Deep in Canadian woods we've met, from one bright island flown,
Great is the land we tread, but yet our hearts are with our own.
And here we leave this shanty small, while fades the autumn day,
We'll toast old Ireland, dear old Ireland, Ireland boys, hurrah!
[chorus]
Ireland boys hurrah! Ireland boys hurrah!
We'll toast old Ireland, dear old Ireland, Ireland boys hurrah!
We've heard her faults a hundred times, the new ones and the old.
In songs and sermons, rants and rhymes, enlarged some fifty-fold.
But take them all, the great and small, and this we've got to say,
"Here's dear old Ireland! Good old Ireland! Ireland boys, hurrah!"
We know that brave and good men tried, to snap her rusty chain.
The patriots suffered, martyrs died, and all, 'tis in vain,
But no, boys, no! A glance will show how far they've won their way -
Here's good old Ireland! Loved old Ireland! Ireland boys, hurrah!
We've seen the wedding and the wake, the patron and the fair;
And lithe young frames at the dear old games in the kindly Irish air.
And the loud, 'Hurroo', we have heard it too, and a thundering, "Clear the way!"
Here's gay old Ireland! Dear old Ireland! Ireland boys, hurrah!
And well we know in cool grey eyes, when the hard day's work is o'er,
How soft and sweet are the words that greet the friends who meet once more,
With, "Mary Machree" and "My Pat, 'tis he!" and "My own heart night and day,"
Ah, fond old Ireland! Dear old Ireland! Ireland boys, hurrah!
And happy and bright are the groups that pass, from their peaceful homes for miles
O'er fields and roads and hills to Mass, when Sunday morning smiles!
And deep in the zeal their true hearts feel, when low they kneel and pray,
Oh dear old Ireland! Blest old Ireland! Ireland boys, hurrah!
But deep in Canadian woods, we've met and we never may see again
The dear old isle where our hearts are set, and our first fond hopes remain!
But come, fill up another cup, and with every sup let's say,
"Here's loved old Ireland! Good old Ireland! Ireland boys, hurrah!"
Great is the land we tread, but yet our hearts are with our own.
And here we leave this shanty small, while fades the autumn day,
We'll toast old Ireland, dear old Ireland, Ireland boys, hurrah!
[chorus]
Ireland boys hurrah! Ireland boys hurrah!
We'll toast old Ireland, dear old Ireland, Ireland boys hurrah!
We've heard her faults a hundred times, the new ones and the old.
In songs and sermons, rants and rhymes, enlarged some fifty-fold.
But take them all, the great and small, and this we've got to say,
"Here's dear old Ireland! Good old Ireland! Ireland boys, hurrah!"
We know that brave and good men tried, to snap her rusty chain.
The patriots suffered, martyrs died, and all, 'tis in vain,
But no, boys, no! A glance will show how far they've won their way -
Here's good old Ireland! Loved old Ireland! Ireland boys, hurrah!
We've seen the wedding and the wake, the patron and the fair;
And lithe young frames at the dear old games in the kindly Irish air.
And the loud, 'Hurroo', we have heard it too, and a thundering, "Clear the way!"
Here's gay old Ireland! Dear old Ireland! Ireland boys, hurrah!
And well we know in cool grey eyes, when the hard day's work is o'er,
How soft and sweet are the words that greet the friends who meet once more,
With, "Mary Machree" and "My Pat, 'tis he!" and "My own heart night and day,"
Ah, fond old Ireland! Dear old Ireland! Ireland boys, hurrah!
And happy and bright are the groups that pass, from their peaceful homes for miles
O'er fields and roads and hills to Mass, when Sunday morning smiles!
And deep in the zeal their true hearts feel, when low they kneel and pray,
Oh dear old Ireland! Blest old Ireland! Ireland boys, hurrah!
But deep in Canadian woods, we've met and we never may see again
The dear old isle where our hearts are set, and our first fond hopes remain!
But come, fill up another cup, and with every sup let's say,
"Here's loved old Ireland! Good old Ireland! Ireland boys, hurrah!"