a last battle

The sun upon the meadow rose
with fourteen at the keep
Our arrows spent, Our armor worn
We rode to face the dawn

King Randal's men stood twenty leagues
From Cornwell to the seas
For three straight days our swords did clash
That Ireland be free

The sons of Cusack spilled their blood
Upon those verdant plains
And for every tear a mother wept
We recalled a fallen name

The drums of Randal's army pound
Upon the treasured gates of home
We look to God but fear our doom
For fourteen stand alone

The bagpipes sing a tale of war
Our bloodied swords all rise
Fourteen men, the final dawn
For our brothers who have died

We charge into the mists of hell
That stand two hundred strong
Our swords greet death neath Irish skies
Fourteen men who stood alone

M'lady weeps now o'er the graves
Where the sons of Cusack lie
For fourteen rode against the tide
That Ireland be free