The Shan Van Vocht

There are ships upon the sea,
Says the Shan Van Vocht;
There are good ships on the sea,
Says the Shan Van Vocht;
Oh, they’re sailing o’er the sea,
From a land where all are free,
With a freight that’s dear to me,
Says the Shan Van Vocht.

They are coming from the West,
Says the Shan Van Vocht;
And the flag we love the best,
Says the Shan Van Vocht,
Waves proudly in the blast,
And they’ve nailed it to the mast;
Long threat’ning comes at last,
Says the Shan Van Vocht.

‘Twas well O’Connell said,
Says the Shan Van Vocht—
‘My land when I am dead,’
Says the Shan Van Vocht;
‘A race will tread your plains,
With hot blood in their veins,
Who will burst your galling chains,’
Says the Shan Van Vocht.

For these words we love his name,
Says the Shan Van Vocht,
And Ireland guards his fame,
Says the Shan Van Vocht;
And low her poor heart fell
The day she heard his knell;
For she knew he loved her well,
Says the Shan Van Vocht,

But the cause was banned,
Says the Shan Van Vocht,
By sleek slave and traitor bland,
Says the Shan Van Vocht;
Ah, then strayed to foreign strand
Truth and Valour from our land,
The stout heart and ready hand,
Says the Shan Van Vocht.

But with courage undismayed,
Says the Shan Van Vocht,
These exiles watched and prayed,
Says the Shan Van Vocht;
For though trampled to the dust,
Their cause they knew was just,
And in God they put their trust,
Says the Shan Van Vocht,

And now, if ye be men,
Says the Shan Van Vocht,
We’ll have them back again,
Says the Shan Van Vocht,
With pike and guns galore;
And when they touch her shore,
Ireland’s free for evermore,
Says the Shan Van Vocht.