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There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and read more
There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill;
For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing.
To wander along by the wind-beaten hill.
But the day star attracted his eyes' sad devotion,
For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean,
Where once in the fire of his youthful emotion
He sang the bold anthem of Erin-go-bragh.
There is a stone there,
That whoever kisses,
Oh! he never misses
To grow read more
There is a stone there,
That whoever kisses,
Oh! he never misses
To grow eloquent.
'Tis he may clamber
To a lady's chamber
Or become a member
Of Parliament.
The dust of some is Irish earth,
Among their own they rest.
The dust of some is Irish earth,
Among their own they rest.
For dear is the Emerald Isle of the ocean,
Whose daughters are fair as the foam of the wave,
read more
For dear is the Emerald Isle of the ocean,
Whose daughters are fair as the foam of the wave,
Whose sons unaccustom'd to rebel commotion,
Tho' joyous, are sober--tho' peaceful, are brave.
Th' an'am an Dhia, but there it is--
The dawn on the hills of Ireland.
God's angels read more
Th' an'am an Dhia, but there it is--
The dawn on the hills of Ireland.
God's angels lifting the night's black veil
From the fair sweet face of my sireland!
O Ireland, isn't it grand, you look
Like a bride in her rich adornin',
And with all the pent up love of my heart
I bid you the top of the morning.
Every Irishman has a potatoe in his head.
Every Irishman has a potatoe in his head.
O, love is the soul of a true Irishman;
He loves all that's lovely, loves all that he can,
read more
O, love is the soul of a true Irishman;
He loves all that's lovely, loves all that he can,
With his sprig of shillelagh and shamrock so green.
When anyone asks me about the Irish character, I say look at the
trees. Maimed, stark and misshapen, but read more
When anyone asks me about the Irish character, I say look at the
trees. Maimed, stark and misshapen, but ferociously tenacious.
An Irishman's heart is nothing but his imagination.
An Irishman's heart is nothing but his imagination.