Ned’s Castle

by Daniel Kelly - December 2022

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In Clonoulty, Tipperary, one cold September night,
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100 local Irishmen did work by candle light,
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To destroy Ballagh dispensary, with hammer, axe and saw
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In protest of the English Tithe, they did defy the law.

Thirteen men were transported, to Australia they were bound,
In chains of penal servitude, fourteen years to work the ground,
Ned Ryan came to Goulburn, until 1825,
When he got his leave ticket, lucky to be alive,

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One day I’ll build a castle, A castle tall and grand,
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And I’ll own the land for miles around, where my family can stand,
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And they’ll hear the name of Ryan, and our power it will grow,
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Fear of English church and Englishmen my kids will never know,

Ned became a squatter, when his freedom it was won,
The family from Ireland, they joined him on the run,
Brothers, Sisters, Cousins, helped the flocks to grow,
With a hundred thousand acres, Ned was the man to know.

Then Ned he build his castle, among the Galong hills,
In stones of hard defiance, a symbol of his will,
Proof that transported Irishmen, still retain their pride,
A piece of Tipperary, just on the other side,

Now Ned’s line it was ended, not long after it began,
But his house became a monastery, for the raising of young men,
To be warriors for Jesus, in the catholic empire,
And he rests beneath the marble, of Rusconi’s ornate spire,

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