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THE ARMS OF EIGHTY-TWO.

I.

They rose to guard their fatherland—
In stern resolve they rose—
In bearing firm—in purpose grand—
To meet the world as foes.
They rose as brave men ever do;
And, flashing bright,
They bore to light
The Arms of "Eighty-two!"


II.

Oh! 'twas a proud and solemn sight
To mark that broad array,
Come forth to claim a nation's right
'Gainst all who dared gainsay;
And despots shrunk, appall'd to view
The men who bore
From shore to shore,
The Arms of "Eighty-two!"


III.

They won her right—they passed away
Within the tomb they rest—
And coldly lies the mournful clay
Above each manly breast;
But Ireland still may proudly view
What that bright host
Had cherished most—
The Arms of "Eighty-two!"


IV.

Time-honoured comrades of the brave—
Fond relics of their fame,
Does Ireland hold one coward slave
Would yield you up to shame?
One dastard who would tamely view
The alien's hand
Insulting brand
The Arms of "Eighty-two?"