Father Murphy

Location: Boston

Finn, I found that bit that I think was about the uprising led by Father Murphy. This is from memory so forgive me, the inaccuracies are mine alone:

The pockets of our greatcoats, full of barley. No kitchens on the run, no striking camp.
We moved quick and sudden in our own country. The priests lay behind ditches with the tramp, the people hardly marching.
On the hike! we saw new tactic happening every day. We'd cut through rein and rider with the pike, then stampede cattle into infantry. Then retreat through hedges, where cavalry must be thrown.
Until, Vinegar Hill, that fateful conclave...
Terust thousands died, shaking sides at cannon. The hill side blushed, soaked in our broken wave.
But in August, the barley grew up out of the grave....

(edited to add the song that goes with the prose)

What did I have, said the fine old woman
What did I have, this proud old woman did say
I had four green fields, each one was a jewel
But strangers came and tried to take them from me
I had fine strong sons, who fought to save my jewels
They fought and they died, and that was my grief said she

Long time ago, said the fine old woman
Long time ago, this proud old woman did say
There was war and death, plundering and pillage
My children starved, by mountain, valley and sea
And their wailing cries, they shook the very heavens
My four green fields ran red with their blood, said she

What have I now, said the fine old woman
What have I now, this proud old woman did say
I have four green fields, one of them's in bondage
In stranger's hands, that tried to take it from me
But my sons had sons, as brave as were their fathers
My fourth green field will bloom once again said she

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Father Murphy