The angry Gael to sooth you'll fail—the wrongs he lays your door at
It won't redress to pay his cess and nearly all his poor rate:
'Tis useless quite to calm his spite by show'ring blessings o'er him,
While still he lacks the O's and Macs his fathers had before him!

But now, to close the tale of woes which long had tried our patience,
Great MacAleese cements a peace between the warring nations;
No more the swords of Saxon hordes are rankling in our vitals,
For Erin's shore enjoys once more her ancient styles and titles.

O long ago had things been so ere feud had rent our party,
And Parnell those for leader chose while these preferred McCarthy,
I doubt not but the Cause had cut a fat superior figure,
If, better led, we'd had for head O'Parnell and MacBiggar!

'Twas hard to spot the patriot when parties mingled freely,
And Labouchere at times would share the politics of Healy;
A symbol new and plain to view from such mistakes will free him—
By Mac and O you'll always know a patriot when you see him:

This shibboleth shall bind till death, without respect of faction,
In mutual love, all persons of Hibernian extraction:
I see them stand, a gallant band, agreed each question vexed on,
O'Saunderson in heart at one with Dillon and MacSexton!

And when we've found Home Rule All Round the only panacea,
The Welsh perhaps will all be Aps—the Scotchmen Macs as we are—
While Englishmen will sorrow then, in shame and degradation,
To think they've not the titles got which really make a Nation.