 | The Poetical Works of Robert Anderson |  |
236
THE LAND WE LIVE IN.
SUNG BY MR. MAYWOOD, ON ST. PATRICK'S DAY.
Apologies shall sangsters use?
Wae worth the loon wha dare refuse;
I'll chaunt ane aff-hand frae the Muse,
And praise the land we live in:
Wi' beauty fair as flow'rs o' spring,
An' lads mair blithe than onie king,
Deil claw his wame wha winna sing
The favour'd land we live in!
Gae seek auld terra firma round,
Whare'er man claims a perch o' ground,
The leelest hearts will ay be found,
Throughout the land we live in!
Wae worth the loon wha dare refuse;
I'll chaunt ane aff-hand frae the Muse,
And praise the land we live in:
Wi' beauty fair as flow'rs o' spring,
An' lads mair blithe than onie king,
Deil claw his wame wha winna sing
The favour'd land we live in!
Gae seek auld terra firma round,
Whare'er man claims a perch o' ground,
The leelest hearts will ay be found,
Throughout the land we live in!
Auld Erin's cottars laugh at care;
They lo'e their friens, protect the fair;
And grievous ills they joyfu' bear,
A' for the land they live in!
Their bosoms wi' true valour steel'd,
They're ay the foremost i' the field;
And mak ilk pauky Frenchman yield,
For the dear land they live in!
Gae seek auld terra firma, &c.
They lo'e their friens, protect the fair;
And grievous ills they joyfu' bear,
A' for the land they live in!
Their bosoms wi' true valour steel'd,
237
And mak ilk pauky Frenchman yield,
For the dear land they live in!
Gae seek auld terra firma, &c.
Whare'er I earn my wee bit bread,
Howe'er stern fate may bow my head,
I'll sing, till number'd wi' the dead,
This happy land we live in!
And O, while shamrock's deck the isle,
May peace and plenty on it smile;
And bonny lasses, void o' guile,
Ay grace the land we live in!
Gae seek auld terra firma, &c.
Howe'er stern fate may bow my head,
I'll sing, till number'd wi' the dead,
This happy land we live in!
And O, while shamrock's deck the isle,
May peace and plenty on it smile;
And bonny lasses, void o' guile,
Ay grace the land we live in!
Gae seek auld terra firma, &c.
Now, strike the harp—your voices raise,
In Erin's—in St. Patrick's praise;
May sorrow darken a' his days,
Wha scorns the land we live in!
May party feuds for ever cease,
An' rights religious lang encrease!
Then, bold in war, secure in peace,
We'll bless the land we live in!
Gae seek auld terra firma round,
Whare'er man claims a perch o' ground,
The leelest hearts will ay be found,
Throughout the land we live in!
In Erin's—in St. Patrick's praise;
May sorrow darken a' his days,
Wha scorns the land we live in!
May party feuds for ever cease,
An' rights religious lang encrease!
Then, bold in war, secure in peace,
We'll bless the land we live in!
Gae seek auld terra firma round,
Whare'er man claims a perch o' ground,
The leelest hearts will ay be found,
Throughout the land we live in!
| The Poetical Works of Robert Anderson | |