ERIN AND HER FOES.
Oh Erin ! nay country, Bweot isle of the sea, With pity and sorrow my heart beats for thee : Thy sins they are scoffed at ; thy daughters reviled ; With scorn and contumely thy shoulders are piled. Thou'rt hated by Saxon ; thou art hated by Gael ; They laugh at thy sorrows, and heed not thy wail — For sorrow thou hast, bitter sorrow, och nee ! Oh Erin 1 my country, my heart beats for thee. Oh Erin J I weep when I think of thy ' pains— The treacherous tyrant who galls thee in chains, And robs thee of liberty, freedom of mind, And leads theo in darkness as the blind lead the blind. : Tis the dull yoke of Rome hangs hard on thy neck * Her Pope and her priests that havo made thee a wreck. Rise, Erin ! my country, and Bhake thy- ' . self free, No nation on oarth shall be blest like thee.
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Bibliographic details
Clutha Leader, Volume IV, Issue 207, 28 June 1878, Page 2
Word Count
154ERIN AND HER FOES. Clutha Leader, Volume IV, Issue 207, 28 June 1878, Page 2
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