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.