| lyric | One time when walking down a lane
as night was drawing nigh,
I met a colleen with three flowers
and she more yooung thanI.
„Saint Patrick bless you dear.“
I said, „If you’ll be quick to tell the place
where you did find those flowers
I seem to know them well.“
She took and kissed the first flower once,
And sweetly said to me:
'This flower comes from the Wicklow hills,
Dew wet and pure', said she,
'It's name is Michael Dwyer
The strongest flower of all;
But I'll keep it fresh beside my breast
Though all the world should fall.‘
She took and kissed the next flower twice,
And sweetly said to me:
'This flower I culled in Antrim fields,
Outside Belfast,‘ said she.
'The name I call it is Wolfe Tone,
The bravest flower of all;
But I'll keep it fresh beside my breast
Though all the world should fall.‘
She took and kissed the next flower thrice,
And softly said to me:
'This flower I found in Thomas street,
In Dublin fair.‘ said she.
'It's name is Robert Emmet,
The youngest flower of all;
But I'll keep it fresh beside my breast,
Though all the world should fall,
Then Emmet, Dwyer and Tone I'll keep,
For I do love them all;
And I'll keep them fresh beside my breast
Though all the world should fall.I |