Ballad of O'Donovan Rossa
Here's to Dermot O'Donovan Rossa:
All honour to his name.
There's not a name more noble,
For it speaks not of serfdom or shame.
It speaks of a life lived for Ireland
Of a heart fond and fearless and true,
A spirit untamed yet defiant
The foeman would never subdue.
They chained him; they scourged him; they scarred him;
They tried every devilish plan
To blacken the heart of our hero,
To shatter the love of a man.
They made him an exile and outlaw;
They slandered him living and dead.
But his love nor his hate never wavered,
Till the spirit God gave him had fled.
His crime was to herit his mother
Had called him to dare and to deal
That some day her bonds might be broken,
That one day her limbs might be free
From the chains of the English enslaver;
And proudly he answered the call,
Nor feared what the future might bring him
So Ireland could be free from her thongs.
Bear him back to the mother who loved him;
Bear him back to the land he loved well.
Go forth 'mong the children of Ireland,
The tale of his trials to tell.
In their hearts plant the seed of his story;
In their minds plant the dream of his soul,
And point them the road that he travelled,
The rough road to liberty's goal.
Here's to Dermot O'Donovan Rossa;
All glory to God for his life.
For the glorious memory he leaves us
To strengthen our hearts in the strife,
Till the cause that he lived for is cherished,
Till the dark nights of thralldom have fled,
When Ireland unfettered shall honour
The namesof her patriot dead.