[identity profile] duathir.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] war_poetry
The Wearing Of The Green

O Paddy dear, and did you hear the news that's going round?
The Shamrock is forbid, by laws, to grow on Irish ground!
No more St. Patrick's day we'll keep; his color can't be seen;
For there's a bloody law agin the Wearing of the Green!

Oh! I met with Nabertancly, and he took me by the hand,
And he says: How is Poor Ould Ireland, and does she stand?
She's the most distressful Country that ever I have seen:
For they are hanging men and women for the Wearing of the Green!

And since the color we must wear is England's cruel red,
Ould Ireland's sons will ne'er forget the blood that they have shed.
Then take the Shamrock from your hat, and cast it on the sod:
It will take root, and flourish still, tho' under foot 'tis trod.

When the law can stop the blades of grass from growing as they grow
And when the leaves in Summer time their verdure do not show..
Then I will change the color I wear in my cabbeen:
But till that day, plaze God! I'll stick to the Wearing of the Green!

But if, at last, her colors should be torn from Ireland's heart
Her sons with shame and sorrow from the dear old soil will part;
I've heard whispers of a Country that lies far beyond sea,
Where rich and poor stand equal, in the light of Freedom's day!

O Erin! must we leave you driven by the tyrant's hand!
Must we ask a Mother's blessing, in a strange but happy land,
Where the cruel Cross of England's thralldom never to be seen:
But where, thank God! we'll live and die, still Wearing of the Green!

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