Plea For The Mother Tongue


Do justice to Irish, give it a chance

On it’s own native soil, as the French has in France;

No honey so sweet as it drops from the leaf

Or so thrilling a sound for the Bard and the Chief.

The gift of our fathers from sire to son

Despite the proud Saxon, his steel and his gun.

Erin’s Saint Patrick through it spread the good news,

Securing salvation to men if they choose.

Proud Brian in Gaelic charged his good men,

And smote the barbarian on Cluan Tairb fen.

Ireland shall weep if this tongue you don’t cherish

Repel the disgrace which is yours if it perish…


By Revd. John Nolan - 1877

"The Politics of Language in Ireland 1366-1922: A Sourcebook", by Tony Crowley


This blog is provided for general informational purposes only. The opinions expressed here are the author's alone and not necessarily those of