The Convict Of Clonmel - Liam Clancy

How hard is my fortune

How vain my repining

The strong rope of death

For my young neck is twining

My strength is departed

My cheeks sunk and sallow

While I languish in chains

In the gaol of Clûn Malla

No boy in the village

Was ever yet milder

I could play with a child

And my sport be no wilder

I danced without tiring

From morning til evening

And my goal ball I’d strike

To the lightning of heaven

At my bedfoot decaying

My hurley is lying

Through the lads of the village

My goal ball is flying

My horse 'mongst the neighbours

Neglected may fallow

While I pine in my chains

In the gaol of Clûn Malla

Next Sunday the pattern

At home will be keeping

All the young

The field will be sweeping

The dance of fair maidens

The evening will hallow

While this heart

Once so gay

Will be cold in Clûn Malla