Who fears to speak of Ninety-eight ? |
Who blushes at the name ? |
When cowards mock the patriots fate |
Who hangs his head for shame ? |
He's all a knave or half a slave |
Who slights his country thus |
But a true man, like you, man |
Will fill your glass with us |
----- |
We drink the memory of the brave |
The faithful and the few |
Some lie far off beyond the wave |
Some sleep in Ireland too |
All, all are gone, but still lives on |
The fame of those who died |
All true men, like you, men |
Remember them with pride |
----- |
Some on the shores of distant lands |
Their weary hearts have laid |
And by the stranger's heedless hands |
Their lonely graves were made |
But though their clay be far away |
Beyond th' Atlantic foam |
In true men, like you, men |
Their spirit's still at home |
----- |
The dust of some is Irish earth |
Among their own they rest, |
And the same land that gave them birth |
Has caught them to her breast |
And we will pray that from their clay |
Full many a race may start |
Of true men, like you, men |
To act as brave a part |
----- |
They rose in dark and evil days |
To right their native land |
They kindled here a living blaze |
That nothing shall withstand |
Alas ! that might can vanquish right |
They fell and passed away |
But true men, like you, men |
Are plenty here to-day |
----- |
Then here's their memory, may it be |
For us a guiding light |
To cheer our strife for liberty |
And teach us to unite ! |
Through good and ill, be Ireland's still |
Though sad as theirs your fate |
And true men, be you, men |
Like those of "Ninety-eight" |
----- |
John Kells Ingram |