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Fr. W.M. Casey of Abbeyfealele

My Irish fellow a countrymen, alas, we mourn today;

For death has claimed, our hero famed

And his spirit passed away.

Our exile friends in foreign lands with sorrow heard the tale,

They hoped once more to clasp his hands,

In dear old Abbeyfeale.

In Land League days when men arose to Michael Davitt's call,

Prepared to meet his country's foes

With bayonet and with ball,

He proudly raised the green flag high and never yet did quail,

As martial music reached the skies

From his band in Abbeyfeale.

When O'Grady came with fire and ball and burned the dwellings down,

His hirelings crew they did subdue

The county and the town.

"Twas Father Casey's powerful league that soon brought on the sale,

For the bailiffs went without the rent

That day in Abbeyfeale.

Thank God he lived to see the day his parishioners were free,

For not a landlord there held sway

They're banished o'er the sea.

As St. Patrick drove the serpent grim away from Inisfail

So Father Casey banished them

From dear old Abbeyfeale.

He was a kind and loving friend, and our hearts were filled with grief.

Mavrone! he is gone, that holy man

That fiery Galtee Chief;

Who never yet denied the poor, nor scorned the orphan's wail.

For they left their blessings at his door

In dear old Abbeyfeale.

When the Master called, he did obey and freely gave consent.

So let us all unite toÄday

To raise his monument;

For well he knew his time had come, when he heard the Banshee's wail,

But his noble spirit hovers yet

Over dear old Abbeyfeale.

from Knocknagoshel Then and Now, No. 11, 1994

Thanks to Ray Marshall for contributing this!


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