Oh, the ShamrockAir — Alley Croker Through Erin’s Isle To sport awhile As Love and Valour wander’d, With Wit, the sprite, Whose quiver bright A thousand arrows squander’d; Where’er they pass, A triple grass Shoots up, with dew-drops streaming, As softly green As emeralds seen Through purest crystal gleaming. Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock! Chosen leaf Of Bard and Chief, Old Erin’s native Shamrock! Says Valour, "See, They spring for me, Those leafy gems of morning!" — Says Love, "No, no, For me they grow, My fragrant path adorning." But Wit perceives The triple leaves, And cries, "Oh! do not sever A type that blends Three godlike friends, Love, Valour, Wit, for ever!" Oh, the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock! Chosen leaf, etc. So firmly fond May last the bond They wove that morn together, And ne’er may fall One drop of gall On Wit’s celestial feather. May Love, as twine His flowers divine, Of thorny falsehood weed ’em: May Valour ne’er His standard rear Against the cause of Freedom! Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock! Chosen leaf, etc.