Old Ireland lies groaning -
A hand at her throat,
By coward betrayed
And by foreigners bought.
Forget not the lessons
Our fathers have taught!
Our land's full of danger
And held by a stranger -
Be brave and be true!
We'll take to the hills
Like the bandits of old,
When Rome was first founded
By warriors bold,
Who knew how to plunder
The rich of their gold:
A life full of danger,
With Jack the bushranger -
The bold Donahoo.
We've left dear old Ireland's
Hospitable shores -
The land of the Emmets,
The Tones and the Moores.
Sweet liberty o'er us
Her scalding tear pours.
She points to the manger,
Wher Christ was a stranger -
And perished for you.
You may hurl us to crime
And brand us with shame;
But you never will catch us,
Our spirit to tame;
For we'll fight to the last
In old Ireland's sweet name
And we are bushrangers
Who care not for dangers -
With bold Donahoo!
