The German burgher and his men, brother with brothers live,
While toil must wait without your gate what gracious crusts you give.
Long in your sight, for our own right, we've bent and still we bend—
Why did we bow? why do we now? my masters, this must end.
VI.
Perish the past—a generous land is this fair land of ours,
And enmity may no man see between its Towns and Towers.
Come join our bands—here take our hands—now shame on him that lingers,
Merchant or Peer, you have no fear from labour's blistered fingers.
Come, join at last, perish the past—its traitors, its seceders—
Proud names and old, frank hearts and bold, come join and be our Leaders.
But know, my lords, that he your swords with us or with our Wronger,
Heaven be our guide, we Toilers bide this lot of shame no longer!
SONG OF THE VOLUNTEERS OF 1782.
Air—"Boyne Water."
I.
Hurrah! 'tis done—our freedom's won—
Hurrah for the Volunteers!
No laws we own, but those alone
Of our Commons, King, and Peers.
II.
The chain is broke—the Saxon yoke
From off our neck is taken;
Ireland awoke—Dungannon spoke—
With fear was England shaken.
