"And the tyrant was told What that vessel had braved, And he knew that our city Was succoured and saved. So he led off his men, In their honours so fine, To receive their reward On the banks of the Boyne! Oh, Derry, mavourneen! May Protestant men Be as valorous now, As their fathers were then ; Like the good men and true— He ceased! the bard his lyre unstrung, But let the Papist ever dare To siege our holy faith-he will, He'll take the harp that moulders there, And rouse its ancient echoes still. For valiant deeds again shall be, To bind our souls or dim our glory. DO WHAT YOU CAN! A WORD TO WORKING MEN. COME, Protestant workmen ! And playing your parts ; In the battle of truth You must come to the van, You must brace on your armour, And do what you can. You have heads, to indite, You have fingers, can write, And your weapons, though rude, Will improve in the fight : Let your sword be" the Truth". Though its polish they scan, They will shrink from its fall, When you do what you can. You have ears, that have heard Of the "Jezebel's" guilt; You have hearts, that can feel For the blood she has spilt; And your ears and your hearts Will inspire you a plan, And you'll put it in practice To do what you can. |