Wearin' of the Green
Words and Music by : Traditional
Oh! Paddy dear, and did you hear, the news that's goin' round.
The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground;
St. Patrick's day no more we'll keep, His color can't be seen,
For there's a cruel law agin' the wearin' of the green.
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 hangin' men and women there for wearin' of the green.
Then since the color we must wear, is England's cruel red,
Sure Ireland's sons will ne'er forget the blood that they have shed.
You may take the shamrock from your hat, and cast it in the sod,
But 'twill take root and flourish still, tho' underfoot 'tis trod.
When the law can stop the blades of grass from growin' as they grow,
And when the leaves in summertime their verdure dare not show,
Then I will change the color I wear in my Caubeen,
But 'till that day, I'll stick for aye to wearin' of the green.
But if at last our color should be torn from Ireland's heart,
Her sons with shame and sorrow from the dear old soil will part.
I've heard whisper of a country that lies far beyond the say.
Where rich and poor stand equal, in the light of freedom's day;
Oh, Erin must we leave you, driven by the tyrant's hand?
Must we ask a mother's welcome from a strange but happy land?
Where the cruel cross of England's thralsdom never shall be seen,
And where, in peace, we'll live and die, a-wearin' of the green.
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