Will you
come to the bow
or the free boundless ocean
Where the stupendous waves
roll in thunder and motion
Where the mermaids are seen
and the fierce tempest gathers
To Laverne the green,
to 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'Donogh
Of Lord Lucan of old
and the immortal O 'Connogh
Where Brian drove the Danes,
and St. Patrick the vermin,
and whose valleys remain
Still most beautiful and charming,
will you come?
Will you, will you,
will you come to the Bower?
You can see Dublin City
and the fine groves of Blarney
Oh, the band by the Liffey
and the lakes of Killarney
You can ride on the Tide
or the broad majestic Shannon
You can sail round Loughney
and see Storydon Gannon
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 Saxton and Tory
And the air sanctified
by the blood of each Truman
Where they died satisfied,
their enemies they'd not run from
Will you come, will you, will you,
will you come to the bower?
Will you come and awake
our lost land from its slumber?
And whose feathers day will break,
links that long have encumbered
And the air will resound,
with Hosannas to meet you
On the shore will be found,
gallant Ir ishmen to meet you
Will you come, will you, will you,
will you come to the Bower? you