The Jackets Green The Wolfe Tones

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When I was a maiden fair and young
On the pleasant banks of the Lee
No bird that in the green wood sung
Was half so blithe and free
My heart near beat with flying feet
No love sang me her queen
Till down the glen rode Sarsfield's men
And they wore the jackets green

No hoarded wealth did my love own
Save the gold sword that he bore
But I loved him for his self alone
And the colours bright he wore
For had he come in England's red
To make me England's queen
I'd rove the high green hills instead
For the sake of Irish green

When Sarsfield sailed away I wept
I heard the wild ochone
I felt then dead like the men who slept
'Neath the fields of Garryowen
While Ireland held my Donal blessed
No wild sea rolled between
Till I would fold him to my breast
All robed in Irish green