[00:10.16]In the town of Athlone there’s a young woman walking
[00:14.09]And wrapped ‘round her baby a shawl as she speaks
[00:18.22]Of the passing of rings to the uniformed soldiers
[00:23.02]The price of a ribbon their fortune to speak
[00:27.91]Ah their fortune she speaks and she speaks of a river
[00:32.94]Whose silvery barrows and moorlands beneath
[00:37.23]Where a gun battle raged
[00:39.63]and the hero for Ireland
[00:41.85]Soon would lie down dead, dead at her feet
[00:47.01]At the feet of the virgin in the grotto of Annah
[00:51.94]She sings to her baby in old styles bequeath
[00:56.05]As she lilts and laments and enchants all in hearing
[01:00.94]With songs of her people and melodies sweet
[01:06.53]Sweet silvery Nore river is rolling
[01:11.09]Over an Irish soldier’s grave
[01:15.57]And the vestry bells are tolling
[01:20.28]Over the ashes of his grave
[01:34.29]In the freeborn land of the traveling people
[01:39.16]Lies Nioclas Mullins the pride of Cullbawn
[01:43.59]Yet unmarked beside him the bride of his union
[01:47.99]Who carried our music in a black gypsy shawl
[01:54.99]Sweet silvery Nore river is rolling
[01:58.29]Over an Irish soldier’s grave
[02:02.60]And the vestry bells are tolling
[02:07.50]Over the ashes of his grave
[02:12.78]Sweet silvery Nore river is rolling
[02:17.57]Over an Irish soldier’s grave
[02:22.35]And the vestry bells are tolling
[02:26.78]Over the ashes of his grave