Through many a century of darkness and gloom
We writhed in our sorrow and wept at our doom;
We begged and implored, but they laughed at our prayer—
The answer they gave us was—"devil may care,"
You're "mere Irish" rebels—so devil may care.
But no longer, like cowards, we'll kneel to the foe—
"Soft words they will butter no parsnips" we know;
Our rights they must give "on the nail"—"a child's share"
We claim, and must get. By St. Patrick, we swear,
We won't be put off with a "devil may care."
ADIEU TO INNISFAIL.
"Feror exul in altum."—Vir.
Adieu!—the snowy sail
Swells her bosom to the gale,
And our barque from Innisfail
Bounds away.
While we gaze upon thy shore,
That we never shall see more,
And the blinding tears flow o'er,
We pray:
Mo bournin! be thou long
In peace, the queen of song—
In battle proud and strong
As the sea!
Be saints thine offspring still—
True heroes guard each hill—
And harps by ev'ry rill
Sound free!
