Name: The Mountains of Pomeroy
Duration: 6 min 16 s
Channel: Brendan Nolan

songwriter acoustic folk celtic traditional irish tampa tampabay

Brendan Nolan

An Irish singer/songwriter now living in the Tampa Bay area.

An Irish singer/songwriter from Dublin, now living in Tampa Bay, Florida. For more information, visit

Song Info

Genre

World • Traditional Irish

Charts

#7,666 today Peak #27

#164 in subgenre Peak #1

Author

Brendan Nolan

Rights

2007 Ould Sagosha Music

Uploaded

April 05, 2007

Track Files

MP3

MP3 5.7 MB • 128 kbps • 6:16

Story behind the song

From "Walton's Treasury Of Irish Songs and Ballads". This air is lovely whether sung or played as an instrumental. I've altered some of the words in the last verse of the song. The original line "a pale drowned bride met Renardine" never quite fell off my lips properly.

Lyrics

by Dr. George Sigerson

The dawn was breaking bright and fair
The lark sang in the sky
When the maid she bound her golden hair
With a blithe glance in her eye
For who beyond the grey-green wood
Was awaiting her with joy
Oh, who but her gallant Renardine
On the mountains of Pomeroy

Full often in the dawning hour
Full oft in the twilight brown
He met the maid in the woodland bower
Where the stream comes rushing down
For they were faithful and in love
No wars could e'er destroy
No tyrants laws touched Renardine
In the Mountains of Pomeroy

"My love," she said, "I'm sore afraid,
For the foeman's force and you
They've tracked you in the lowland plain
And all the valley through
My kinsmen frown when you are named
Your life they would destroy"
"Beware", they say, "of Renardine
In the Mountains of Pomeroy"

An outlawed man in a land forlorn
He scorned to turn and fly
But kept the cause of freedom safe
Upon the mountains high

"Fear not, fear not, my love," he cried
"Fear not the foe for me
No chain shall fall, what e'er betide
On the arm that would be free
Oh, leave your cruel kin and come
When the lark is in the sky
And it's with my life I will guard you
On the mountains of Pomeroy"

The morn has come, she rose and fled
From her cruel kin and home
And bright the wood and rosy red
And the tumbling torrent's foam
But the mist came down and the
tempest roared
And all around did destroy
And she was lost, the brave love of Renardine
On the mountains of Pomeroy

An outlawed man in a land forlorn
He scorned to turn and fly
And lost his love on that fateful day
In the mountains of Pomeroy
An outlawed man in a land forlorn
He scorned to turn and fly
But kept the cause of freedom safe
Upon the mountains high

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