Sons Of Erin

Ye sons of Erin who have come
To this fair land to make your home,
Look back upon your native shore,
Where lordling rule makes thousands poor,
And tell me why ye stand arrayed
With those, who would your rights invade?
With those who would extend a course
Of human bondage, tenfold worse
Than England's Land Monopoly,
All o'er this land of Liberty.


Know ye not that with the class,
Known as the Democratic mass,
Stand your uncompromising foes,
And source of all our country's woes?
Tyrants, whose avaricious lust,
Would fain have ground you to the dust,
Long ere time's dial marked this hour,
Had their best wishes been their power.


Remember great O'Connell's name!
And sully not his world-wide fame
By any glaring act of shame;
Remember, how he once returned
To Southern planters moneys, earned
By the bondman 'neath the yoke,
And all those burning words he spoke;
And let your great example be
His life and marked consistency.