O Paddy dear, and did ye hear the news that's
goin' round?
The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on
Irish ground!
Saint Patrick's Day no more we'll keep, his color
can't be seen
For there's a bloody law ag'in the
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 you
have seen
They're hanging men and women there for
the Wearin' o' the Green."
But if at last our colors should be torn
Her son's would shame and sorrow from
the dear old Isle would part
I've heard whispers of a country that
Where rich and poor stand equal in the
Oh Erin must we leave you driven by the
tyrants hand, must we ask a Mother's
welcome from a strange but happier land
Where the cruel cross of England's crown
never shall be seen and where
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(Alternative Ending)
"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