WHILE tyrants rule the land, <br />Beneath the Irish skies; <br />While e’er the iron hand <br />Upon our people lies; <br />While sons are driven forth <br />In other lands to dwell, <br />Still in the South and North <br />Old Ireland will rebel! <br />Rebel, rebel! <br />Old Ireland will rebel! <br /> <br />While fanlike from below, <br />And pale against the skies, <br />That light of shame—the glow <br />Of burning homes—shall rise; <br />While hot indignant tears <br />From Irish hearts shall swell:— <br />Be it a thousand years, <br />Old Ireland will rebel! <br />Rebel, rebel! <br />Old Ireland will rebel! <br /> <br />Until the tyrant’s rod <br />Shall broken be in twain, <br />And on the dear old sod <br />Blest freedom treads again; <br />Or till our masters learn <br />To rule our country well, <br />The fires of hate shall burn!— <br />Old Ireland will rebel! <br />Rebel, rebel! <br />Old Ireland will rebel!<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ireland-shall-rebel/
