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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 35 |
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By that green slope beside Belfast, we cheered and
cheered it still — For they had changed its name that year, and they
called it Bunker's Hill —
Bunker's Hill ! Oh, were our hands but with our hearts in the trench
at Bunker's Hill! |
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Our ship cleared out for Quebec; but thither little
bent, Up some New England river, to run her keel we
meant; So we took a course due north as round the old Black
Head we steered, Till Ireland bore southwest by south, and Fingal's
rock appeared. Then on the poop stood Webster, while the ship hung
flutteringly, About to take her tack across the wide, wide ocean
sea — He pointed to th' Atlantic : " Sure, yon's no place for
slaves: Haul down these British badges, for Freedom rules the
waves —
Rules the waves ! " Three hundred strong men answered, shouting, " Freedom rules the waves'! " |
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Then all together rose and brought the British ensign
down, And up we hauled our Irish Green, without the British
Crown. |
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