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You brave young sons of Erin's Isle |
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I hope you will attend awhile |
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'Tis the wrongs of dear old Ireland I am going to relate |
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'Twas black and cursed was the day |
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When our parliament was taken away |
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And all of our griefs and sufferings commences from that day |
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For our hardy sons and daughters fair |
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To other countries must repair |
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And leave their native land behind in sorrow to deplore |
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Fo seek employment they must roam |
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Far, far away from the native home |
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From that sore, oppressed island that they call the shamrock shore |
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Now Ireland is with plenty blessed |
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But the people, we are sore oppressed |
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All by those cursed tyrants we are forced for to obey |
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Some haughty landlords for to please |
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Our houses and our lands they'll seize |
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To put fifty farms into one and take us all away |
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Regardless of the widow's sighs |
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The mother's tears and orphan's cries |
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In thousands we were driven from home which grieves my heart full sore |
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We were forced by famine and disease |
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To emigrate across the seas |
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From that sore, opressed island that they called the shamrock shore |
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Our sustenance all taken away |
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The tithes and taxes for to pay |
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To support that law-protected church to which they do adhere |
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And our Irish gentry, well you know |
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To other countries they do go |
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And the money from old Ireland they squandered here and there |
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For if our squires would stay at home |
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And not to other countries roam |
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But to build mills and factories here to employ the laboring poor |
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For if we had trade and commerce here |
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To me no nation could compare |
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To that sore, oppressed island that they call the shamrock shore |
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John Bull, he boasts, he laughs with scorn |
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And he says that Irishman is born |
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To be always discontented for at home we cannot agree |
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But we'll banish the tyrants from our land |
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And in harmony like sisters stand |
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To demand the rights of Ireland, let us all united be |
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And our parliament in College Green |
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For to assemble, it will be seen |
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And happy days in Erin's Isle we soon will have once more |
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And dear old Ireland soon will be |
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A great and glorious country |
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And peace and blessings soon will smile all around the shamrock shore |