"Ich vergesse nie ein Gesicht. Aber in Ihrem Fall mache ich gerne eine Ausnahme." Julius Henry "Groucho" Marx

The wind that shakes the barley...

I sat within the valley green
I sat me with my true love
My sad heart strove the two between
The old love and the new love
The old for her, the new that made me
Think on Ireland dearly
While soft the wind blew down the glen
And shook the golden barley

'Twas hard the woeful words to frame
To break the ties that bound us
But harder still to bear the shame
Of foreign chains around us
And so I said, "The mountain glen
I'll seek at morning early
And join the bold united men
While soft winds shake the barley"

While sad I kissed away her tears
My fond arms round her flinging
The foeman's shot burst on our ears
From out the wildwood ringing
A bullet pierced my true love's side
In life's young spring so early
And on my breast in blood she died
While soft winds shook the barley

But blood for blood without remorse
I've taken at Oulart Hollow
And laid my true love's clay cold corpse
Where I full soon may follow
As round her grave I wander drear
Noon, night and morning early
With breaking heart when e'er I hear
The wind that shakes the barley

Robert Dwyer Joyce (1830 - 1883) schrieb dieses Rebellenlied, das auch als Liebeslied diente, in Bezug auf eine Situation im irischen Befreiungskampf im Jahre 1798. Robert Dwyer Joyce, Professor für Englische Literatur an der Katholischen Universität in Dublin floh vor der britischen Repression in die Vereinigten Staaten. Später kehrte er nach Irland zurück und starb in Dublin.


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