THE DAY WE CELEBRATE!
Copyright, 1875, by E. H. Harding.
Come, all ye brave, bold Irishmen,
Wherever ye may be;
On Patrick's day we march away,
In each society;
The Ancient Order of Hibernians,
Father Matthew temperance men.
The sprig of Shamrock, and Fenians, too,
On the seventeenth of March fall in.
Arah! the drums do roll,
The marshals ride;
I tell you it's a trate
To see the sons of Erin's Isle,
On the day we celebrate.
The 'longshoremen are next in line,
All hardy, stout and tough;
Their hearts are made of Irish oak,
Although their hands are rough;
The music blowing sweet Garry Owen,
Or Killarney's lakes so fair,
To the city hall we make a call,
To be reviewed by the Mayor.-Chorus.
Shoemakers and tailors, too,
And tradesmen of all kinds,
In regularity they march along,
And never look behind;
The green flag flying, and the young girls sighing,
In their snow-white calico so nate;
For Ireland's saint we'd march till we faint, .
On the day we celebrate.-Chorus.