~ THE RISING OF THE MOON ~ sung by Peter, Paul & Mary.

"The "Rising Of The Moon" is an Irish ballad recounting a battle between the "United Irishmen" and the "British Army" during the rebellion of 1798 when the Irish fought against the British invasion. The ballad`s singer is told "the pikes must be together at the rising of the moon" to engage in rebellion. The Irish Pikemen gather, but are defeated. Dispite the lost, the listener is told that then are those that "will follow in their footsteps" to again revolt.
The air of hope and optimism associated with the ultimately doomed rebellion was intended to provide inspiration for rebels preparing to take to the field in another ill-fated venture, the battle of 1867. Again the British are successful in taking Dublin.
The song remains popular and the tune widely recognized in Ireland today, as it is taught in schools, played regularly at sporting events and covered by a wide variety of musicians including Peter, Paul and Mary."
"The ballad has been in circulation since 1865." One can almost call this ballad "the history of Ireland in song."

THE RISING OF THE MOON

"Oh! then tell me Shawn O`Ferrell, Tell me why you hurry so?"
"Hush my boy, hush and listen", And his eyes were all a-glow.
"I bear orders from the captain, Get you ready quick and soon.
For the pikes must be together At the risin` of the moon".

"Oh! then tell me Shawn O`Ferrall, Where the gatherin` is to be?"
"In the old spot by the river, Right well known to you and me.
One word more---- for signal token Whistle up the marchin` tune,
With your pike upon your shoulder, By the risin` of the moon".

Out from many a mudwall cabin Eyes where watching thro` that night,
Many a manly chest was throbbing For the blessed warning light.
Murmurs passed along the valleys Like the banshee`s lonely croon,
And a thousand blades were flashing At the risin` of the moon.

There besides the singing river That dark mass of men was seen,
Far above the shinning weapons Hung their own beloved green.
"Death to ev`ry foe and traitor! Foward! strike the marchin` tune,
And hurrah, my boys, for freedom! 'T is the risin`of the moon."

Well they fought for poor old Ireland, And bitter was their fate
(Oh! what glorious pride and sorrow Fill the name of Ninety-Eight).
Yet, thank God while hearts are beating Each man bears a burning wound,
We will follow in their footsteps, At the risin` of the moon!

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