Oh now Paddy dear, 'n did ye hear, the news that's goin' round?
The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground!
No more Saint Patty's Day we'll keep, his colors can't be seen,
Fer there's a cruel law agin the wearin o' the green.
I met with Napper Tandy and he took me by the hand,
And he said "how's poor ol' Ireland and how then does she stand?"
She's the most distressful country that e'er yet was ever seen,
They're hangin' men and women for the wearing 'o the green!
And if the color we must wear is England's cruel red,
Let it remind us of all the blood that Ireland has shed.
Then pull the shamrock from yer head and throw it on the sod,
And never fear, twill take root there, tho under foot 'tis trod.
When the law can stop the blade o' grass from growing as they grow
And when the leaves in summer time, their color dare now show,
Then I will change the color, too I wear in my caubeen.
But 'til that day, please God, I'll stick to the wearin' o' the Green.