The Croppy Boy
When I was scarcelye eighteen years of age,
In the army I did engage;
To join the army were my intent,
To join the Royal Forty regiment. As sung by Harry Brazil, Gloucester 1 October 1967 (Springthyme 67.6.51,52) (The Croppy Boy and McCafferty here muddled). In: Shepheard, Peter. Folk Songs and Ballads of the Brazil Family of Gloucester (1967).
| When I was scarcelye eighteen years of age, In the army I did engage; To join the army were my intent, To join the Royal Forty regiment. As I was out on guard one day, Three little children ran out to play; From the quartermaster’s my order came, To take the name of those children three. I took one name in the stead of three, I took one name it was enough for me; From judge and trials I were never free, My life was born for the gallusee. As I was marched on the barrack square, With my rifle loaded I was perpared; It was my captain I meant to kill, I shot my colonel against my will. I done the deed and I shed his blood, At Liverpool assizes my trial stood; My sentence passed and my courage were low, Unto the gallus I were ’bliged to go. For I had no mother to break her heart, I had no father to take my part; I had one friend and a girl was she, She’d lay her life down for young Cath Maree. |
My sister Mary she heard the full extent, She run down stair in her mornings dress; “Five hundred guineas then I’d lay down, To see my brother march through Wexford town.” As I were mounting the platforms high, My ageing mother was standing by; My ageing father did me deny, And the name he give me was the Croppy Boy. So I choose the dark and I choose the blue, I choose the pink and the orange too; I’ll forsake them all those colours I’ll deny, I’ll wear the green unto the day I die. As I was marched ’cross those boggy moor, With a guard behind me and a guard before; With a guard behind me and a guard before, My old ageing mother I won’t see no more. It’s in Dungannon there I’ll die, [he died And in Dungannon his body lies; You yeomen cavalry as you all pass by, You would say a prayer for the Croppy Boy. |
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