Out of Ireland have we come, great hatred, little room, maimed us at the start. I carry from my mother's womb a fanatic heart.
Out of Ireland have we come, great hatred, little room, maimed us at the start. I carry from my mother's womb a fanatic heart.
An intellectual hatred is the worst, So let her think opinions are accursed. Have I not seen the loveliest woman born Out of the mouth of Plenty's horn, Because of her opinionated mind Barter that horn and every good By quiet natures understood For an old bellows full of angry wind.
I know that I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above Those that I fight I do not hate, Those that I guard I do not love My country is Kiltartan Cross, My countrymen Kiltartan's poor.
Those that I fight I do not hate, those that I guard I do not love.
An intellectual hatred is the worst.
An intellectual hate is the worst.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories