How hard is my fortune how vain my repining,
The strong rope of fate for my young neck is twinning,
My strenght is departed my cheek sunk and sallow,
While I languish in chains in the Jail of Cluain Meala.

No boy in the village was ever yet milder.
I could play with a child and my sport be no wilder.
I could dance without tiring from morning till evening
And my goalball I'd strike to the lightning of heaven.

At my bed foot decaying my hurley is lying.

Through the lads of the village my goalball is flying.
My horse 'mong the neighbours neglected may fallow.
While this heart young and gay lies cold in Cluan Meala.

Next Sunday the pattern at home will be keeping.
All the lads of the village the fields will be sweeping.
And the dance of fair maidens the evening will hallow.
While this heart young and gay lies cold in Cluan Meala.

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these lyrics are submitted by musixmatch2
these lyrics are last corrected by erme on October 18, 2019
Record Label(s): 2004 IML Irish Music Licensing Ltd
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The Jail Of Cluain Meala Lyrics

LUKE KELLY