He Said That He Was Not Our Brother--
[Note: Air--``The valley lay smiling before me.'']
by John Banim
He said that he was not our brother--
The mongrel! he said what we knew--
No, Erin! our dear Island--mother,
He ne'er had his black blood from you!
And what though the milk of your bosom
Gave vigor and health to his veins--
He was but a foul foreign blossom,
Blown hither to poison our plains!
He said that the sword had enslaved us--
That still at its point we must kneel--
The liar!--though often it braved us,
We cross'd it with hardier steel!
This witness his Richard--our vassal!
His Essex--whose plumes we trod down!
His Willy--whose peerless sword--tassel
We tarnish'd at Limeric town!
No! falsehood and feud were our evils,
While force not a fetter could twine--
Come Northmen,--come Normans,--come Devils!
We gave them our Sparth to the chine!
And if once again he would try us,
To the music of trumpet and drum,
And no traitor among us or nigh us--
Let him come, the Brigand! let him come!