If in winter you shall drive
Birds from crumbs, you shall not thrive;
But if you feed them, they will fly
To sing it sweetly on the sky.
So throw up the window, and
Scatter with a lavish hand,
Taking care you do not spill
Flower-pots from the window-sill,
Singing, “Ireland shall be free
From the centre to the sea”;
Singing bravely once again,
“We are Dan O'Connell' s Men.”