Wearing of the Green.

The following is the celebrated song which created such intense excitement throughout Great Britain, and for the incorporation of which in his piece, Mr. Bourcicault' play of "Arrah na Pogue," had to be withdrawn from the London stage.

I.

Oh, Paddy, dear, an'did you hear the news thats goin round?

The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground.

No more St. Patrick's day well keep, his color cant be seen,

For there's a bloody law agin the wearin of the green.

I met with Napper Tandy, and he tuk me by the hand,

And he said, how's poor ould Ireland, and how does she stand?

"She's the most distressful country that ever you have seen,

They're hangin men and women there for wearin of the green."

II.

Then since the color we must wear is England's cruel red,

Sure Ireland's sons will neer forget the blood that they have shed.

You may take the shamrock from your hat and cast it on the sod,

It will take root and flourish there, though 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 corbeen,

But till that day, plaze God, I'll stick to wearin of the green.

III.

But if at last our color should be torn from Ireland's heart,

Her sons with shame and sorrow from the dear ould soil will part.

I've heard whisper of a country that lies far beyant the say,

Where rich and poor stand equal in the light of freedom's day.

Oh, Erin, must we lave you, driven by the tyrant's hand,

Must we ask a mother—s welcome from a strange but happier land,

Where the cruel cross of England's thraldom never shall be seen,

And where, thank God, we'll live and die, still wearin of the green.

END OF THE SONG