Tag Archives: Shamrock

Shamrock on Patrick’s Day

There’s one day in the year that I’ll always observe
As long as I’ve one breath of life.
To our patron Saint my memory will serve,
And I haven’t the least fear of strife.
But with pleasure and freedom, I’ll sing and I’ll dance,
While the piper his tunes sweetly plays;
Each lad and his colleen can gambol and prance,
While we drown the green shamrock on Patrick’s Day.


Patrick’s Day! Saint Patrick’s Day!
Throw aside coffee and tea;
Fill up your glasses, then drink to your lasses,
And we’ll drown the shamrock on Patrick’s Day.

Now, the seventeenth of March is our natal day,
And we celebrate it with great joy;
From the gray-haired old man and old woman too,
To the smallest of spalpeens or boy.
No true Irishmen could then miss a fair,
But to town, sure, they rode all the way
On their donkeys and cars, sure, they come near and far,
To drown the shamrock on Patrick’s Day.

Patrick’s Day! Saint Patrick’s Day!
Throw aside coffee and tea;
Fill up your glasses, then drink to your lasses,
And we’ll drown the shamrock on Patrick’s Day.

We’re not selfish at all on our open fields,
All are welcome to join;
So come up every one of ye, take a hand in,
In the merriment ye can purloin.
And while the piper has wind for to blow,
And his nimble fingers can play,
We’ll stay till the wee small hours of the morn,
To drown the green shamrock on St. Patrick’s Day.

Patrick’s Day! Saint Patrick’s Day!
Throw aside coffee and tea;
Fill up your glasses, then drink to your lasses,
And we’ll drown the shamrock on Patrick’s Day.

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Beautiful Shamrock of Old Ireland

There’s a sweet little spot away down by Cape Clear,
Sure it’s Ireland herself, to all Irishmen dear ;
Where the white praties blossom like illigant flowers,
And the wild birds sing sweetly above the round towers;
And the dear little shamrock that none can withstand,
Is the beautiful emblem of old Ireland.


In his hat good St. Patrick used always to wear
The shamrock whenever he went to a fair ;
And Nebuchadnezzar, no doubt highly prized
A bit of the blossom when he went disguised ;
For the bosom of beauty itself might expand,
When bedecked by the shamrock of old Ireland.

When far, far away, a sweet blossom I’ve seen,
I’ve dreamt of shillelaghs and shamrocks so green,
That grow like two twins, on the bogs and the hills,
With a drop in my eye, that with joy my heart fills ;
And I’ve blessed the dear sod from a far distant strand,
And the beautiful shamrock of old Ireland.

Most of the songs which mention the Shamrock were written by people who left Ireland and are nostalgic.

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