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i52 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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Cries, " Get ye gone, Pat," yet consents all the while. To the priest soon they go, and a year after that A baby cries out, " How d'ye do, father Pat,. With your sprig of shillelah and shamrock so green ! "
Bless the country, say I, that gave Patrick his birth, Bless the land of the oak, and its neighbouring earth, Where grow the shillelah and shamrock so green ! May the sons of the Thames, the Tweed, and the
Shannon, Drub the foes who dare plant on our confines a
cannon; United and happy, at Loyalty's shrine, May the rose and the thistle long flourish and twine Round the sprig of shillelah and shamrock so green ! |
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