| First Line |
Page |
Verses |
| Unfold, Father Time, thy long records unfould |
5-6 |
8 |
| See! bright Liberty descending |
6-7 |
4 |
| Great reformation, approach'ng, we hail!, Yhe |
7-8 |
4 |
| |
8 |
|
| |
8 |
|
| |
9 |
|
| |
10 |
|
| |
11 |
|
| |
11-13 |
|
| Our fathers left a race of kings |
13 |
3 |
| No longer lost in shades of night |
13-14 |
7 |
| Assembled in our country's cause |
14-15 |
8 |
| Rector I am, pray mind what I say, A |
16-17 |
12 |
| My jovial friends with social glee |
17-18 |
3 |
| Again, O ye spirits, who feel for mankind |
18-19 |
4 |
| Negro with desponding heart, The |
19-20 |
4 |
| O'er the vine cover'd hills and gay regions of Franc [sic] |
20-21 |
5 |
| Why vainly do we waste our time |
22 |
4 |
| Let farmers praise their grounds |
23 |
5 |
| Give me the man whose dauntless soul |
24-25 |
5 |
| Ye sons of France, awake to glory |
25-26 |
4 |
| When first the great Senate of Frenchmen agreed |
26-27 |
6 |
| Forc'd from home, all its pleasures |
27-28 |
5 |
| Be easy with war! here's a fine piece of bother on't |
29-30 |
8 |
| Grand juries those time serving knaves |
31-32 |
8 |
| Come, come, my countrymen advance |
32-33 |
3 |
| |
33 |
|
| |
35 |
|
| |
36-38 |
|
| While landsmen wander uncontroul'd |
38-39 |
6 |
| Arrah, paddy my joy |
39-40 |
|
| O'er my toil-weather'd limbs sickly langours and shed |
40-41 |
4 |
| Good people hear my story |
41-42 |
3 |
| Sweet Freedom, on celestial wing |
42-43 |
3 |
| Ye vile swinish herd, in the stye of taxation |
43-44 |
8 |
| Come Freedom's chosen band |
44-45 |
5 |
| 'Twas in the year of Ninety-three |
46-47 |
5 |
| Ye men of Ireland, hail the day |
47 |
3 |
| Sure, Master John Bull, I shan't know till I'm dead |
48-49 |
7 |
| When beating tempests waste the plains |
49 |
4 |
| Gallant nation, foes no more |
50 |
6 |
| While Europe resounds with the clangour of arms [sic] |
51 |
5 |
| Come, ye lads! who wish to shine |
51-52 |
5 |
| Hibernia's sons, the patriot band |
52-53 |
3 |
| Go patter to placemen and pimps d' ye see |
53-55 |
4 |
| Peter, and Martin, and John they all |
55 |
3 |
| Come let us prepare, we statesmen that are |
55-57 |
7 |
| Brave Irish no longer inactive remain |
57 |
2 |
| In times of yore, when heroe's fought |
58 |
5 |
| Now the fields, and ev'ry grove |
59 |
3 |
| America! thou lovely nation |
59-60 |
5 |
| Descend, sweet Liberty, descend |
60-61 |
3 |
| Since the minions of power, to keep mortals still blind |
61-63 |
5 |
| Oh why should weak deluded man |
63-64 |
4 |
| Rise, ye sons of Granu rise |
64-65 |
4 |
| While tyranny marshals his minions around [sic] |
65 |
3 |
| Gallia burst her vile shackles on this glorious day |
66 |
4 |
| |
67 |
|
| |
68 |
|