Then what will the yeomen do?
Says the shan van vocht;
What will the yeomen do?
Says the shan van vocht;
What should the yeomen do
But throw off the red and blue,
And swear that they'll be true
To the shan van vocht?
What should the yeomen do
But throw off the red and blue,
And swear that they'll be true
To the shan van vocht?
And what colour will they wear?
Says the shan van vocht;
What colour will they wear?
Says the shan van vocht;
What colour should be seen
Where our fathers' homes have been,
But our own immortal Green?
Says the shan van vocht.
What colour should be seen
Where our fathers' homes have been,
But our own immortal Green?
Says the shan van vocht.
And will Ireland then be free?
Says the shan van vocht;
Will Ireland then be free?
Says the shan van vocht;
Yes! Ireland SHALL be free,
From the centre to the sea;
Then hurra! for Liberty!
Says the shan van vocht.
Yes! Ireland SHALL be free,
From the centre to the sea;
Then hurra! for Liberty!
Says the shan van vocht.
THE WEARING OF THE GREEN
THE WEARING OF THE GREEN
O Paddy dear, and did you hear the news that's going round?
The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground;
St. Patrick's day no more we'll keep, his colours can't be seen,
For there's a bloody law agin the wearing of the green.
I met with Napper Tandy, and he took me by the hand,
And he said, 'How's poor old Ireland, and how does she stand?'
She's the most distressful country that ever yet was seen,
They are hanging men and women for the wearing of the green.
Then if the colour we must wear be England's cruel red,
Let it remind us of the blood that Ireland has shed.
You may take the shamrock from your hat and cast it on the sod,
But 'twill take root and flourish there, though under foot 'tis trod.
When law can stop the blades of grass from growing as they grow,
And when the leaves in summer-time their verdure dare not show,
Then I will change the colour that I wear in my caubeen,
But 'till that day, please God, I'll stick to wearing of the green.