A STORY OF THE SHAMROCK
Copyright, 1890, by Frank Harding.
Words by W. C. Kobey. Music by Chas. Page.
I'll relate to you a story, the truth I'll tell with pride;
You've heard of Ireland's emblem, with its three leaves, far and wide;
Love, truth and valor are the words impressed upon each leaf;
That flower can boast a pedigree, though now bowed down by grief.
I've not come here to agitate or speak of shining lights;
Nor is it my Intention here to affirm on Irish rights;
The story that you'll hear from me, I tell where'er I roam;
That emblem dear is in my heart, that grows at home, sweet home.
It's planted in an Irish heart as deep as in the soil;
Its leaves are watered by the tears that come of honest toll;
The thistle and the rose will grow in any common ground.
but you can't transplant the shamrock, from old Ireland-it's land.
The modest shamrock loved the rose, and courted it from youth;
It did no underhanded work, but always spoke the truth;
It had a good foundation, too, 'twas backed by modest pride;
The shamrock, thistle and the rose with truth and love were tied,
Till, like a serpent in the grass, ambition crept between.
And wrenched the bonds of truth and love just off that peaceful scene.
The lose repaid the shamrock with Ingratitude for love.
Just like the hawk that pounced upon the unsuspecting dove. -Chorus.
The rose may well remember when the shamrock stood his friend,
The dear old homes of England he helped him to defend;
And though the shamrock shed its blood, as hist'ry plainly shows,
It seems the paltry rose forgets to pay the debt she owes.
We ask you, can you wonder at old Ireland's bittered smiles
When base and cowardly traitors are plotting all the while;
But with love, truth and valor, and honest hearts unfurled.
The future of the shamrock will electrify the world.-Chorus.