[Verse]
"Paddy dear, and did you hear the news that's going round?
The shamrock is by law forbid to grow on Irish ground,
No more St. Patrick's Day we'll keep, his colours can't be seen,
For there's a cruel law against the wearing of the green."

I met with Napper Tandy and he took me by the hand,
He says, "How's dear old Ireland and how does she stand?"
"She's the most distressful nation that I have ever seen,
For they're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green."

And since the colour we must wear is England's bloody red,
Old Ireland's sons will ne'er forget the blood that they have shed,
Then take the shamrock from your hat and cast it on the sod,
It will take root and flourish though still underfoot it's trod.

When law can stop the blades of grass from growing as they grow,
And when the leaves in summertime their verdure does not show,
Then I'll change the colour I wear in my caubeen,
But till that day, please God, I'll stick to the wearing of the green.

If at last her colour should be torn from Ireland's heart,
Her sons with shame and sorrow from the dear soil will part,
I've heard a whisper of a nation that lies beyond the seas,
Where rich and poor stand equal in the light of freedom's day.

Oh Ireland, must we leave you, driven by a tyrant's hand,
And seek a mother's blessing in a strange and foreign land,
Where the cruel cross of England they are never known to be seen,
But we'll thank God and live and die still wearing Ireland's green,
But we'll thank God and live and die still wearing Ireland's green.