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