Men of Tipperary


Let Britain boast her British hosts
About them all right little care we
Not British seas, nor British coasts
Can match the man of Tipperary
Tall is his form, his heart is warm
His spirit light as any fairy
His wrath is fearful as the storm
That sweeps the hills of Tipperary

Let woe or want oppress his friends
Though state and fate proclaim despair
Against them all “the pass” defends
And rights the wrongs of Tipperary
Yet meet him in his cabin rude
Or dancing with his dark-haired Mary
You’d swear they knew no other mood
Than mirth and love in Tipperary

Soft is his girl’s sunny eye
Her mien is mild, her step is airy
Her heart is fond, her soul is high
Oh, she’s the pride of Tipperary
You’re free to share his scanty meal
His plighted word he’ll never vary
In vain they tried with gold and steel
To shake the faith of Tipperary

Send him to fight for native land
His is no courage cold and weary
The troops live not on earth to stand
The headlong charge of Tipperary
Let Britain brag her motley rag
We’ll lift the green more proud and airy
Be mine the lot to bear that flag
And head the men of Tipperary

Though Britain boasts her British hosts
About them all right little care we
Give us to guard our native coasts
The matchless men of Tipperary


Song Clip




Thomas Davis