Song. Patrick's Day

Ye sons of Hibernia give ear to my story, Without either scoffing or scorning; I'll tell you a-gra about poor Paddy's glory That happen'd the other morning; You may bless yourselves over, Ten thousand times over, A sight so amazing your eyes to behold; I swear by the mass of St. Patrick's Cross, Since the days of Beneaden, his granny or grand dad, With eyes full of staring and blaring, I'm a son of a w—e if e're saw before, Such a Patricks day in the morning.

To St. Patrick's Cathedral we all did assemble, The heads of the whole Irish Nation, Like Gods under Jupiter we did resemble, So dress'd out on this grand occasion; So with hearts full of cheer, We advanc'd without fear, Resolving whatever might hapen us there, To take poor Paddy's part With a true Irish heart, And shew to their foes that in spite of their noses, Tho' H—ll and English power combining, Our Oak saplin shall fly Tho' the D—l be by, On a Patrick's day in the morning,

Old Ireland God bless her for ever and ever, Ressolved to her cause to be steady, The United Knot, she tied yesterday clever, In making us all Sons of Paddy, So let Irish hearts Now act their own parts, Who never was counted ungrateful; But with shouts and huzzas Give old Ireland applause, Our glasses we'll trim, flowing high to the brim, While Shamrocks our hats are adorning; Now my stout Irish boys with a hearty good cheer, Welcome Patrick's day in the morning.