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HIBERNIAN SONGSTER. 105 |
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How It sweeps o'er the mountain when bounds are on scent,
How It presses the billows when rigging Is rent,
Till the enemy's broadside sinks low in dismay,
As our boarders go in with the Irish Hurrah.
Oh! there's hope in the trumpet and glee in the fife.
But never such music broke into a strife,
As when at its bursting, the war-clouds, give way, i
And there's cold steel along with the Irish Hurrah,
What Joy for a death-bed, your banner above,
And round you the pressure of patriot love,
As you're lifted to gaze on the breaking array
Of the Saxon reserve at the Irish Hurrah. |
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THE GREEN LITTLE SHAMROCK OF IRELAND.
There's a dear little plant that grows in our isle,
'Twas Saint Patrick himself, sure, that set it; And the sun on his labor with pleasure did smile,
And with dew from his eye often wet it. It thrives through the bog, through the brake, through the mlreland; And he called it the dear little Shamrock of Ireland.
The sweet little Shamrock, the dear little Shamrock.
The sweet little, green little Shamrock of Ireland. _
This dear little plant still grows in our land
Fresh and fair as the daughters of Erin, Whose smiles can bewitch, whose eyes can command,
In each climate that they may appear in; And shine through the bog, through the brake, through the mlreland; Just like their own dear little Shamrock of Ireland. The sweet little Shamrock, the dear little Shamrock, The sweet little, green little Shamrock of Ireland.
This dear little plant that springs from our soil,
When its three little leaves are extended, Denotes from one stalk we together should toil,
And ourselves by ourselves1 be befriended; And still through the bog, through the brake, through the mlreland, From one root should branch, like the Shamrock of Ireland. The sweet little Shamrock, the dear little Shamrock; The sweet little, green little Shamrock of Ireland. |
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OLD IRELAND'S LIBERTY.
Rejoice! rejoice! Hibernla's sons rejoice!
For the day is near at hand when the French are going to land! Then rejoice! rejoice! Hibernia's sons rejoice!
For soon we shall see the day of liberty.
Old Ireland shall be free, and to that we all agree, For the foeman may meet us, and in battle not defeat us;
But still! still! we look for liberty!
For we are as brave a race as e'er could be.
Then prepare! prepare! Hibernia's sons prepare!
For the time it soon will come, get ready ydur pike and gun. And prepare! prepare! Hibernia's sons prepare!
To strike a gallant blow for liberty.
Let the dastard that Is willing to take the Saxon shilling, Return from whence he came, with a blot upon his name,
And repent! repent! for all his former crimes,
Until the sun no longer on him shines.
Now forward! forward! on to the fight we go!
Mind each your pike or gun, and we'll show the Saxon fun; Then steady! steady! let each one mark his man!
And soon our cry will be, "Old Ireland's free!"
For God is on our side, and in that alone we pride; For we have a righteous cause, "Free Ireland and Free Laws!"
Then huzza! huzza! huzza! huzza! huzza!
We will thrash the enemies of Liberty! |
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