Chords
The Glen Of Aherlow

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My name is Patrick Sheehan, and my years are thirty-four
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Tipperary is my native place, not far from Galtymore
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I came of honest parents, but now they?re lying low
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Though many?s the pleasant days we spent in the Glen of Aherlow
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My father died  I closed his eyes outside the cabin door
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For the landlord and the sheriff too were there the day before
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And then my loving mother and my sisters three also
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Were forced to go with broken hearts from the Glen of Aherlow
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For three long months, in search of work, I wandered far and near
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I then went to the poorhouse to see my mother dear
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The news I heard near broke my heart, but still in all my woe
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I blessed the friends who made their graves in the Glen of Aherlow
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Bereft of home and kith and kin, with plenty all around
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I starved within my cabin, and slept upon the ground
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But cruel as my lot was, I never did hardship know
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?til I joined the English army, far away from Aherlow
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?Rouse up there?, cried the corporal, ?Ya lazy Irish hound
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Why don?t you hear the bugle, its call to arms to sound ??
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I found I had been dreaming of the days long, long ago
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And I woke upon Sebastopol, and not in Aherlow
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I tried to find my musket, how dark I thought the night
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O blessed God, it wasn?t dark, it was the broad daylight
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And when I found that I was blind, my tears began to flow
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And I longed for even a pauper?s grave in the Glen of Aherlow
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A poor neglected mendicant, I wander Dublin?s streets
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My nine months? pension it being out, I beg from all I meet
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As I joined my country?s tyrants, my face I can never show
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Amongst my dear old neighbors in the Glen of Aherlow.
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So Irish youths, dear countrymen, take heed in what I say
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For if you join the English ranks, you?ll surely rue the day
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And whenever you?re tempted, a-soldiering to go
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Remember poor blind Sheehan from the Glen of Aherlow