Classic Poem

When other lands are parched and dry
Old Erin smiles in vivid green,
And soft and dreamy is the sky
That arches o'er the lovely scene.
'Tis Blarney O, Killarney O
In lower land and higher land,
And here's to good Saint Patrick
Who loved the folks of Ireland!

In other lands roam beasts of prey,
With claws and jaws that pierce and rend;
But Erin has her goats that play,
And every creature is a friend.
'Tis Finnegan and Minnegan
In lower land and higher land,
And here preached kind Saint Patrick
Who drove the beasts from Ireland.

In India crawl great poisonous snakes
That make no bones of eating " nigs, "
But Erin with her wakes and lakes
Has nothing worse than juicy pigs.
'Twas Patrick O did that trick O
In wetter land and drier land;
He was the man that did the job —
He drove the snakes from Ireland!

So let Saint Patrick's name be sung
Where'er an Irish voice is found,
By man or woman old or young,
Who loves the dear old Irish ground.
Though far we wander our hearts grow fonder,
In farther land or nigher land,
Of generous kind Saint Patrick O
Who did all this for Ireland.