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| WHO fears to speak of Ninety-Eight? | |
| Who blushes at the name? | |
| When cowards mock the patriot’s fate, | |
| Who hangs his head for shame? | |
| He’s all a knave, or half a slave, | 5 |
| Who slights his country thus; | |
| But a true man, like, you, man, | |
| Will fill your glass with us. | |
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| We drink the memory of the brave, | |
| The faithful and the few: | 10 |
| Some lie far off beyond the wave, | |
| Some sleep in Ireland, too; | |
| All, all are gone; but still lives on | |
| The fame of those who died; | |
| All true men, like you, men, | 15 |
| Remember them with pride. | |
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| Some on the shores of distant lands | |
| Their weary hearts have laid, | |
| And by the stranger’s heedless hands | |
| Their lonely graves were made; | 20 |
| But, though their clay be far away | |
| Beyond the Atlantic foam, | |
| In true men, like you, men, | |
| Their spirit’s still at home. | |
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| The dust of some is Irish earth, | 25 |
| Among their own they rest, | |
| And the same land that gave them birth | |
| Has caught them to her breast; | |
| And we will pray that from their clay | |
| Full many a race may start | 30 |
| Of true men, like you, men, | |
| To act as brave a part. | |
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| They rose in dark and evil days | |
| To right their native land; | |
| They kindled here a living blaze | 35 |
| That nothing shall withstand. | |
| Alas! that Might can vanquish Right— | |
| They fell and passed away; | |
| But true men, like you, men, | |
| Are plenty here to-day. | 40 |
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| Then here’s to their memory—may it be | |
| For us a guiding light, | |
| To hear our strife for liberty, | |
| And teach us to unite— | |
| Through good and ill, be Ireland’s still, | 45 |
| Though sad as theirs your fate, | |
| And true men, be you, men, | |
| Like those of Ninety-Eight. | |
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