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 We . . . are no petty people. We are one of the great stocks of 
Burke; we are read more 
 We . . . are no petty people. We are one of the great stocks of 
Burke; we are the people of Swift, the people of Emmet, the 
people of Parnell. We have created most of the modern literature 
of this country. We have created the best of its political 
intelligence. 
There is no language like the Irish for soothing and quieting.
There is no language like the Irish for soothing and quieting.
 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. 
 Dear Erin, how sweetly thy green bosom rises!
 An emerald set in the ring of the sea.
  read more 
 Dear Erin, how sweetly thy green bosom rises!
 An emerald set in the ring of the sea.
  Each blade of thy meadows my faithful heart prizes,
   Thou queen of the west, the world's cushla ma chree. 
 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. 
 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. 
 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. 
 Whether on the scaffold high
 Or on the battle-field we die,
  Oh, what matter, when for Erin read more 
 Whether on the scaffold high
 Or on the battle-field we die,
  Oh, what matter, when for Erin dear we fall. 
 When Erin first rose from the dark-swelling flood,
 God blessed the green island, he saw it was good.
 read more 
 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.