Oh, Paddy dear and did ye hear
The news that's goin' round?
The shamrock is by law forbid
To grow on Irish ground
No more Saint Patrick's Day we'll keep
His color can't be seen
For there's a cruel law
Against the Wearin' o' the Green

I met with Napper Tandy
And he took me by the hand
And he said, "How's poor old Ireland
And how does she stand?"
"She's the most distressful country
That ever yet was seen
For they're hanging men and women
For the Wearin' o' the Green"

So if the colour we must wear
Be England's cruel red
Let it remind us of the blood
That Irishmen have shed
And pull the shamrock from your hat
And throw it on the sod
But never fear, 'twill take root there
Though underfoot 'tis trod

When laws can stop the blades of grass
From growin' as they grow
And when the leaves in summertime
Their colour dare not show
Then I will change the colour too
I wear in my caubeen
But till that day, please God, I'll stick
To the Wearin' o' the Green