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The Song Book |
283 |
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Yet, 'tis not helm or feather— For ask yon despot whether
His plumed bands
Could bring such hands And hearts as ours together. Leave pomps to those who need 'em— Adorn but man with freedom,
And proud he braves
The gaudiest slaves That crawl where monarchs lead 'em. The sword may pierce the beaver, Stone walls in time may sever,
'Tis mind alone,
Worth steel and stone, That keeps men free for ever ! O the sight entrancing, When morning's beam is glancing.
O'er files array'd
With helm and blade, And plumes in the gay wind dancing. |
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Words by Moore. Tune (from Bunting) Planxty Sudley. |
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