III.
Now, now we'll teach the shameless Scot to purge his thievish maw,
Now, now the Court may fall to pray, for Justice is the Law,
Now, shall the Undertaker square for once his loose accounts,
We'll strike brave boys, a fair result, from all his false amounts.
IV.
Come, trample down their robber rule, and smite its venal spawn,
Their foreign laws, their foreign church, their ermine and their lawn;
And all the specious fry of fraud that robbed us of our own,
And plant our ancient laws again, beneath our lineal throne.
V.
Our standard flies from fifty towers, it leads ten thousand men,
Down have we pluck'd the pirate Red never to rise again;
The Green alone shall stream above our native field and flood—
The spotless Green, save where its folds are gemmed with Saxon blood.
VI.
Pity![1] no, no, you dare not Priest—not you our Father dare,
Preach to us now that Godless creed—the murderer's blood to spare;
To spare his blood, while tombless still our slaughtered kin implore,
"Graves and revenge" from Gobbin Cliffs and Carrick's bloody shore!
VII.
Pity! well if you needs must whine, let pity have its way,
Pity for all our comrades true, far from our side to-day;
- ↑ Leland the Protestant Historian states that the Catholic Priests "laboured zealously to moderate the excesses of war;" and frequently protected the English by concealing them in their places of worship, and even under their altars."
