Kathleen Ni-Houlahan. 
By Mangan, James Clarence. 


Long they pine in weary woe, the nobles of our land,
Long they wander to and fro, proscribed, alas! and banned;
Feastless, houseless, altarless, they bear the exile's brand;
But their hope is in the coming-to of Kathaleen Ni-Houlahan!

Think her not a ghastly hag, too hideous to be seen;
Call her not unseemly names, our matchless Kathaleen;
Young she is, and fair she is, and would be crowned queen,
Were the king's son at home here with Kathaleen Ni-Houlahan!

Sweet and mild would look her face, oh none so sweet and mild,
Could she crush the foes by whom her beauty is reviled;
Woolen plaids would grace herself, and robes of silk her child,
If the king's son were living here with Kathaleen Ni-Houlahan!

Sore disgrace it is to see the Arbitress of thrones
Vassal to a Saxoneen of cold and sapless bones!
Bitter anguish wrings our souls -with heavy sighs and groans
We wait the Young Deliverer of Kathaleen Ni-Houlahan.

Let us pray to Him who holds life's issues in His hands - 
Him who formed the mighty globe, with all its thousand lands,
Girdling them with seas and mountains, rivers deep, and strands,
To cast a look of pity upon Kathaleen Ni-Houlahan!

He who over sands and waves led Israel along - 
He who fed, with heavenly bread, that chosen tribe and throng - 
He who stood by Moses, when his foes were fierce and strong - 
May He show forth His might in saving Kathaleen Ni-Houlahan!