The New Couragious Conquest:
OR,
The Town of Athlone in Ireland Storm'd and Taken,
On the 30th. of June, 1691, by the Courage and Conduct of General Ginkle, to the great
Joy of the English Forces, and unspeakable Consternation of the Irish Rebells.
To the Tune of Valiant Jockey.
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SOund the Trumpet, beat the Drum,
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Right joyful News once more is come
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From the Army, now in Ireland,
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Which doth like true men of Courage stand;
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Valiant Ginkle brave and bold,
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Lead on his nobles Hearts of Gold,
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Storming Athlone there most furiously,
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Till they made the Rebbel Tories fly;
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Both night and day, great Guns did play,
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For we were resolved to clear the way.
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Teagues they did groan as Bombs were thrown.
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While we storm'd the Town of fair Athlone.
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Boys the Buildings of the Town,
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With Cannon-Balls we batter down,
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Trumpets sounding all the while that we
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Were expressing of our Bravery;
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Being then resolv'd to dye,
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Or to obtain the Victory,
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Therefore with a Resolution bent,
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To the face of the Proud Foe we went;
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They shot amain, yet few was slain,
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For we soon return'd the like again:
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It is well known, twenty for one,
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We did slay in storming of Athlone.
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Then the River did we sound,
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And by that means a Ford we found;
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Thorough which we were resolv'd to wade,
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While the roaring Cannons sweetly plaid;
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Fifteen-Hundred Granadiers,
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Stout Valiant Soldiers void of Fears,
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Marched through this River deep and wde,
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To assault and storm the other side:
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Shot did abound, Huzza's all round,
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While we made the Element resound:
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Teague in his tone Cry'd Ah hone! ah hone!
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Now Be-Criest at length we lose Athlone.
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Collonel Talmash being here
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As a Renowned Volunteer;
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Likewise many more Commanders, who
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Had right warlike Skill and Conduct too;
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This maintain'd our Courage, so
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That we could Fight and Scorn the Foe,
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Falling on with vigour, might, and main,
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Till a Thousand Tories there lay slain:
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Now at the sight some took their flight,
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For Be-Criest, they were afraid to Fight:
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Ah hone! ah hone! This was the Tone,
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Teague has lost the Town of fair Athlone.
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Thus in Triumph and Renown,
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Brave Boys we storm'd and won the Toown,
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While the Tories cry'd out Hone a cre,
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Whedder shall we now for safety flee;
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Great King William's Armed Host,
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Dey are resolved to rule the Roast:
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Dub, a dub, a dub, their Drums do beat,
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While in sad disorder we retreat,
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Our Foot and Horse, deir Foreheads cross,
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Yet poor Teague he suffers all the loss:
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A hone! a hone! this is their Mone,
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Teague has lost the Town of fair Athlone.
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