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Page:The Tricolour, Poems of the Irish Revolution.djvu/72

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LOUD SHOUT THE FLAMING TONGUES OF WAR

TA'N SIONAC AR SRAIDIB AG FAIRE GO CAOCRAC

Air—“The West's Asleep.”

Loud shout the flaming tongues of war.
The cannon's thunder rolls afar
While Empires tremble for their fall.
Thou art alone amongst them all.
Where is the friend who for thy sake
Will on his sword thy freedom take?
The son who holds thy right alone
Above an Empire or a throne?

Ah, Grannia Wael, thy stricken head
Is bowed in sorrow o'er thy dead,
Thy dead who died for love of thee,
Not for some foreign liberty.
Shall we betray when hope is near,
Our Motherland whom we hold dear,

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