THE ANTI-IRISH IRISHMAN
From polar seas to torrid climes,
Where'er the trace of man is found,
What common feeling marks our kind,
And sanctifies each spot of ground?
What virtue in the human heart
The proudest tribute can command?
The dearest, purest, holiest, best,
The lasting love of Fatherland!
Then who's the wretch that basely spurns
The ties of country, kindred, friends—
That barters every nobler aim
For sordid views—for private ends?
One slave alone on earth you'll find
Through Nature's universal span,
So lost to virtue—dead to shame,
The anti-Irish Irishman
Our fields are fertile, rich our floods,
Our mountains bold, majestic, grand;
Our air is balm, and every breeze
Wings health around our native land.
But who despises all her charms,
And mocks her gifts where'er he can?
Why, he, the Norman's sneaking slave,
The anti-Irish Irishman.
The Norman—spawn of fraud and guile!
Ambitious sought our peaceful shore,
And, leagued with native guilt, despoiled,
And deluged Erin's fields with gore!
Who gave the foe-man footing here?
What wretch unholy led her van?
The prototype of modern slaves,
An anti-Irish Irishman!
For ages rapine ruled our plains,
And slaughter raised "his red right hand,"
And virgins shriek'd!—and roof-trees blaz'd!
And desolation swept the land!
And who would not those ills arrest,
Or aid the patriotic plan
To burst his country's galling chains?
The anti-Irish Irishman!
But now too great for fetters grown,
Too proud to bend a slavish knee,
Loved Erin mocks the tyrant's thrall,
And firmly vows she shall be free!
But mark yon treacherous stealthy knave
That bends beneath his country's ban;
Nor let him dash a nation's hopes,
The anti-Irish Irishman!
Hurrah! "the sun burst!"—Once again
Our oriflamme is on the gale,
With shamrock wreaths encircling
The blazon'd glorious words "Repeal!"
The coward slave that quits his post,
Let Argus eyes the traitor scan,
And infamy, eternal, brand
The anti-Irish Irishman!