{title: Wearing Of The Green}
{meta: credit_status unverified}
{meta: source https://www.jasonpaul.net/songs/the-wearing-of-the-green/}
{capo: 0}
{c: verse 1}
Oh [G]Paddy dear, and did you hear the [D7]news that’s going round
The [C]shamrock is for[G]bid by law to [Am]grow on Irish [G]ground
And Saint Patrick’s Day no more we’ll keep, his [D7]color can’t be seen
For [C]there’s a bloody [G]law against the [Am]wearing of the [G]green

I had [C]met with Napper [G]Tandy and he [D7]took me by the [G]hand
And he [C]said “how’s poor old [G]Ireland, and how[A]ever does she [D7]stand?”

She’s the [G]most distressful country now that [D7]ever you have seen
They’re [C]hanging men and [G]women there for [Am]wearin of the [G]green

{c: verse 2}
Then [G]since the color we must wear is [D7]England's cruel red
Sure [C]Ireland’s sons will [G]ne’er forget the [Am]blood that they have [G]shed
You may take the shamrock from your hat and [D7]cast it in the sod
But [C]twill take root and [G]flourish still, though [Am]under foot tis [G]trod

When the [C]law can stop the [G]blades of grass from [D7]growing as they [G]grow
And when [C]all the leaves in [G]summertime their [A]verdure dare not [D7]show

Then I [G]sure will change the color that I [D7]wear in my caubeen
But [C]till that day, please [G]God, I’ll stick to [Am]wearin of the [G]green

{c: verse 3}
But [G]if at last our color should be [D7]torn from Ireland’s heart
Her [C]sons with shame and [G]sorrow from the [Am]fear old soil will [G]part
I’ve heard whisper of a country that lies [D7]far beyond the sea
Where [C]rich and poor stand [G]equal in the [Am]light of freedom’s [G]day

Dear old [C]Erin must we [G]leave you, driven [D7]by the tyrant’s [G]hand
Must we [C]ask a mother’s [G]welcome from a [A]strange but happy [D7]land

Where the [G]cruel cross of England’s thraldom [D7]never shall be seen
And [C]where, thank God, we’ll [G]live and die still [Am]wearin of the [G]green