They say that the lakes of Killarney are fair
That no stream like the Liffey
can ever compare
If it´s water you want you´ll find nothing more rare
Than the stuff they make down by the ocean.
sea, oh the sea is the gradh geal mo croide
Long may it stay between England and me
It´s a sure guarantee that some
hour we´ll be free
Oh thank God we´re surrounded by water.
Tom Moore made his waters meet fame and renown
lover of anything dressed in a crown
In brandy the brandy old Saxon he´d drown
But throw ne'er a one into the ocean.
Scots have their whisky, the Welsh have their speech
And their poets are paid about tenpence a week
Provided no hard
words on England they speak
Oh Lord! What a price for devotion.
The Danes came to Ireland with nothing to do
dream of the plundered old Irish they slew
´Yeh will in your Viking, said Brian Boru
And threw them back into the ocean!
foreign old monarchs in battle did join,
Each wanting their head on the back of a coin
If the Irish had sense they´d
drowned both in the Boyne
And partition throw into the ocean!