In Granshaw she was born and reared,
Near to the Ards new town
With twinkling eyes and golden curls,
She was the pride of Down;
You'd go the whole of Erin's Isle,
And search by night and day
But never would you find the like,
Of darling Betsy Gray.
'Twas on the thirteenth day of June,
That year of Ninety-Eight
The pikes turned out 'gainst Ballynahinch,
To better free men's fate;
The bravest of the Hearts of Down,
Amidst the gory fray
With dashing steed and flashing blade,
Was darling Betsy Gray.
But English muskets said their piece,
They cut the Irish down
And Freedom's dreams lay cold and dead,
Before the Butcher's Crown;
Her sweetheart, Willie Boal, cried out:
My love, we must away
No Redcoat e'er shall lay a hand,
On darling Betsy Gray.
At Armstrong's farm at Ballycreen,
The Yeos upon them fell
They murdered Betsy, Willie too,
Her brother George as well;
Now in that vale of Ballycreen,
Green bushes wave and sway
And only black oak marks the grave,
Of darling Betsy Gray.
Near to the Ards new town
With twinkling eyes and golden curls,
She was the pride of Down;
You'd go the whole of Erin's Isle,
And search by night and day
But never would you find the like,
Of darling Betsy Gray.
'Twas on the thirteenth day of June,
That year of Ninety-Eight
The pikes turned out 'gainst Ballynahinch,
To better free men's fate;
The bravest of the Hearts of Down,
Amidst the gory fray
With dashing steed and flashing blade,
Was darling Betsy Gray.
But English muskets said their piece,
They cut the Irish down
And Freedom's dreams lay cold and dead,
Before the Butcher's Crown;
Her sweetheart, Willie Boal, cried out:
My love, we must away
No Redcoat e'er shall lay a hand,
On darling Betsy Gray.
At Armstrong's farm at Ballycreen,
The Yeos upon them fell
They murdered Betsy, Willie too,
Her brother George as well;
Now in that vale of Ballycreen,
Green bushes wave and sway
And only black oak marks the grave,
Of darling Betsy Gray.
Contributed by Bernart Bartleby - 2014/11/5 - 10:57
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Canzone di autore anonimo risalente alla fallita ribellione irlandese del 1798, quella capitanata da Wolfe Tone.
Testo trovato su Traditional Music
Betsy Gray era una giovane contadina di un villaggio nei dintorni di Lisburn, non distante da Belfast, contea nordirlandese di Antrim. Era di origine scozzese, protestante presbiteriana, ma nel 1798 si unì agli United Irishmen e combattè con i ribelli guidati da Henry Munro.
Il 12 giugno a Ballynahinch, contea Down, Betsy Gray, insieme al fratello e al fidanzato, partecipò ad una battaglia dove i ribelli vennero sconfitti e che segnò la fine della rivolta nell’Ulster. Mentre i tre cercavano di mettersi in salvo, furono intercettati da un gruppo di Yeomen, volontari irlandesi al servizio degli occupanti, che li trucidarono sul posto.
I responsabili dell’esecuzione si chiamavano Thomas Nelson e James Little, entrambi di Annahilt.
Testimonianze riferiscono come ancora molti anni dopo la gente di Annahilt rifiutasse il posto in chiesa accanto ai Nelson e ai Little, i cui discendenti erano pure fatti oggetto di angherie a scuola…
Betsy Gray fu celebrata in molte ballate popolari.