Wearing Of The Green
Oh Paddy dear, and did ye hear the news that's going round? The shamrock is by law forbid to grow on Irish ground, St. Patrick's Day no more we'll keep, his color can't be seen, For there's a cruel law agin the wearing of the green. I met wid Napper Tandy and he took me by the hand, And he said, how's dear old Ireland, and how does she stand? She's the most distressful country that ever yet was seen, For they're hanging men and women there for the wearing of the green. Then since the color we must wear is England's cruel red, Sure Ireland's sons will never forget the blood that they have shed, You may take a shamrock from your hat and cast it on the sod, It will take root and flourish there though underfoot it's trod. When law can stop the blades of grass from growing as they grow, And when the leaves in summertime their color dare not show, Then will I change the color, too, I wear in my caubeen But till that day, please God, I'll stick to wearing of the green. 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. O Erin, must we leave you driven by a tyrant's hand? Must we ask a mother's blessing 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 wearing of the green! Written By Boucicault In 1864. Erin go bragh! Ireland Forever!
