PRETTY little land I know,

Surrounded by the pearly spray;

It's where the em'rald shamrocks grow

In fertile propagation.

The great bear in the polar sky

Can see it at the fall of day,

When peeping with his glistening eye,

Towards Britain's mighty nation.

For when the sun is rolling down

Into the ocean for the night,

In all his radiant golden crown,

And purple-flecker'd rays;

While tucking on his dreaming cap,

And where the shining waters dance

Across the wild Atlantic deeps,

He takes a sudden, pleasing glance;

And when the twilight cometh grey

On other shores, with coaxing glow,

He winks his eye before he sleeps,

Upon that charming land I know,

That's jewel'd in the pearly spray.

There, lore of bravest deeds enshrine

Great phantoms of historic days;

There, myrtle wreaths of memory twine

O'er many storied graves;

There, many marble brows are bound

By sculpture of the poet's bays,

The while their souls are still in sound

From harp strings to the waves.

With glorious wealth of hair in curls,

And beauty, real elating, boys,

It's there you'll find most darling girls

In plentiful diffusion.

And Cupid, with his bow and darts,

His murders perpetrating, boys,

Don't care at all what crowds of hearts

He slays by love's delusion.