Where The Grass Grows Green
I never was there ; but I Ve heard them declare
That, away over where the shamrocks are seen,
There 's beautiful isle, where it 's well worth your while
To see how the sile grows the freshest of green.
And that is the land where St. Patrick the grand
Came, with crozier in hand great heathendom's foe ;
Each Irishman wild, by his words was beguiled,
And came like a child to the altar aglow.
In the shamrock's abode, religion he sowed,
And the divil a toad did he lave in his way
He cleaned out the brake, the mountain and lake ;
And never a snake can be seen t' this day.