Oh gleam but your swords on the goats to advance!
Bid our Charles in the front his position to take,
And at liberty's glance,
A wide host from their trance,
Over bright Sliev-na-mon and Knock-Greny will wake.2
Oh fly to our shores, and should weapons be wanted,
Our hands in the blood of the despot we'll dye;
They'll come from Kildare, and from Dingle undaunted.
For Conaught with Ulster in Glory will vie:
Every spot of the land burning spirits will send.
And oh, when regenerate they leap from the chain,
What shield may defend
Those who taught them to bend.
When with Una her Donald's united again.3
The clan of O'Neill with the sword redly gleaming,4
Will come with Mac Carthy the prince of the Gael—
And O'Sullivan's banner from Bear-haven streaming—
Mac Mahon our strong one, that never could fail—
On Mac Morogh of Leinster the scourge shall be laid;
Blarney's lord his disgrace with Mac Awliffe will share—
When her ranks are arrayed.
With the pole and the blade,
Then shall Sabia5 rejoice and her tyrants despair.
