[Chorus]
The wearing of the green, for the wearing of the green,
They're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green.

[Verse]
"Oh, Paddy dear, ah, did you hear the news that's going round?
The shamrock is forbid by laws to grow on Irish ground,
St. Patrick's Day no more we keep, his colour 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 me, "How's poor old Ireland and how does she stand?"
"It's the most distressful country that you have ever seen,
For they're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green."

[Chorus]
For the wearing of the green, for the wearing of the green,
They're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green.

[Verse]
And since the colour we must wear is England's cruel 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 there though underfoot it's trod.

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

[Chorus]
For the wearing of the green, for the wearing of the green,
They're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green.

[Verse]
But if at last our colour should be torn from Ireland's heart,
Her sons with shame and sorrow from the dear old isle will part,
I've heard whispers of a country that lies beyond the sea,
Where rich and poor stand equal in the light of freedom's day.

Old Erin, we must leave you, driven by the tyrant's hand,
We ask a mother's blessing from the strange and distant land,
Where the cruel cross of England shall never more be seen,
And where, please God, we live and die while wearing of green.

[Chorus]
For the wearing of the green, for the wearing of the green,
They're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green.

[Verse]
Oh, may the wind of freedom, soon send young Boney o'er,
We'll pant the tree of liberty upon our shamrock shore,
We'll plant it with out weapons while the English tyrants scream,
To see their bloody flag flown down to Ireland's flag of green.

Oh, I care not for the thistle and I care not for the rose
When hunger winds around us neither Crown nor thistle shows
Like hope to him that's friendless while no joy around is seen
Our graves, with love that's endless, blooms our immortal green.

[Chorus]
For the wearing of the green, for the wearing of the green,
They're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green.

[Chorus]
The wearing of the green, for the wearing of the green,
They're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green.