago, love, now our son grows fine and tall;
The hills they are at peace again: the Saxon strangers gone.
Flying high o’er Shanagolden, where my love Willie lies.