From The Cabinet of Irish Literature, Volume 2, edited by Charles A. Read.
Our Island
May God, in whose hand
Is the lot of each land--
Who rules over ocean and dry land--
Inspire our good king
From
his presence to fling
Ill advisers who'd ruin our island.
Don't we feel 'tis our dear
native island!
A fertile and fine little
island!
May Orange and Green
No longer be seen
Bestain'd with the blood of our
island.
The fair ones we prize
Declare they despise
Those who'd make it a slavish and vile land;
Be their smiles our
reward,
And we'll gallantly guard
All the rights and delights of our island--
For, oh! 'tis a lovely green
island!
Bright beauties adorn our dear
island!
At St. Patrick's command
Vipers quitted our land--
But he's wanted again in our
island!
For her interest and pride,
We oft fought by the side
Of England, that haughty and high land;
Nay, we'd do so again,
If she'd let us remain
A free and a flourishing island--
But she, like a crafty and sly
land,
Dissension excites in our
island,
And, our feuds to adjust,
She would lay in the dust
All the freedom and strength of
our island.
A few years ago--
Though now she says no--
We agreed with that surly and sly land,
That each, as a
friend,
Should the other defend,
And the crown be the link of each island:
'Twas the final state-bond of
each island;
Independence we swore to each
island.
Are we grown so absurd
As to credit her word,
When she's breaking her oath
with our island?
Let us steadily stand
By our king and our land,
And it sha'n't be a slavish or vile land;
Nor impudent Pitt
Unpunished commit
An attempt on the rights of our island.
Each voice should resound
through our island--
You're my neighbour, but, Bull,
this is my land!
Nature's favourite spot--
And I'd sooner be shot
Than surrender the rights of
our island!
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The
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Sweet
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Kitty
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