The Journeyman

The Irish smuggling vessels brought in claret and brought out
recruits for the Continental armies as this song shows.

Oh, never, never more will I go to Cashel
  To auction off my labour,
And sit all day beside a wall
  And chat with friend and neighbour,
While big fat farmers ride up on their horses
  To ask me for the hiring,
With “Come, young man, you’ve a long road before you!”
  From journey work I’m retiring.

A journeyman my parents left me,
  Depending on my labour,
Though walking the dews in the early morning
  Will soon bring quartan fever,
And so goodbye to scythe and sickle,
  To herding and to mowing,
For I’ll put a pike upon my shoulder
  And go where the French are going.

Farewell, farewell to the home of my fathers
  And to our loving country,
And the boys of Coole—in the time of the troubles
  Themselves and I stood sentry,
And soon a poor and lonely wild-goose
  In foreign quarters slaving,
My heart will sink whenever I think
  Of the journeywork I’m leaving.


Source: O'Connor, Frank (tr); Kings, Lords, & Commons: An
Anthology from the Irish; 1962; London; Macmillan & Co; p.123