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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 247 |
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JAMES ORR
(1770-1816)
THE IRISHMAN
T
HE savage loves his native shore, Though rude the soil and chill the air; Then well may Erin's sons adore Their isle, which nature formed so fair. What flood reflects a shore so sweet
As Shannon great, or pastoral Bann ? Or who a friend or foe can meet So generous as an Irishman ?
His hand is rash, his heart is warm,
But honesty is still his guide; No more repent a deed of harm,
And none forgives with nobler pride; He may be duped, but won't be dared —
More fit to practice than to plan; He dearly earns his poor reward,
And spends it like an Irishman.
If strange or poor, for you he'll pay,
And guide to where you safe may be; If you're his guest, while e'er you stay
His cottage holds a jubilee. His inmost soul he will unlock,
And if he may your secrets scan, Your confidence he scorns to mock,
For faithful is an Irishman. |
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