Air - 'St. Patrick's Day in the Morning.'
Wake, Irishman, wake, let your slumbers be over,
Our children will look to our day when we're gone,
The clouds and thick darkness now o'er us may hover,
The sun will yet shine on fair Erin!

Strong is the arm that is stretched out to save us,
High is the rock where our confidence rests,
It is not in man, with his worst threats, to brave us,
Then Irishmen, wake! let your slumbers be over,
Our children will look to our day when we're gone,
Tho' clouds and thick darkness now o'er us may hover,
The sun will yet shine on fair Erin!

What will numbers avail, when their strength is departed?
The bread sent from Heaven, they trample it down;
Our birthright - our portion - yet dark and cold-hearted
They starve the poor sons of fair Erin.

Shall Irishmen, bold as the king of the forest,
And free as the eagle that soars in the sky, -
Black slavery abhorring, - bow down to the
sorest?

No - sons of old Ireland, too long kept in blindness,
High Heaven itself sends glad tidings to you;
Claim your Bibles, you'll find them all love and all kindness,
The joy and the peace of fair Erin!

We love you as men, - and as brothers we love you,
Our hearts long to free you from Popery's hard chain;
For the sake of your undying souls, we would move you,
To know the
true
friends of fair Erin.

Come better, come worse, we will never surrender,
For the cause that our forefathers stood we will stand;
To the last drop of blood our own Isle we'll defend her.
Then Irishmen, rise! let your slumbers be over;
Our children will look to our day when we're gone;
Tho' clouds and thick darkness now o'er us may hover,
The sun will yet shine on fair Erin!