Arm of Erin, prove strong, but be gentle as brave,
And, uplifted to strike, still be ready to save;
read more

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.

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.

Every Irishman has a potatoe in his head.

Every Irishman has a potatoe in his head.

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.

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.

Why should Ireland be treated as a geographical fragment of
England . . . Ireland is not a geographical read more

Why should Ireland be treated as a geographical fragment of
England . . . Ireland is not a geographical fragment, but a
nation.

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.

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.

When law can stop the blades of grass from growing as they grow;
And when the leaves in Summer-time read more

When law can stop the blades of grass from growing as they grow;
And when the leaves in Summer-time their colour dare not show;
Then will I change the colour too, I wear in my caubeen;
But till that day, plaze God, I'll stick to wearin' o' the Green.