Oh then tell me Sean O’Farrell, tell me why you hurry so.
Hush a bhuchual, 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.
Oh then tell me Sean O’Farrell, where the gathering is to be.
In that old spot by the river quite well known to you and me.
One more word for signal token, whistle up the marching tune.
With your pike upon your shoulder by the rising of the moon.
By the rising of the moon.
By the rising of the moon.
With your pike upon your shoulder by the rising of the moon.
Out from many’s a mudwall cabin eyes were watching through the night.
Many’s a manly heart was throbbing for the blessed warning light.
Murmurs passed along the valleys like the banshee’s lonely croon.
And 1, 000 blades were flashing at the rising of the moon.
At the rising of the moon.
At the rising of the moon.
And 1, 000 blades were flashing at the rising of the moon.
There beside the singing river that dark mass of men were seen.
Far above the shining weapons hung their own beloved green.
Death to every foe and traitor forward strike the marching tune.
And hurrah me boys for freedom, 'tis the rising of the moon.
'Tis the rising of the mooon.
'Tis the rising of the mooon.
And hurrah me boys for freedom, 'tis the rising of the moon.
Well they fought for poor old Ireland and full bitter was their fate.
(Oh what glorious pride and sorrow fills the name of '98)
Yet thank God they’re still are beating hearts in manhood’s burning noon.
Who would follow in their footsteps at the rising of the moon.
At the rising of the moon.
At the rising of the moon.
Who would follow in their footsteps by the rising of the moon.
By the rising of the moon.
By the rising of the moon.
And hurrah me boys for freedom, 'tis the rising of the moon…