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IRISH MELODIES. |
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'T is true, in manliest eyes A passing tear will rise,
When we think of the friends we leave lone ; But what can wailing do ? See, our goblet's weeping too !
"With its tears we'll chase away our own, boy, our own;
With its tears we '11 chase away our own.
But daylight's stealing on ; — The last that o'er us shone
Saw our children around us play; The next —ah ! where shall we And those rosy urchins be ?
But — no matter — grasp thy sword and away, boy, away;
No matter — grasp thy sword and uway i
Let those who brook the chain Of Saxon or of Dane
Ignobly by their fire-sides stay; One sigh to home be given, One heartfelt prayer to heaven,
Then, for Erin and her cause, boy, hurra! hurra ! hurra!
Then, for Erin and her cause, hurra! |
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