{"id":27910,"date":"2025-07-19T10:12:49","date_gmt":"2025-07-19T10:12:49","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/folksongandmusichall.com\/?page_id=27910"},"modified":"2025-07-19T10:12:52","modified_gmt":"2025-07-19T10:12:52","slug":"exiles-lament-the","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/folksongandmusichall.com\/index.php\/exiles-lament-the\/","title":{"rendered":"Exile’s Lament, The"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
AKA<\/strong><\/td>Lay me on the hillside
The Soldier’s Lament
The Irish Exile<\/td><\/tr>
First Published<\/td>1884<\/td><\/tr><\/tbody><\/table><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Writer\/composer<\/td>JF Mitchell<\/td>Roud<\/strong><\/td>RN25024<\/td><\/tr><\/tbody><\/table><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Music Hall Performers<\/strong><\/td>Moore and Burgess Minstrels, many others<\/td><\/tr>
Folk performances<\/strong><\/td>Collected from the singing of:<\/strong>
Armstrong, James ; Ireland : Co. Wexford : 1909
Egan, James ; USA \/ Ireland ; 1920s (early)
Burke, Capt. Henry E. ; Canada : Nova Scotia ; 1941
Taylor, Edward ; Canada : Newfoundland ; 1952
Broderick, John ; Canada : Newfoundland 1977<\/td><\/tr><\/tbody><\/table><\/figure>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n
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\n
Beneath a fair Australian sky an Irish exile lay,
The sand from out his glass of life was ebbing fast away;
The friends that stood around his bed his eyes could scarcely see;
His thoughts, which soon would be at rest, were far across the sea.
In spirit once again he stood upon his native sod,
Where as a child, and as a man his foot had lightly trod;
In fancy he could feel upon his brow the mountain air,
And from his parted lips there issued soft the exile\u2019s prayer.

Lay me on the hillside, with my face towards the West ;
Towards that sacred island, the land that I love best;
Let a bunch of shamrocks green be planted o\u2019er my grave ;
My dying pray\u2019r is \"May god bless the island of the brave.\u201d<\/em>

Eviction foul and cruel sent him far across the foam,
From that sweet spot which Irishmen, where\u2019er they be, call home.
The land whose halls have felt the tread of princes and of kings,
Whose harp once wooed the world is now a mass of broken strings.
They were forced to leave the land which gave their fathers birth,
As strangers and outcasts to wander o\u2019er the earth.
The time came back to him again when he was but a child,
With mem\u2019ries of sweet rambles thro\u2019 her woods and valleys wild.

Each eye was wet with briny tears, his words had touched the heart,
For they were exiles too, and time, has failed to heal the smart;
In every clime beneath the sky, the Irish race are seen,
Yet still their every thought is fixed upon that Isle so green.
He calls his friends around him, for the end is drawing near,
And from his pale and haggard cheek they wiped away a tear;
Another victim of mis-rule, has felt the hand of death,
\"God bless you, Ireland,\" were the words which filled his dying breath.
<\/pre>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n
A song written in 1885 by soon-to-be  ex-patriate British music hall songwriter,\u00a0JF Mitchell,<\/a>, probably whilst he was still in the UK. In Britain it was best known as a blackface minstrel song, for instance featuring in the repertoire of the Moore and Burgess minstrels. In America It featured in the repertoire of a number of vaudeville performers including Clara Franklin<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sources:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n