THE MEN OF TIPPERARY.
I.
Let Britain boast her British hosts,
About them all right little care we;
Not British seas, nor British coasts,
Can match The Man of Tipperary.
II.
Tall is his form, his heart is warm,
His spirit light as any fairy;
His wrath is fearful as the storm
That sweeps The Hills of Tipperary.
III.
When woe or want oppress his friends,
Though State and Fate proclaim despair, he
Against them all "the Pass" defends,
And rights The Wrongs of Tipperary.
IV.
Yet meet him in his cabin rude,
Or dancing with his dark-haired Mary,
You'd swear they knew no other mood
Than mirth and Love in Tipperary.
V.
Soft is his girl's sunny eye,
Her mien is mild, her step is airy,
Her heart is fond, her soul is high;
Oh! she's The Pride of Tipperary.
VI.
You're free to share his scanty meal;
His plighted word he'll never vary.
In vain they tried with gold and steel
To shake The Faith of Tipperary.
