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(414) Page 240 - O'Byrne's bard to the clans of Wicklow

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(240) Page 240 - O'Byrne's bard to the clans of Wicklow
240 OF IRELAND.
The scarlet soldiers pass along—
They'd like, but fear to rail —
Hjs blood is hot, his blow is strong-
The Boatman of Kinsale.
His hooker's in the Scilly van,
When seines are in the foam ;
But money never made the man,
Nor wealth a happy home.
So, blest with love and liberty,
Wliile he can trim a sail,
He'll trust in God, and cling to me-
The Boatman of Kinsale.
O'BYENE'S BARD TO THE GLANS OF WICK-
LOW.
TRANSLATED FROM THE nilSH,
BY S. FERGUSON, M.R.I.A.
God be with the Irish host
Never be their battle lost !
For, in battle, never yet
Have they basely earned defeat.
Host of armour, red and bright,
May ye fight a valiant fight I
For the green spot of the earth,
For the land that gave you birth.
Who in Erin's cause would stand,
Brother of the avenging band.
He must wed immortal quarrel,
Pain and sweat and bloody peril.

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