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A NEW SONG ON THE GLORIOUS LIBERATION OF

                              THE

REV'D IMcMAHON A ROMANZCATHOLICK

Preist who was condem'd to be hang'd drawn & qnarter'd for

Adminstering the last wrights of Religion to the dying Soldiers in

      THE FIELD OF BATTLE IN TORENTO IN

            NORTH AMERICA

COMPOSD BY W. BENNET — Air—Father Haughton—

Come all you Roman Cat olicks ätend unto my theme,
Its of a virtuas holy Preist Father Me Mahon it is his name
He was ill use'd & sore abuse'd & treat-d barboursly,
By a cruel band of reptiles vi1e but now thauk God he's free,

When Father John wns taken his enemies they swore,
They seen him on the battle field & he all stain'd iu gore,
With two revolvers in his belt & a Crusifix in his haad,
And that he was a leader unto the Fenian band,

There's he was close confin'd & sent to prison strong,
His cruel prosecute s they swore both right & wroog,
They swore he was a rebel unto he British Crown,
With on chains they bo ud him &nd hc no mercy found

Itt wheu that Father John was tried & that guilty he was fouud
Its then is auful senteuce it did the court confound,
To be ha g'd drawn & quarter'd most dreadful was his doom
But he was a Christian soldier of the holy Church of Rome

When the Judge he pass'd his sentance Father John he did reply,
The Almighty will protect me your malice defy,
But if I am doom'd to this dreadful death Gods holy will be done
That he may bless oid Ireland & all her gallantSons,

Then he was dradg'd to prison & there in a dungeon cell,
Aud what he sufferd for two years no mortal tounge can tell
With Iron bolts upon his feet & he chai 'd to the wallf
His cruel keepers were severe no mercy shew'd at all,

No bed or cloathing he receiv'd fit for a Christirn man,
And wreened food they gave th him it was their cursed plan
To take away bis prec o s life but God has set him free,
All praisesto our heavenly King that died on Carvory,

Now Ireland's Sons they well may boast of the Mc Mahons brave
For its in a any a field of blood their gal and swords did wave
They fought for their fa th & country they ere a noble clau,
Their cry was libe ty or death & God bless Ireland

Now all your bumpers to the brim & let the to st go round,
And dr nk unto each honest man that is oth true & sonud,
And as to Father John McMahon we thank the L rd he's free,
That he may coeqaer all his oes that's in Ameri a,

      P Br reton Printer L. Exchange Street Dublin

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