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HIBERNIAN SONGSTER. 141
For the world is all before us, where the landladies adore us.
And ne'er refuse to score us, but chalk us up with joy. We taste her tap, we tear her cap, "Oh, that's the chap for me," says she,
"Oh, Isn't he a darling, the Bowld Sojer Boy!" Then come along with me, gramachree, and you'll see
How happy you will be with your Bowld Sojer Boy. Faith, if you're up to fun, with me run, 'twill be done
In the snapping of a gun, says the Bowld Sojer Boy. And 'tis then that, without scandle, myself would proudly dandle
The little farthing candle of our mutual love and joy. May his light shine as bright as mine, till in the line he'll blaze, and raise
The glory of his corps, like a Bowld Sojer Boy. |
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THE FENIAN MEN.
See who come over the red-blossomed heather,
Their green banners kissing the pure mountain air. Heads erect, eyes to front, stepping proudly together. Sure Freedom sits throned in each proud spirit there.
Down the hills twining,
Their blessed steel shining, Like rivers of beauty they flow from each glen,
From mountain and valley
'Tis Liberty's rally, So out, and make way for the Fenian Men!
Our prayers and our tears have been scoffed and derided, They've shut out God's sunlight from spirit and mind— .Our Foes were united, and We were divided,
We met, and they scattered us aii to the wind;
But once more returning,
Within our veins burning The fires that illumined dark Aherlow glen,
We raise the old cry anew,
Slogan of Con and Hugh-Out, and make way for the Fenian Men! We have men from the Nore, from the Suir and the Shannon;
Let the tyrants come forth—we'll bring force against force; Our pen is the sword and our voice is the cannon Rifle for rifle and horse against horse.
We've made the false Saxon yield
Many a red battle-field— God on our side, we will do so again.
Pay them back woe for woe,
Give them back blow for biow— Out, and make way for the Fenian Men! Side by side for this cause have our forefathers battled,
When our hills never echoed the tread of a slave, On many green fields, where the leaden hail has rattled, Thro' the red gap of glory, they marched to the grave.
And they who inherit
Their names and their spirit, Will march 'neath our Banners of Liberty; then
All who love Saxon law,
Native or Sassenah, Out, and make way for the Fenian Men! Up for the cause then, fling forth our Green Banners;
From the East to the West, from the South to the North— Irish land, Irish men, Irish mirth, Irish manners— From the mansion and cot let the slogan go forth.
Sons of Old Ireland, now,
Love you our sireland, now? Come from the kirk, or the chapel, or glen;
Down with all Faction old,
Concert and action bold, This is the creed of the Fenian Men! |
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