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204 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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You've a hand for the grasp of friendship—another to
make them quake, And they're welcome to whichsoever it pleases them
most to take.
Shall our homes, like the huts of Connaught, be crumbled before our eyes ?
Shall we fly, like a flock of wild geese, from all that we love and prize ?
No ! by those who were here before us, no churl shall our tyrant be;
Our land it is theirs by plunder, but, by Brigid, ourselves are free.
No! we do not forget that greatness did once to sweet
Eire belong; No treason or craven spirit was ever our race among ; And no frown or no word of hatred we give—but to
pay them back; In evil we only follow our enemies' darksome track.
Oh ! come for a while among us, and give us the friendly hand,
And you'll see that old Tipperary is a loving and gladsome land;
From Upper to Lower Ormond, bright welcomes and smiles will spring —
On the plains of Tipperary the stranger is like a king. |
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