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• Artiste: Karan Casey
• Titre: Town of Athlone
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In the town of Athlone there's a young woman walking And wrapped 'round her baby a shawl as she speaks Of the passing of rings to the uniformed soldiers The price of a ribbon their fortune to speak Ah their fortune she speaks and she speaks of a river Whose silvery barrows and moorlands beneath Where a gun battle raged and the hero for Ireland Soon would lie down dead, dead at her feet At the feet of the virgin in the grotto of Annah She sings to her baby in old styles bequeath As she lilts and laments and enchants all in hearing With songs of her people and melodies sweet Sweet silvery Nore river is rolling Over an Irish soldier's grave And the vestry bells are tolling Over the ashes of his grave In the freeborn land of the traveling people Lies Nioclas Mullins the pride of Cullbawn Yet unmarked beside him the bride of his union Who carried our music in a black gypsy shawl Sweet silvery Nore river is rolling Over an Irish soldier's grave And the vestry bells are tolling Over the ashes of his grave