Oh! Paddy dear, and did you hear the news that's going ‘round?
The Shamrock has been forbid to grow on Irish ground!
St. Patrick's day no more we'll keep, his color can't be seen
For there's a bloody law against the Wearing of the Green!
I met with Napper Tandy and he took me by the hand
He asked How is poor Ireland, and how does she stand?
She's the most distressful country that you have ever seen
They're hanging men and women for the Wearing of the Green!
And if the color we should wear is England's cruel red
Then Ireland's sons will not forget the blood that has been shed
You can take the Shamrock from your hat, and throw it on the sod
It will take root, and flourish still, tho' under foot 'tis trod
When the law can stop the blades of grass from growing as they grow
And when the leaves in Summer time, their verdure dare not show
Then I will change the color I wear in my caubeen
Until that day I'll stick aye to Wearing of the Green!
And if that color should be torn from dear auld Ireland's heart
Her sons with shame and sorrow, from the dear auld soil depart
I've heard whisper of a land that lies beyond sea
Where rich and poor stand equal, in the light of Freedom's day!
O Erin! must we leave this place driven by a tyrant's hand?
Must we ask a Mother's blessing, in a strange and foreign land?
Where the cruel Cross of England's thralldom never shall be seen
Well thank God we can live and die, still Wearing of the Green!

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