Irish Patriot

I stood beneath the lofty palms on India’s burning shore
A-listening to the tiger’s howl and a savage lion’s roar
As I stood gazing on a scene, was lonely, bleak, and drear
Slowly advancing from the wood an old man did appear
«From whence came you?» the old man said
In a voice both meek and low
«I'm from the good old native isle
Where the Lee and Shannon flow»
«You're welcome to our sunny isle»
The old man did reply
As tears rolled down his hollow cheeks
And bitterly did cry