BOULAVOGUE – The Rising of Wexford (Father Murphy 1798) | Irish Rebel Ballad

Boulavogue – The Song That Carries the Spirit of 1798

“Boulavogue” is more than a traditional Irish ballad — it is an echo of a moment in history when ordinary people rose with extraordinary courage. Written to honour the heroes of the 1798 Wexford Rebellion, the song has become one of Ireland’s most powerful musical memorials, capturing the bravery, tragedy, and hope of a community pushed to the edge. Though centuries have passed, the fire in this song has never dimmed.

The story begins in the quiet Wexford village of Boulavogue, where Father John Murphy served as the local parish priest. Murphy was not a political agitator by nature; he was, in every sense, a reluctant rebel. For years he urged his parishioners to avoid uprising and keep peace. But when Crown forces began burning homes, harassing families, and dragging innocent people from their beds, Murphy saw that neutrality was no longer an option. The people were defenceless — and he knew they needed someone to guide them.

What followed became one of the most dramatic chapters in Irish history. Against all expectation, Father Murphy transformed from priest to leader, rallying farmers and labourers who possessed little more than pikes, pitchforks, and courage. Under his leadership, the insurgents achieved decisive early victories, including the famous Battle of Oulart Hill, where a poorly armed Irish force defeated a well-equipped column of British militia. These victories sent shockwaves through the region; for a fleeting moment, hope spread across Wexford like wildfire.

“Boulavogue” immortalises this moment. The song’s verses praise Father Murphy’s leadership and mourn the suffering that followed. It honours the men and women who stood together, driven not by conquest but by the simple desire to protect their families, their faith, and their community. Through the melody, listeners can feel both the pride of resistance and the sorrow of a cause brutally crushed.





LYRICS

We took Camolin and Enniscorthy, At Boulavogue as the sun was setting On the bright May meadows of Shelmaliar, A rebel hand set the heather blazing And brought the neighbours from far and near. Then Father Murphy from old Kilcormack Spurred up the rocks with a warning cry; "Arm, arm," he cried, "for I've come to lead you; For Ireland's freedom we'll fight or die." He led us on 'gainst the coming soldiers; The cowardly yeomen we put to flight. 'Twas at the Harra the boys of Wexford Showed Bookies' regiment how men could fight. Look out for hirelings, King George of England, Search ev'ry kingdom that breathes a slave, For Father Murphy from County Wexford Sweeps o'er the land like a mighty wave. We took Camolin and Enniscorthy, And Wexford storming drove out our foes; Twas at Slieve Coillte our pikes were reeking With the crimson stream of the beaten yeos. At Tubberneering and Ballyellis Full many a Hessian lay in his gore; Ah, Father Murphy, had aid come over, The green flag floated from shore to shore! At Vinegar Hill o'er the pleasant Slaney Our heroes vainly stood back to back, And the Yoes at Tullow took Father Murphy And burned his body upon the rack. God grant you glory, brave Father Murphy, And open heaven to all your men; For the cause that called you may call tomorrow In another fight for the green again.



Location: Ireland

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