Quotes
Quotes - Cherry
Loud roared the dreadful thunder,
The rain a deluge showers.
As she lay, on that day,
In the bay of Biscay, O!
We rest on Thee, our shield and our defender! Thine is the battle, Thine shall be the praise; When passing through the gates of pearly splendor, Victors, we rest with Thee, through endless days.
There's a dear little plant that grows in our isle, 'Twas St. Patrick himself sure that set it; And the sun on his labor with pleasure did smile, And with dew from his eye often wet it. It thrives through the bog, through the brake, and the mireland; And he called it the dear little shamrock of Ireland-- The sweet little shamrock, the dear little shamrock, The sweet little, green little, shamrock of Ireland!
