500,000 Curses: Cruel John Adair

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50,000 Curses…

Cruel John Adair

He brought the sheriff to our doors
He quenched our fires so bright
My grandsire is no more
He died that fatal night
My mother weeps, her youngest child,
A boy of beauty rare
But four months old, so meek and mild,
Done in by John Adair \

For many a year our weary race
Have tilled the mountainside
Have worked old Glenveagh’s rugged face
Have steamed the Atlantic wide
Full fifty homes he has levelled all
And wild sighs fill the air
Full fifty thousand curses fall \
On cruel John Adair.

– Anonymous Bard