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THE BOY FROM TAMALAGHTDUFF

As I walked through the Glenshane Pass,
I heard a young girl mourn.
"The boy from Tamalaghtduff," she cried,
"is two years dead and gone.
How my heart was torn apart,
for this young man to lose.
O! I'll never see the likes again
of my young Francis Hughes."
For many years his exploits were,
a thorn in England's side
The hills and glens became his home
And there he used to hide.
Once when they surrounded him,
he quietly slipped away.
Like a fox he went a ground
and kept the dogs at bay.

Moving 'round the countryside
he often made the news
But they could never lay their hands
on my brave Francis Hughes.
Finally they wounded him and
captured him at last
From the country side he loved
they took him to Belfast.
From Musgrave Park to the Crumlin Road
and then to an H-Block cell.
He went straight on the blanket
and on hungerstrike as well.
His will to win they could never break
No matter what they tried
He fought them everyday he lived and
he fought them as he died.

As I walked through the Glenshane Pass,
I heard a young girl mourn.
"The boy from Tamalaghtduff," she cried,
"is two years dead and gone."
And how my heart was torn apart
for this brave man to lose
O I'll never see the likes again
of my brave Francis Hughes.