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| O PADDY 1 dear, an’ did you hear the news that ’s goin’ round? | |
| The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground; | |
| St. Patrick’s Day no more we ’ll keep; his colors can’t be seen: | |
| For there ’s a cruel law agin’ the wearin’ of the green. | |
| I met with Napper Tandy, and he tuk me by the hand, | 5 |
| And he said, “How ’s poor ould Ireland, and how does she stand?” | |
| She ’s the most distressful country that ever yet was seen: | |
| They are hangin’ men and women there for wearin’ of the green. | |
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| An’ if the color we must wear is England’s cruel red, | |
| Sure Ireland’s sons will ne’er forget the blood that they have shed. | 10 |
| Then pull the shamrock from your hat and cast it on the sod, | |
| And never fear, ’t will take root there, though under foot ’t is trod. | |
| When law can stop the blades of grass from growin’ as they grow, | |
| And when the leaves in summer-time their color dare not show, | |
| Then I will change the color, too, I wear in my caubeen; | 15 |
| But till that day, please God, I ’ll stick to wearin’ of the green. | |
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| But if at last our color should be torn from Ireland’s heart, | |
| Her sons with shame and sorrow from the dear old isle will part: | |
| I ’ve heard a whisper of a land that lies beyond the sea, | |
| Where rich and poor stand equal in the light of freedom’s day. | 20 |
| O Erin, must we leave you, driven by a tyrant’s hand? | |
| Must we ask a mother’s blessin’ from a strange and distant land? | |
| Where the cruel cross of England shall nevermore be seen, | |
| And where, please God, we ’ll live and die still wearin’ of the green. | |
