THE WEARIN' OF THE GREEN O Paddy dear, an' did ye hear the news that's goin' round? The shamrock is by law forbid to grow on Irish ground! No more Saint Patrick's Day we'll keep, his colour can't be seen, For there's a cruel law agin the wearin' o' the Green! I met wid Napper Tandy, and he took me by the hand, And he said, "How's poor ould Ireland, and how does she stand?" She's the most disthressful country that iver yet was seen, For they're hangin' men an' women there for the wearin' o' the Green. And if the colour we must wear is England's cruel Red, Let it remind us of the blood that Ireland has shed; Then pull the shamrock from your hat, and throw it on the sod, And never fear, 'twill take root there, tho' under foot 'tis trod! When law can stop the blades of grass from growin' as they grow, And when the leaves in summer-time their colour dare not show, Then I will change the colour, too, I wear in my caubeen, But till that day, plase God, I'll stick to wearin' o' the Green. But if at last our colour should be torn from Ireland's heart, Her sons with shame and sorrow from the dear old isle will part; I've heard a whisper of a country that lies beyond the sea, Where rich and poor stand equal in the light of freedom's day. O Erin, must we leave you, driven by a tyrant's hand? Must we ask a mother's blessing from a strange and distant land? Where the cruel cross of England shall nevermore be seen And where, please God, we'll live and die still wearin' o' the Green. -- The last stanza of this anonymous, circa 1798 song was added by Dion Boucicault (1822-1890). Napper Tandy was a leader of the "United Irishmen."