Our Dear Native Isle

May God, in whose hand is the lot of each land-
Who rules over ocean and dry land-
Inspire our good king from his presence to fling
Ill advisers who'd ruin our Island.
Don't we feel 'tis our dear native Island ?
A fertile and fine little Island !
May Orange and Green no longer be seen
Distained with the blood of our Island !

The fair ones we prize declare they despise
Those who'd make it a slavish and vile land ;
Be their smiles our reward, and we'll gallantly guard
All the rights and delights of our Island —
For, O 'tis a lovely green Island !
Bright beauties adorn our Island !
At St Patrick's command, vipers quitted our land-
But he's wanted again in our Island !

For her interest and pride, we oft fought by the side
Of England, that haughty and high land ;
Nay, we'd do so again, if she'd let us remain
A free and a flourishing Island —
But she like a crafty and sly land,
Dissension excites in our Island,
And, our feuds to adjust, she'd lay in the dust
All the freedom and strength of our Island.

A few years ago (though now she says no),
We agreed with that surly and shy land,
That each, as a friend, should the other defend,
And the crown be the link of each Island !
'Twas the final state-bond of each Island ;
Independence we swore to each Island ;
Are we grown so absurd, as to credit her word,
When she's breaking her oath with our Island ?

Let us steadily stand by our king and our land,
And it sha'n't be a slavish or vile land ;
Nor impotent Pitt unpunished commit
An attempt on the rights of our Island.
Each voice should resound through our Island,
You're my neighbour, but, Bull, this is my land !
Nature's favourite spot, and I'd sooner be shot,
Than surrender the rights of our Island !