I'm indepindent now myself, and have no work to do,
Until the day when Ireland is indepindent too.

"A day will come," says Blarnigan, "when tyranny's o'erthrown--
Just hould the rint a year or so, and all the land's your own!"
Well, 'tis not for the likes of me to question what they say,
But it's starved we'll be before we see that great and glorious day!

This fighting against tyranny's a splendid kind of thrade,
For thim that goes to London for't, and gets their tickets paid!
I'm loafing on the road myself, an' sorra know I know
What way I'll live the winter through, an' where on earth I'll go.

Oh, wanst I was a tinant, an' I wisht I was one still,
With my cow an' pig an' praties, an' my cabin on the hill!
Now it's to New York City that I'll have to cross the sea,
And all because I held my rint to set the counthry free.




THE PATRIOTS "POME" (1890)

Ye shanties so airy of New Tipperary,
With walls and with floors of the national mud,
Where the home of the freeman mocks Tyranny's demon,
And the landlord and agent are nipped in the bud!

No Saxon may venture those precincts to enter,
He is barred from their portals by Liberty's ban,