Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Composite volume > Ballad poetry of Ireland

170 BALLAD POETEY
THE FATE OF THE FORTIES.
BY HENRY GRATTAN CURBAN.
An humble peasant's fate I sing ; let wealth and power
disdain
To praise a poor man's faithfulness, or of his wrongs
complain —
But withered be my heart and tongue, when I refuse a
strain
To men the victims of the faith that broke a nation's
chain.
Hurrah for the valiant Forties *-the men of the olden
time.
We all remember, where the stream so gently turns aside
To spare yon hawthorn, grateful for its crown of summer
pride.
How snug the sheltered cabin stood, and rain and storm
defied,
Sliielding a man whose humble trust adored the hand that
tried.
A poor, but pious man he was — that man of the olden
time.
With ruddy cheeks around his hearth six laughing chil-
dren stood.
And kindly turned that old man's eye on his own flesh
and blood.
His daily labour won for them a home, and clothes, and
food —
And, as they broke their daily bread, he taught them
Heaven was good,
And bade them eat in thankfulness — good man of the
olden time !
* The Forties, I e. the Forty-shilling Freehoiaers.