For thousands were gathered there, if there was one,
All waitin' such time as the hangin' kem on.
At last they threw open the big prison-gate,
An' out came the sheriffs an' sodgers in state,
An' a cart in the middle, an' Shamus was in it,
Not _paler_, but _prouder_ than ever, that minute,
An' as soon as the people saw Shamus O'Brien,
Wid prayin' an' blessin', and all the girls cryin',
The wild wailin' sound it kem on by degrees,
Like the sound of the lonesome wind blowin' through trees.
On, on to the gallows the sheriffs are gone,
An' the cart an' the sodgers go steadily on;
At every side swellin' around of the cart,
A sorrowful sound, that id open your heart.
Now under the gallows the cart takes its stand,
An' the hangman gets up with the rope in his hand;
An' the priest, havin' blest him, goes down on the ground,
An' Shamus O'Brien throws one look around.
Then the hangman dhrew near, an' the people grew still,
Young faces turned sickly, and warm hearts turn chill,
An' the rope bein' ready, his neck was made bare,
For the gripe iv the life-strangling cord to prepare;
An' the good priest has left him, havin' said his last prayer.
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