For dear is the Emerald Isle of the ocean,
Whose daughters are fair as the foam of the wave,
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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.

Arm of Erin, prove strong, but be gentle as brave,
And, uplifted to strike, still be ready to save;
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Arm of Erin, prove strong, but be gentle as brave,
And, uplifted to strike, still be ready to save;
Not one feeling of vengeance presume to defile
The cause or the men of the Emerald Isle.

Old Dublin City there is no doubtin'
Bates every city upon the say.
'Tis there you'd hear read more

Old Dublin City there is no doubtin'
Bates every city upon the say.
'Tis there you'd hear O'Connell spoutin'
And Lady Morgan making tay.
For 'tis the capital of the finest nation,
With charmin' pisintry upon a fruitful sod,
Fightin' like devils for conciliation,
And hatin' each other for the Love of God.

The dust of some is Irish earth,
Among their own they rest.

The dust of some is Irish earth,
Among their own they rest.

When Erin first rose from the dark-swelling flood,
God blessed the green island, he saw it was good.
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When Erin first rose from the dark-swelling flood,
God blessed the green island, he saw it was good.
The Emerald of Europe, it sparkled and shone
In the ring of this world, the most precious stone.

If one could only teach the English how to talk, and the Irish
how to listen, society would be read more

If one could only teach the English how to talk, and the Irish
how to listen, society would be quite civilized.

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.

The groves of Blarney
They look so charming
Down by the purling
Of sweet, read more

The groves of Blarney
They look so charming
Down by the purling
Of sweet, silent brooks.