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Hail, honour and pride of the Emerald Isle!
How envied the mead that will ever be thine!
The laurel of fame, and humanity's smile,
To grace thee, shall always together combine.
The soldier, worn down by war's strife and turmoil,
No longer's left cheerless and friendless to roam;
For the rest of his age may be grateful to Doyle,
For the sweets of his hearth, and the peace of his home.
