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And come tell me, Séan O'Farrell,
Tell me why you hurry so.
Hush, a bhuachaill, hush and listen,
And his cheeks were all aglow.
I bear orders from the captain,
Get you ready quick and soon;
For the pikes must be together,
At the rising of the moon.
At the rising of the moon,
At the rising of the moon;
For the pikes must be together,
At the rising of the moon.
And come tell me, Séan O'Farrell,
Where the gathering is to be.
At the old spot by the river,
Quite well known to you and me;
One more word for signal token,
Whistle out the marching tune,
With your pike upon your shoulder,
At the rising of the moon.
At the rising of the moon,
At the rising of the moon;
With your pike upon your shoulder,
At the rising of the moon.
Out of many a mud-walled cabin,
Eyes were watching through the night;
Many a manly heart was beating,
For the blesséd morning's light.
Murmurs ran along the valley,
To the banshee's lonely croon;
And a thousand pikes were flashing,
By the rising of the moon.
By the rising of the moon,
By the rising of the moon;
And a thousand pikes were flashing,
By the rising of the moon.
All along that singing river,
That black mass of men was seen;
High above their shining weapons,
Flew their own beloved green.
Death to every foe and traitor,
Whistle out the marching tune;
And hoorah, me boys, for freedom,
'Tis the rising of the moon.
'Tis the rising of the moon,
'Tis the rising of the moon;
And hoorah, me boys, for freedom,
'Tis the rising of the moon.
