The Spanish Armada
Was blown off its course
Far to the north west of Rockall
Medina Sidonia
He knew what would befall
Those who closed with a lee shore
Wounded in Calais
And pounded at Gravelines
Laid over in the Atlantic
Raised upon mountains
And sunken in valleys
Spanish galleons run for shelter
What say your pilots
On their high and lofty castles
Cast among uncharted soundings
The sea bed rises
Throws foam up to heaven
And cables they break asunder
There is no handhold
In thundering water
Nor any means of rescue
Now Spanish gold
Slips down through the fathoms
So deep to lie forever
And silk and treasure
Roll in a sandstorm
Into the shallows and bays of Mayo
A drowned Spanish Army
Invades unhappy Connaught
And Fitzwilliam cries for reinforcements
The English horsemen
They ride in the distance
And the Irish pick for the salvage
I wish I had never
Been a witness
To such savage scenes amidst the spoils
They cut down flowers
That could have been planted
And blossomed on less barren soil