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On the Green Hills of Ulster the White Cross waves high |
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And the beacon of war throws its flames to the sky |
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Now the taunt and the threat let the cowards endure |
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Our hope is in God and in Rory O'Moore |
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Do you ask why the beacon and banner of war |
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On the mountains of Ulster is seen from afar |
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'Tis the signal our rights to regain and secure |
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Through God and our country and Rory O'Moore |
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On the Green Hills of Ulster the White Cross waves high |
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And the beacon of war throws its flames to the sky |
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Now the taunt and the threat let the cowards endure |
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Our hope is in God and in Rory O'Moore |
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And his country, his kindred, his faith would abjure |
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We'll strike for old Ireland and Rory O'Moore |
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For the merciless Scots with their greed and their swords |
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With war in their bosoms and peace in their words |
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Have sworn the bright light of our faith to obscure |
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But our hope is in God and in Rory O'Moore |
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Oh lives there the traitor who'd shrink from the strife |
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Who would add to the length of his forfeited life |
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And his country, his kindred, his faith would abjure |
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No we'll strike for old Ireland and Rory O'Moore |
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On the Green Hills of Ulster the White Cross waves high |
|
And the beacon of war throws its flames to the sky |
|
Now the taunt and the threat let the cowards endure |
|
Our hope is in God and in Rory O'Moore |
|
And his country, his kindred, his faith would abjure |
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No we'll strike for old Ireland and Rory O'Moore |