Author: Banjo Paterson (Andrew Barton)

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    Lonely and sadly one night in November
        I laid down my weary head in search of repose
    On my wallet of straw, which I long shall remember,
        Tired and weary I fell into a doze.
                Tired from working hard
                Down in the labour yard,
    Night brought relief to my sad, aching brain.
                Locked in my prison cell,
                Surely an earthly hell,
    I fell asleep and began for to dream.

    I dreamt that I stood on the green fields of Erin,
        In joyous meditation that victory was won.
    Surrounded by comrades, no enemy fearing.
        Stand, was the cry, every man to his gun.
                 On came the Saxons then,
                 Fighting our Fenian men,
    Soon theyll reel back from our piked volunteers.
                 Loud was the fight and shrill,
                 Wexford and Vinegar Hill,
    Three cheers for Father Murphy and the bold cavaliers.

    I dreamt that I saw our gallant commander
        Seated on his charger in gorgeous array.
    He wore green trimmed with gold and a bright shining sabre
        On which sunbeams of Liberty shone brightly that day.
                On, was the battle cry,
                Conquer this day or die,
    Sons of Hibernia, fight for Liberty!
                Show neither fear nor dread,
                Strike at the foemans head,
    Cut down horse, foot, and artillery!

    I dreamt that the night was quickly advancing,
        I saw the dead and dying on the green crimson plain.
    Comrades I once knew well in deaths sleep reposing,
        Friends that I once loved but shall neer see again.
                The green flag was waving high,
                Under the bright blue sky,
        And each man was singing most gloriously.
                Come from your prison, Bourke,
                We Irishmen have done our work,
    God has been with us, and old Ireland is free.

    I dreamt I was homeward, back over the mountain track,
        With joy my mother fainted and gave a loud scream.
    With the shock I awoke, just as the day had broke,
        And found myself an exile, and twas all but a dream.

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Type of Poem: Ballad

Date Written:

Date Published:

Language: English

Keywords: Public Domain

Source: Public Domain Collection

Publisher:

Rights/Permissions: Public Domain

Comments/Notes: This poignant poem seems to grapple with themes of longing, nationalism, and the harsh realities of life. The speaker, incarcerated and longing for freedom, drifts into a dream that transports him to his homeland, Ireland. The tone is a mixture of melancholy and nostalgia, with a stark contrast between the speaker's grim reality and his glorified dreamscape.

The structure of the poem – rhymed quatrains interspersed with three-lined stanzas – provides a rhythmic quality, echoing the cyclic nature of the speaker's day-to-day existence and his escapist dreams. The poem employs vivid imagery and metaphor, particularly in the dream sequences, where the battlefield is depicted as a 'green crimson plain'. This juxtaposition of colours symbolises both the Irish nation (green) and the bloodshed of conflict (crimson). The recurring symbol of green, along with references to Irish history and figures, underscores the theme of nationalism.

The poem's ending delivers a poignant twist, as the speaker awakens from his dream to find himself still in prison, his dream of freedom shattered. This underscores the harsh reality of his situation while also highlighting the power of dreams as an escape. Overall, the poem paints a moving picture of a man trapped in dire circumstances, clinging to his dreams of a free Ireland as his only respite.