BANAGHER RHUE

Banagher Rhue of Donegal, ( Holy Mary, how slow the dawn! ) This is the hour of your loss or gain: Is go d-tigheadh do, mhûirnín slan!

Banagher Rhue, but the hour was ill ( O Mary Mother, how high the price! ) When you swore you’ d game with Death himself; Aye, and win with the devil’ s dice.

Banagher Rhue, you must play with Death, ( Mary, watch with him till the light! ) Through the dark hours, for the words you said, All this strange and noisy night.

Banagher Rhue, you are pale and cold; ( How the demons laugh through the air! ) The anguish beads on your frowning brow; Mary set on your lips a prayer!

Banagher Rhue, you have won the toss: ( Mother, pray for his soul’ s release! ) Shuffle and deal ere the black cock crows, That your spirit may find its peace.

Banagher Rhue, you have played a king; ( How strange a light on your fingers fall! ) A voice, “I was cold, and he sheltered me...” The trick is gained, but your chance is small.

Banagher Rhue, now an ace is yours; ( Mother Mary, the night is long! ) “I was a sin that he hurried aside...” O for the dawn and the blackbird’ s song!

Banagher Rhue, now a ten of suit; ( Mother Mary, what hot winds blow! ) “Nine little lives hath he saved in his path...” And the black cock that does not crow.

Banagher Rhue, you have played a knave; ( O what strange gates on their hinges groan! ) “I was a friend who had wrought him ill; When I had fallen he cast no stone...”

Banagher Rhue, now a queen has won! ( The black cock crows with the flash of dawn. ) And she is the woman who prays for you: “Is go d-tigheadh do, mhûirnín slan!”