O Patrick Sarsfield, health be to you, since you went to France and
your camps were loosened; making your sighs along with the king, and
you left poor Ireland and the Gael defeated--Och ochone! O Patrick
Sarsfield, it is a man with God you are; and blessed is the earth you
ever walked on. The blessing of the bright sun and the moon upon you,
since you took the day from the hands of King William--Och ochone!

O Patrick Sarsfield, the prayer of every person with you; my own prayer
and the prayer of the Son of Mary with you, since you took the narrow
ford going through Biorra, and since at Cuilenn O'Cuanac you won
Limerick--Och ochone!

I will go up on the mountain alone; and I will come hither from it
again. It is there I saw the camp of the Gael, the poor troop thinned,
not keeping with one another--Och ochone!

My five hundred healths to you, halls of Limerick, and to the beautiful
troop was in our company; it is bonefires we used to have and playing-
cards, and the word of God was often with us--Och ochone!

There were many soldiers glad and happy, that were going the way
through seven weeks; but now they are stretched down in Aughrim--Och
ochone!

They put the first breaking on us at the bridge of the Boyne; the
second breaking on the bridge of Slaine; the third breaking in Aughrim
of O'Kelly; and O sweet Ireland, my five hundred healths to you--Och
ochone!