Sacred the cause of Clan Connail's defending, The altars we kneel at, the homes of our sires. Ruthless the ruin the foe is extending. Midnight is red with the plunderers' fires. On with O'Donnell, then! Fight the old fight again, Sons of Sir Connell, all valiant and true; Make the false Saxon feel Erin's avenging steel! Strike for your country, "O'Donnell Aboo!" This was the other: THE JACKETS GREEN When I was a maiden fair and young On the pleasant banks of Lee, No bird that in the wild wood sang Was half so blythe and free; My heart ne'er beats with flying feet, Tho' Love sand me his queen, Till down the glen rode Saisfield's men And they wore their jackets green. II Young Donal sat on his gallant gray Like a king on a royal seat, And my heart leaped out on his regal way To worship at his feet; O Love, had you come in those colors dressed, And woo'd with a soldier's mien, I'd have laid my head on your throbbing breast For the sake of the Irish green. III No hoarded wealth did my love own Save the good sword that he bore, But I loved him for himself alone And the colors bright he wore. For had he come in England's red To make me England's queen, I'd rove the high green hills instead For the sake of the Irish green. IV When William stormed with shot and shell At the walls of Garryowen, In the breach of death my Donal fell, And he sleeps near the treaty stone. That breach the foeman never crossed While he swung his broadsword keen, But I do not weep my darling lost, For he fell in his jacket green. Here is a song that Madam liked very much. It was the most popular song of the Fenians: THE FELONS OF OUR LAND Fill up once more, we'll drink a toast To comrades far away, No nation upon earth can boast Of braver hearts than they; And though they sleep in dungeons deep, Or flee, outlawed and banned, We love them yet, we can't forget The felons of our land. In boyhood's bloom and manhood's pride Foredoomed by alien laws, Some on the scaffold proudly died For Ireland's holy cause; And, brother, say, shall we to-day Unmoved, like cowards stand, While traitors shame and foes defame The felons of our land? Some in the convict's dreary cell Have found a living tomb, And some, unknown, unfriended, fell Within the prison's gloom; But what care we, although it be Trod by a ruffian band? God bless the clay where rest to-day The felons of our land!