Shutting of the Gates of Derry

Melody - "Auld Lang Syne", Scottish air; Seq. by Barry Taylor

Full many a long wild winter's night
And sultry summer's day
Are past and gone since James took flight
From Derry Walls away.
Cold are the hands that closed that gate
Against the wily foe
But here to Time's remotest date,
Their spirit still shall glow.

2. So here's a health to all good men,
Now fearless friends are few.
But when we close our gates against
We'll then be all True Blue.
Lord Antrim's men came down yon glen
With drums and trumpets gay
Our 'Prentice Boys just heard the noise
And then prepared for play.

3. While some opposed, the gates they closed,
And joining hand-in-hand
Before the wall resolved to fall
Or for their freedom stand,
When honor calls to Derry Walls,
The noble and the brave,
Oh! He that in the battle falls
Must find a hero's grave.

4. Then came the hot and doubtful fray,
With many a mortal wound;
While thousands in wild war's array,
Stood marshaled all around.
Each hill and plain was strewed with slain
The Foyle ran red with blood;
But all was vain the town to gain
Here William's standard stood.

5. Renowned are they who face their foes
As men and heros should;
But let the slave steal to his grave
Who fears to shed his blood,
The matchless deeds of those who here
Defied the tyrant 's frown
On history's bright rolls appear
Emblazoned in renown.

6. Here deathless Walker's faithful word
Sent hosts against the foe
And gallant Murray's bloody sword
The Gallic chief laid low,
We honor those heroic dead,
Their glorious memory:
May we, who stand here in their stead
As wise and valliant be!

7. Oh! Sure a heart of stone would melt,
The scenes once here to see:
And witness all our fathers felt,
To make their country free
They saw the lovely matron's cheek
With want and terror pale
They heard the child's expiring shriek,
Float on the passing gale!

8. Yet here they stood in field of blood,
As battle raged around
Resolved to die till victory
Their purple standard crowned.
The sacred rights these heroes gained
In many a hard-fought day
Shall they by us be still maintained
Or basely cast away?

9. Shall rebels vile rule o'er our isle,
And call it all their own?
Oh, surely no! The faithless foe
Must bend before the throne
Then here's a health to all good men,
To all good men and true;
And when we close our gates again,
We'll then be all True Blue.

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