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- Let party strife be crushed, and angry feelings hushed.
While I sing in praise of one to Ireland's dear.
Tho he is long since passed away
Yet his memory lives today.
And will for countless ages, bright and clear.
His was a martyr's doom, but nameless in his tomb.
No sculptured praise in marble o'er him lies
But we know the work he's done, and the martyr's crown he won.
His is the fame that never, never dies.Chorus
Oh' But when freedon has dawned on the land of his birth
When Ireland takes her place mongst the nations of earth.
they we'll write his epitaph, her lies the brave
The dauntless Robert Emmett in a patriot's grave. -
When Irish hopes were dead, every vestige of them fled.
He with words of burning eloquence burst forth.
And they spread like living fire, till there rose a new desire.(continues on next page)Transcribed by a member of our volunteer transcription project.