The Wearing Of The Green, Irish song lyrics and guitar chords J.K. Casey. There are many
versions of 'The Wearing Of The Green' . The one I have put the chords to is the one that's most popular in Ireland. The video
is of The Wolfe Tones, the tune itself is similar to another Irish song ''The Rising Of The Moon'' , same air but different
words. J.K. Casey was sometimes called ''Leo''
O[D] Paddy dear, and[Bm] did you hear the[A] news that's going round? The[G] Shamrock is for[D]bid, by
laws, to[A] grow on Irish[D] ground! No[D] more St. Patrick's[Bm] day we'll keep his[A] color last be seen; For, there's
a[G] bloody[D] law agin the[A] Wearing[A7] of the[D] Green!
Oh! I met with Napper Tandy, and he took me by the hand,
And he says: How is Poor Ould Ireland, and does she stand? She's the most distressed Country that ever I have seen:
For, they are hanging men and women for the Wearing of the Green!
And since the color we must wear, is England's
cruel red, Ould Ireland's sons will ne'er forget the blood that they have shed.. Then take the Shamrock from your
hat, and cast it on the sod: It will take root, and flourish still, tho' under foot 'tis trod.
When the law can
stop the blades of grass from growing as they grow.. And when the leaves, in Summer time, their verdure does not show..
Then, I will change the color I wear in my cabbeen: But, till that day, plaze God! I'll stick to the Wearing of the
Green!
But if, at last, her colors should be torn from Ireland's heart Her sons, with shame and sorrow, from the
dear old soil will part; I've heard whispers of a Country that lies far beyond sea, Where rich and poor stand equal,
in the light of Freedom's day!
O Erin! must we leave you driven by the tyrant's hand! Must we ask a Mother's blessing,
in a strange but happy land, Where the cruel Cross of England's thralldom never to be seen: But where, thank God!
we'll live and die, still Wearing of the Green!
Farewell! for I must leave thee, my own, my native shore, And doomed in foreign lands to dwell, may never
see thee more: For laws, our tyrant laws, have said that seas must roll between Old Erin and her faithful sons, that
loved to wear the green.
Oh! we love to wear the green, Oh! how we love the green, On native land we cannot stand for wearing of
the green, Yet wheresoe'er the exile lives, tho' oceans roll between, Thy faithful sons will fondly sing "The wearing
of the green."
My father loved his country, and sleeps within her breast, While I that would have died for her, may never
be so blest; Those tears my mother shed for me, how bitter they'd have been If I had proved a traitor to "The wearing
of the green."
There were some that wore the green, who did betray the green, On native land we cannot stand thro' traitor
to the green, Yet whatsoe'er our fate may be, when oceans roll between, Her faithful sons will ever sing "The wearing
of the green."
Remember Father Murphy and Emmett that was brave, Not forgetting Dan O'Connell, that now lies in his grave,
If those heroes were alive, boys, their country they'd redeem, And shortly have the union back once more in College
Green.
One blessing on my native Isle! One curse upon her foes While yet her skies above me smile Her breeze around
me blows Now, nevermore my cheek be wet Nor sigh, nor altered mien Till the dark tyrant I regret The Wearing
Of The Green
Sweet land! my parents loved you well They sleep within your breast With theirs, for love no
words can tell My bones must never rest And lonely must my true love stray That was our village queen When
I am banished far away For The Wearing Of The Green
But, Mary, dry that bitter tear 'Twould break my heart
to see And sweetly sleep my parents dear That cannot weep for me I'll think not of my distant tomb Nor seas
rolled wide between But watch the hour, that yet will come For The Wearing Of The Green
O, I care not for
the thistle And I care not for the rose For when the cold winds whistle Neither down nor crimson shows But
like hope to him that's friendless Where no gaudy flower is seen By our graves, with love that's endless Waves
our own true-hearted green
O, sure God's world was wild enough And plentiful for all! And ruined cabins were
so stuff To build a lordly hall They might have let the poor man live Yet all as lordly been But heaven it's
owngood time will give For The Wearing Of The Green
