Oh Paddy, dear, and did you hear the news that's going round?
The shamrock is by law forbid to grow on Irish ground
Saint Patrick's Day no more we'll keep; his colours can't be seen
For they're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green

I met with Napper Tandy and he took me by the hand
He said "How's dear old Ireland and how does she stand?"
She's the most distressful country that you have ever seen
For they're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green

For the wearing of the green, for the wearing of the green
They're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green

Then since the color we must wear is England's cruel red
Sure, Ireland's sons will ne'er forget the blood that they have shed
You may take the shamrock from your hat and cast it on the sod
But 'twill take root and flourish still tho' underfoot 'tis trod

My father loved his country and sleeps within its breast
While I that would have died for her must never so be blessed
Those tears my mother shed for me, how bitter they had been
If I had proved a traitor to the wearing of the green

For the wearing of the green, for the wearing of the green
They're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green
But if at last our colours should be torn from Ireland's heart
Her sons with shame and sorrow from the dear old isle would part
I've heard a whisper of a land that lies beyond the sea
Where rich and poor stand equal in the light of freedom's day

Oh Ireland, must we leave you, driven by a tyrant's hand
And seek a mother's blessing from a strange and distant land
Where the cruel cross of England shall never more be seen
And in that land we'll live and die for the wearing of the green

For the wearing of the green, for the wearing of the green
They're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green
For the wearing of the green, for the wearing of the green
They're hanging men and women for the wearing of the green