I50 
ST PATRICK’S DAY 
 
They slew our women :  let us then 
At least annihilate their men ! 
Lest the ill race from faithless graves 
Arise again to make us slaves. 
 
Arise, O God, and stand, and smite 
For Ireland’s wrong, for Ireland’s right ! 
Our Lady, stay the pitying tear ! 
There is no room for pity here ! 
 
What pity knew the Saxon e’er ? 
Arise, O God, and slay nor spare, 
Until full vengeance rightly wrought 
Bring all their house of wrong to nought ! 
 
Scorn, the catastrophe of crime, 
These be their monuments through time ! 
And Ireland, green once more and fresh, 
Draw life from their dissolving flesh ! 
 
By Saxon carcases renewed, 
Spring up, O shamrock virgin-hued ! 
And in the glory of thy leaf 
Let all forget the ancient grief ! 
 
Now is the hour !  The drink is poured ! 
Wake !  fatal and avenging sword ! 
Brave men of Erin, hand in hand, 
Arise and free the lovely land ! 
 
Death to the Saxon !  Slay nor spare ! 
O God of Justice, hear us swear !