| They say that the lakes of Killarney are fair
|
| That no stream like the Liffey can ever compare,
|
| If its water you want, you’ll find nothing more rare
|
| Than the stuff they make down by the ocean.
|
| The sea, oh the sea is the gradh geal mo croide
|
| Long may it stay between England and me
|
| It’s a sure guarantee that some hour we’ll be free
|
| Oh, thank God we’re surrounded by water.
|
| Tom Moore made his «Waters"meet fame and renown
|
| A great lover of anything dressed in a crown
|
| In brandy the bandy old Saxon he1d drown
|
| But throw ne’er a one in the ocean.
|
| The Scots have their Whisky, the Welsh have their speech
|
| And their poets are paid about ten pence a week
|
| Provided no hard words on England they speak
|
| Oh Lord, what a price for devotion.
|
| The Danes came to Ireland with nothing to do
|
| But dream of the plundered old Irish they slew,
|
| «Yen will in yer Vikings"said Brian Boru
|
| And threw them back into the ocean.
|
| Two foreign old monarchs in battle did join
|
| Each wanting his head on the back of a coin;
|
| If the Irish had sense they’d drowned both in the Boyne
|
| And partition thrown into the ocean. |