The day still I rue when we parted in anger,
For a place and a party remain not in me.
Then grant me once more for a day or an hour
The pleasures of office, the semblance of power.
O cover my head with the shamrock’s green flower,
And I’ll dance to the measure of Erin-go-bragh.
O Erin! dear island! though sad and forsaken,
In dreams I revisit the Speaker’s right hand;
But, alas! with the dawn’s reappearing I waken,
Regretful I broke with the Irish brass band.