Wearin' O' The Green
Oh paddy dear, and did you hear the news that's runnin' 'round?
The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground.
St. Patrick's Day no more we'll keep; his color can't be seen,
For there's a cruel law agin' the wearin' o' the green.
I met with Napper Tandy, and he took me by the hand,
And he says, "How's poor auld 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' o' the green.
Then if the color we must wear is England's cruel red,
Sure Ireland's sons shall ne'er forget the blood that they have shed.
You can take the shamrock from me hat, and cast it in the sod,
But 'twill take root and flourish there, though underfoot 'tis trod.
When the law can stop the blades of grass from growin' as they grow,
And when the leaves, in sumertime, their verdure dare not show,
Then I will change the color I wear in my cabin,
But 'til that day, plaise God, I'll stick to wearin' o' the green.
As performed on the recording: