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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 133 |
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This dear little plant that springs from our soil,
When its three little leaves are extended, Denotes from one stalk we together should toil,
And ourselves by ourselves be befriended ; Anil still through the bog, through the brake, through
the mireland, From one root should branch, like the shamrock of Ireland, The sweet little shamrock, the dear little shamrock, The sweet little, green little, shamrock of Ireland. |
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TOM MOODY
Y
OU all knew Tom Moody, the whipper-in, well; The bell just done tolling was honest Tom's knell; A more able sportsman ne'er followed a hound, Through a country well known to him fifty miles round. No hound ever opened with Tom near the wood But he'd challenge the tone, and could tell if 'twere
good; And all with attention would eagerly mark, When he cheered up the pack. " Hark ! to Rook-wood, hark! hark!
High !—wind him ! and cross him; Now, Rattler, boy !—Hark ! "
Six crafty earth-stoppers, in hunter's green drest, Supported poor Tom to an " earth " made for rest; His horse, which he styled his Old Soul, next appeared, On whose forehead the brush of the last fox was reared; |
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