O Paddy
dear, and did ye hear the news that's goin'
round?
The shamrock is by law forbid to grow on Irish
ground!
No more Saint Patrick's Day we'll keep, his
color can't be seen
For there's a cruel law ag'in the Wearin' o' 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
For they're hanging men and women there for the
Wearin' o' the Green."
"So
if the color we must wear be England's cruel red
Let it remind us of the blood that Irishmen have
shed
And pull the shamrock from your hat, and throw
it on the sod
But never fear, 'twill take root there, though
underfoot 'tis trod.
When
laws 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
But till that day, please God, I'll stick to the
Wearin' o' the Green."
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