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WILL YOU COME TO THE BOWER

Will you come to the bower o'er the free boundless ocean
Where stupenduous waves roll in thunder and motion
Where the fair maids are seen and the wild tempest gathers
To loved Erin the green the dear land of our fathers?
Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower

Will you come to the land of O'Neill and O'Donnell,
Of Lord Lucan of old and the immortal O'Connell
Where Brian chased the Dane and St Patrick the vermin,
And those valleys remain still most beautiful and charming?
Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower

You can visit Benburb and the stormy Blackwater,
Where Owen Roe met Munroe and his chieftains did slaughter,
Where the lambs sport and play on the mossy all over,
From those bright golden views to enchanting restrover
Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower

You can see Dublin City and the fine groves of Blarney,
The Baun, Boyne, and Liffey, and the lakes of Killarney,
You can ride on the tide o'er the broad Majestic Shannon,
You can sail round Loch Neagh and see storied Dungannon
Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower

You can visit New Ross, gallant Wexford and Gorey,
Where the green was last seen by proud Saxon and Tory,
Where the soil is sanctified by the blood of each true man,
Where they died satisfied their enemies they would not run from
Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower

Will you come and awake our dead land from its slumber,
And her fetters we will break links that long are encumbered,
And the air will resound with hosannas to greet you,
On the shore will be found gallant Irishmen to meet you
Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower


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