Come gather round me, Parnellites

Come gather round me, Parnellites,

And praise our chosen man;

Stand upright on your legs awhile,

Stand upright while you can,

For soon we lie where he is laid,

And he is underground;

Come fill up all those glasses

And pass the bottle round.

And here's a cogent reason,

And I have many more,

He fought the might of England

And saved the Irish poor,

Whatever good a farmer's got

He brought it all to pass;

And here's another reason,

That parnell loved a lass.

And here's a final reason,

He was of such a kind

Every man that sings a song

Keeps Parnell in his mind.

For Parnell was a proud man,

No prouder trod the ground,

And a proud man's a lovely man,

So pass the bottle round.

The Bishops and the party

That tragic story made,

A husband that had sold his wife

And after that betrayed;

But stories that live longest

Are sung above the glass,

And Parnell loved his countrey

And parnell loved his lass.