Let cowards sneer and tyrants frown, Oh, little do we care! The felon's cap 's the noblest crown An Irish head can wear! And every Gael in Innisfail Who scorns the serf's vile brand, From Lee to Boyne would gladly join The felons of our land! This is one of the songs of earlier risings which we all sang during the last one: WRAP THE GREEN FLAG 'ROUND ME, BOYS I Wrap the green flag 'round me, boys, To die 'twere far more sweet, With Erin's noble emblem, boys, To be my winding-sheet; In life I longed to see it wave, And followed where it led, But now my eyes grow dim, my hand Would grasp its last bright shred. II Oh, I had hopes to meet you, boys, On many a well-fought field, When to our bright green banner, boys, The treacherous foe would yield; But now, alas, I am denied My dearest earthly prayer, You'll follow and you'll meet the foe But I shall not be there. III But though my body molder, boys, My spirit will be free, And every comrade's honor, boys, Will still be dear to me; And in the thick and bloody fight, Let not your courage lag, For I'll be there, and hovering near Around the dear old flag! This song, written by the Countess Markiewicz to the tune of "The Young May Moon," had a great effect in Dublin, before the rising, in preventing the British from getting Irish recruits. It was sung everywhere and went thus: ANTI-RECRUITING SONG I The recruiters are raidin' old Dublin, boys, It's them we'll have to be troublin', boys, We'll go to their meetin's and give them such greetin's, We'll give them in German for fun, me boys; 'Tis the Germans they're out to destroy, me boys, Whose prosperity did so annoy, me boys, So let each Irish blade just stick to his trade And let Bull do his own dirty work, me boys. CHORUS For the Germans are winning the war, me boys, And England is feeling so sore, me boys, They're passing conscription, the only prescription To make Englishmen go to the front, me boys. II Your boss, he won't go to the war, me boys, Hun bullets do him so annoy, me boys, So kindly he frees you, he does it to squeeze you To fight for his money and him, me boys; They've hunger conscription in Ireland, boys, You'll starve till you're thin as a wire, me boys, You'll get very thin, but you won't care a pin For you'll know it's for Ireland's sake, me boys. CHORUS For the English are losing the war, me boys, And they want _us_ all killed before, me boys, The great German nation has sworn their damnation, And we'll echo the curse with a will, me boys. III