Cromwell

A cold winter's morn in 1641,My lovely Ann was taken by O'Cane,Taken and defiled at the point of rebel gun,And drownèd in the murky River Bann.Hundreds more were taken at this date,Butchered and drowned, or buried in the sand,O'Neill's false promises ensured the same fate,I cursed his papist army to a man.Then one day on th' horizon I did see,A hundred of our ships all coming to my land,And off he…