Poem Hunter
The Irishmen's Lament
(25 April 1854 – 3 November 1926 / Ontario)

The Irishmen's Lament

We 're aich a descindint
Av the great an resplindint
The bowld, indepindint,

Home Ruler Boroo.
We thought we hed thoighs
An arms av such soize
As wud dazzle yer oyes,

An astonish yez, too.

But the very first bound
We med on the ground, I
Begorra! we found

That mistaken we wer!
To think that ye 'd thrate us,
An faist us and fate us ;
Thin turn round and bate us !

It 's haythens ye are !
To think that a lout
Who never dhrank stout.
An knew nothing about

The rale ould potheen,
Shud hev legs loike a damon,
An arms loike a dhrayman,
An can jump loike a sayman

Bates all Oi've seen !

But a song Oi will throwl,
If you 'll fill up the bowl
For Oi'm sick, be me sowl !

An Oi 'm spacheless, agra ;
Oi wish Oi cud take
Me floight an awake
Where there 's divil a shnake

In Erin Go Bragh.

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