Well, as soon as a few weeks were over and gone, The terrible day iv the thrial kem on, There was sich a crowd there was scarce room to stand, An' sojers on guard, an' Dragoons sword-in-hand; An' the courthouse so full that the people were bothered, An' attorneys an' criers on the point iv bein' smothered; An' counsellors almost gev over for dead, An' the jury sittin' up in their box overhead; An' the judge settled out so detarmined an' big With his gown on his back, and an illegant wig; An' silence was called, an' the minute 'twas said The court was as still as the heart of the dead, An' they heard but the openin' of one prison lock, An' Shamus O'Brien kem into the dock. For one minute he turned his eye round on the throng, An' he looked at the bars so firm and so strong, An' he saw that he had not a hope nor a friend, A chance to escape, nor a word to defend; An' he folded his arms as he stood there alone, As calm and as cold as a statue of stone; And they read a big writin', a yard long at laste, An' Jim didn't understand it nor mind it a taste, An' the judge took a big pinch iv snuff, and he says, "Are you guilty or not, Jim O'Brien, av you plase?" An' all held their breath in the silence of dhread, An' Shamus O'Brien made answer and said: "My lord, if you ask me, if in my lifetime I thought any treason, or did any crime That should call to my cheek, as I stand alone here, The hot blush of shame, or the coldness of fear, Though I stood by the grave to receive my death-blow Before God and the world I would answer you, No! But if you would ask me, as I think it like, If in the Rebellion I carried a pike, An' fought for ould Ireland from the first to the close, An' shed the heart's blood of her bitterest foes, I answer you, Yes; and I tell you again, Though I stand here to perish, it's my glory that then In her cause I was willin' my veins should run dhry, An' that now for her sake I am ready to die." Then the silence was great, and the jury smiled bright, An' the judge wasn't sorry the job was made light; By my sowl, it's himself was the crabbed ould chap! In a twinklin' he pulled on his ugly black cap. Then Shamus's mother, in the crowd standin' by, Called out to the judge with a pitiful cry: "O judge! darlin', don't, O, don't say the word! The crather is young, have mercy, my lord; He was foolish, he didn't know what he was doin'; You don't know him, my lord--O, don't give him to ruin! He's the kindliest crathur, the tindherest-hearted; Don't part us forever, we that's so long parted! Judge mavourneen, forgive him, forgive him, my lord, An' God will forgive you--O, don't say the word!"