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Marc Gunn
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Old Fenian Gun
It hung above the kitchen fire. It's barrel long and brown
And one day with a boy's desire, I climbed and took it down
My father's eyes in anger flashed. He cried ''what have you done?!
I wish you'd left it where it was, That's my old Fenian gun''.
I fondled it with love and pride. I looked it o'er and o'er
I placed it on my shoulder And I marched across the floor
My father's anger softened And he shared my boyish fun
'Ah, well'' he said ''tis in your breed like that old Fenian gun'.
I remember '67 well when lads like you and me
All thought we'd strike another blow to set old Ireland free.
But broken were our golden hopes I was long months on the run
But it did good work for Ireland then that brown old Fenian gun.
I was down then in Killaluk t'was the hottest fight of all.
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And you can see he burned his arm there's a mark still on the ball
I hope the young lads growing now will hold the ground we won
And not disgrace the cause in which I held that Fenian gun
I placed it o'er the fire once more. I heard my father sigh
I knew his thoughts were turning back on days now long gone by
And then I vowed within my heart I'll be my father's son
And if ever Ireland wants my aid I'll hold the Fenian gun.
That's years ago I've grown a man And I've weathered many a gale
This last long year's been spent inside a gloomy English jail
I've done my part I'll do it still Until the fight is won
When Ireland's free she'll bless the men Who held the Fenian gun.
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