A song about an ancestor of mine
In 1798, Ireland attempted to throw of its British yoke under the leadership of Theobald Wolfe Tone, a Protestant.
Another Protestant- my ancestor, Henry Joy McCracken- stepped in at the last moment and took over as the leader of Tone's rebellion in Ulster. A charasmatic leader, McCracken is a romantic figure in Irish history. His men nearly captured the city of Antrim, only to be repulsed when the Redcoats were unexpectedly reinforced.
McCracken attempted to escape to America, but was betrayed and captured. The British offered him his life if he would name the man who was originally supposed to lead the Ulster rebellion, but he refused and went heroically to the gallows, comforted in his last moments by his sister, Mary Ann- a social reformer and philanthropist who made her own mark on Irish history. She also raised my ancestor, Henry Joy's illegitimate daughter Maria.
This coming Thursday, July 17, will be the 210th annivesary of McCracken's execution in the Corn Market in Belfast. I've mentioned a folk song about him before in this blog. Well, today- much to my gratification- I found not one but two versions of that song on YouTube! Here is one of them:
The words:
An Ulster man I am proud to be,
From the Antrim glens I come.
Although I labour by the sea,
I have followed flag and drum.
I have heard the martial tramp of men;
I've seen them fight and die.
Ah! lads I well remember when
I followed Henry Joy.
I pulled my boat in from the sea,
I hid my sails away.
I hung my nets upon a tree
And scanned the moonlit bay.
The boys were out, the redcoats too,
I bade my wife good-bye,
And then beneath the greenwood glade
I followed Henry Joy.
Alas, for Ireland's cause we fought
For home and sire we bled.
Though our arms were few, our hearts beat true
And five to one lay dead.
And many a lassie missed her lad
And mother mourned her boy,
For youth was strong in the dashing throng
That followed Henry Joy.
In Belfast town they built a tree
And the redcoats mustered there.
I watched him come as the roll of the drum
Sounded on the barrack square.
He kissed his sister, went aloft
Then waved a last good-bye,
And as he died, I turned and cried
They have murdered Henry Joy.
Another Protestant- my ancestor, Henry Joy McCracken- stepped in at the last moment and took over as the leader of Tone's rebellion in Ulster. A charasmatic leader, McCracken is a romantic figure in Irish history. His men nearly captured the city of Antrim, only to be repulsed when the Redcoats were unexpectedly reinforced.
McCracken attempted to escape to America, but was betrayed and captured. The British offered him his life if he would name the man who was originally supposed to lead the Ulster rebellion, but he refused and went heroically to the gallows, comforted in his last moments by his sister, Mary Ann- a social reformer and philanthropist who made her own mark on Irish history. She also raised my ancestor, Henry Joy's illegitimate daughter Maria.
This coming Thursday, July 17, will be the 210th annivesary of McCracken's execution in the Corn Market in Belfast. I've mentioned a folk song about him before in this blog. Well, today- much to my gratification- I found not one but two versions of that song on YouTube! Here is one of them:
The words:
An Ulster man I am proud to be,
From the Antrim glens I come.
Although I labour by the sea,
I have followed flag and drum.
I have heard the martial tramp of men;
I've seen them fight and die.
Ah! lads I well remember when
I followed Henry Joy.
I pulled my boat in from the sea,
I hid my sails away.
I hung my nets upon a tree
And scanned the moonlit bay.
The boys were out, the redcoats too,
I bade my wife good-bye,
And then beneath the greenwood glade
I followed Henry Joy.
Alas, for Ireland's cause we fought
For home and sire we bled.
Though our arms were few, our hearts beat true
And five to one lay dead.
And many a lassie missed her lad
And mother mourned her boy,
For youth was strong in the dashing throng
That followed Henry Joy.
In Belfast town they built a tree
And the redcoats mustered there.
I watched him come as the roll of the drum
Sounded on the barrack square.
He kissed his sister, went aloft
Then waved a last good-bye,
And as he died, I turned and cried
They have murdered Henry Joy.
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