Irish to English

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I am not of your blood;I never loved your ways:If e'er your deed was goodI yet was slow to praise.

Irish and rebel both,And both unto the end--And here I pledge you troth,And here I stand your friend.

This scrum that blights our fame,This mildew on our land--The murrain on their name:My spittle on their hand.

The gates of Hell assail:Look on yon stricken trench--There dies the loyal Gael:Let not your talkers blench.

© Christopher John Brennan