The day that brings us Freedom’s reign.

And on that day may Erin well

Pledge in the cup she lifts to Joy

One grief⁠—the memory of Parnell.

He is dead. Our Uncrowned King is dead. O, Erin, mourn with grief and woe For he lies dead whom the fell gang Of modern hypocrites laid low.

He lies slain by the coward hounds He raised to glory from the mire; And Erin’s hopes and Erin’s dreams Perish upon her monarch’s pyre.