Wearin' o'the Green, an Old Irish tune
Sequenced by Barry Taylor


History of the Song:
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by Dion Boucicault (1820-1890)


Oh Paddy dear, and did you hear the news that is going round
The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground
No more Saint Patrick's Day we'll keep - his colors can't be seen
For there's a cruel law against the wearing of the green.

I met with Naper Tandy and he took me by the hand
And he said, "How's poor old Ireland and how does she stand?"
She's the mosy distressful country that ever yet was seen
For they're hangin men an' women for the wearing of the green

And if the color we must wear is England's cruel Red
Let it remind us of the blood that Ireland has shed
Then pull the shamrock from your hat, and throw it on the sod
And never fear, "'twill take root there, tho' under foot 'tis trod".

When the law can stop the blades of grass from growing as they grow
And when the leaves in summer-time, their color dare not show
Then I will change the color, too, I wear in my caubeen
But 'til that day, please God, I'll stick to wearing of the Green.


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Daniel O'Connell, the Irish leader commemorated in the last stanza, died in 1847. This ballad updates a famous ballad of the same title, in circulation since the turn of the century, and later revised by the Irish-American playwright Dion Boucicault (1820?-1890).

James Naper Tandy, the Irish revolutionary hero, died in 1803.

Dion Boucicault was, despite the French name, an Irishman born in Dublin. At the time, inspired by America's successful revolution against British rule, many Irish thought the time was ripe for independence. The color green became a symbol of sympathy for Irish independence, and the British actually began executing persons found wearing anything of the color green.

The pen, however, is mightier than the sword, and this powerful poem was the response. Napper Tandy, mentioned in the poem, was in fact a shopkeeper in Dublin who, having been identified by the British as a freedom fighter, had to flee to France. Boucicault fled the country, coming to America.

This is poetry of which revolution was born.



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