A Health to King Philip

Now, friends, grasp glasses and fill up,
Let your bumpers brimful be;
We'll drink to the health of King Philip
And the Child who strays o'er-sea.
Too long, he wanders in sorrow,
Forgetting our land and lance;
To raise grief from us, to-morrow,
I travel to Spain and France.

I pray the bright King of Heaven
To cause the oppressors to quail,
Exiled from the Woman Bereaven —
Our Lady, — our Innis Fail!
Let Stuart sail the seas over,
Bring homeward the gallant Lord Clare, —
Then joyful she'll greet her True Lover,
And foreigners forth shall fare!