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Will you come to the bower o'er the free boundless ocean |
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Where stupendous waves roll in thundering motion |
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Where the mermaids are seen and the wild tempest gather |
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To loved Erin the green, the dear land of our fathers |
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Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower |
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Will you come to the land of O'Neill and O'Donnell |
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Of Lord Lucan of old and the immortal O'Connell |
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Where Brian chased the Dane and St. Patrick the vermin |
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And whose valleys remain still most beautiful and charming |
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Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower |
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You can visit Benburb and the storied Blackwater |
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Where Owen Roe met Munroe and his Chieftains did slaughter |
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Where the lambs skip and play on the mossy all over |
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From those bright golden views to enchanting Rostrevor |
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Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower |
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You can see Dublin City and the fine groves of Blarney |
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The Bann, Boyne, the Pillar and the lakes of Killarney |
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You can ride on the tide on the broad majestic Shannon |
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You can sail round Lough Neagh and see storied Dungannon |
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Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower |
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You can visit New Ross, gallant Wexford and Gorey |
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Where the green was last seen by proud Saxon and Tory |
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Where the soil is sanctified by the blood of each true man |
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Where they died satisfied that their enemies they would't run from |
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Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower |
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Will you come and awake our dear land from its slumber |
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And her fetters we'll break, links that long are encumbered |
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And the air will resound with Hosannahs to greet you |
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On the shore will be found gallant Irishmen to greet you |
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Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower |
