The Irish endured much struggling and suffering in Ireland and here in America. Through it all, the famine, the number of people that died, the treatment by the British lords, the Irish never gave up their faith, nor their pride. Stand strong my brothers.
No other man could say with pride
How honored t’was to be
That though they suffered hunger
And through their poverty
They still stood tall, to fight them all
The rest… is history
Now, turn the pages back some time
On an island far from here
Where English Lords forced a nation
To sea or to live with fear
They pushed away, even still today
But, the Irish pride is clear
Through all the outward signs of hate
Too, in Boston, where they fled
All of the Beacon Hill residents
Just wished the Irish dead
But, they prevailed, as soon they hailed
The pride of Irish bred
Despite their constant struggles
They never chose to hide
For they knew just who they were
And wore it then with pride
As years went on, the Irish son
In America did reside
They were soon to hold their office
Also Police in New York blue
For they were of the people, proud
That held the laws then true
Enforcing rules and teachers at schools
As the Irish got their due
Yet, still they’re given just one day
While a month unto another
But, yet the Irish smile with pride
Not standing under cover
They’d never duck, with their Irish luck
To share with non-Irish brothers
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