[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