The Spirit of the Nation/Devil may care


Air—"The old head of Denis."

Musha, "Queen of the Sea," is it true what they say
All about the grand "speeching" you had t'other day
About Ireland, and Dan, and Repeal? I declare
I think you were bullied; but, devil may care,
They shan't bully Paddy—so devil may care.

I heard, when a boy, you were gentle and true—
That you lov'd poor old Ireland and Irishmen too—
That your heart was as just as your form was fair,
And I wished you were here; but the devil may care,
I've got my own darling—so devil may care.

And you've got young Albert, and long may you reign,
And lightsome and brightsome, and strong be the chain
That binds you together in love, now so rare
To be found at "Head Quarters;" but, devil may care,
That's a case for the lawyers—so devil may care.

But Paddy a "case" of his own has just now,
So off goes my "caubeen," and here's my best bow;
My belly is empty, my back is all bare,
I'm hungry and naked; but devil may care,
Good times are approaching—so devil may care.

"Acushla machree," we are wounded and sore,
So bad that we cannot endure it much more.
A cure we must have, though the Saxons may stare
And "curse like a trooper;" but devil may care,
"Sin fein"[1] is our watch-word—so devil may care.

Through many a century of darkness and gloom
We writhed in our sorrow and wept at our doom;
We begged and implored, but they laughed at our prayer—
The answer they gave us was—"devil may care,"
You're "mere Irish" rebels—so devil may care.

But no longer, like cowards, we'll kneel to the foe—
"Soft words they will butter no parsnips" we know;
Our rights they must give "on the nail"—"a child's share"
We claim, and must get. By St. Patrick, we swear,
We won't be put off with a "devil may care."


"Feror exul in altum."—Vir.

Adieu!—the snowy sail
Swells her bosom to the gale,
And our barque from Innisfail
Bounds away.
While we gaze upon thy shore,
That we never shall see more,
And the blinding tears flow o'er,
We pray:

Mo bournin! be thou long
In peace, the queen of song—
In battle proud and strong
As the sea!
Be saints thine offspring still—
True heroes guard each hill—
And harps by ev'ry rill
Sound free!

  1. "Sin fein"—Ourselves—or "Ourselves Alone."