Classic Poem

It is of a fearless Irishman a story I will tell,
His name was William Brennan, in Ireland he did dwell;
It was on the Calvert mountains he began his wild career,
Where many a wealthy gentleman he caused to shake with fear.

Oh, young Brennan on the moor, young Brennan on the moor,
Brave and undaunted stood young Brennan on the moor.

A brace of loaded pistols he carried with him each day,
He never robbed a poor man upon the king's highway;
For what he'd taken from the rich, like Turpin and Black Bess,
He always did divide it with a widow in distress.

One night he robbed an Irishman by the name of Jubr Bawn,
They traveled on together till the day began to dawn;
Then Jubr found his money gone, likewise his watch and chain,
Then he at once encountered him and robbed him back again.

When Willie found the packman was as good a man as he,
He took him on the highway his companion for to be;
The packman threw away his pack without any more delay,
And he proved a faithful comrade all on the king's highway.

One day upon the highway as Willie passed along,
He met the mayor of Cashel just one mile from the town;
The mayor knew his features, "I think, young man" said he,
"That your name is William Brennan, you must come along with me."

Now Willie's wife she being in town, provisions for to buy,
When she saw her Willie taken she began to weep and cry.
"Oh hand to me the tenpenny," these words to her he spoke;
She handed him a blunderbuss from underneath her cloak.

It's with a loaded blunderbuss, the truth I will unfold,
He made the mayor tremble and robbed him of his gold;
One hundred pounds he offered for his apprehension there,
And he with horse and saddle to the mountain did repair.

Now Brennan he's an outlaw all on the mountain side.
With infantry and cavalry to catch him they did try,
But he only laughed at them, until I've heard it said,
By a false-hearted female he was brutally betrayed.

It was on Tipperary, a place they called Shammore,
Where Brennan and his comrade that day did suffer sore;
They laid themselves down on the grass that grew amid the field,
And it's many a one received a wound before they did yield.

At length he was taken prisoner and in irons he was bound,
He was taken into Clonmore jail where strong walls did him surround;
The jury found him guilty, the judge made this reply,
"For robbery on the king's highway, young Brennan, you must die."

"Farewell, my little family, my wife and children three.
There is my poor old father who will shed tears for me,
Likewise my tender mother, as she wrung her hands and cried,
"Oh, would to God that Willie had within his cradle died!' "

Oh, young Brennan on the moor, young Brennan on the moor,
Brave and undaunted stood young Brennan on the moor.