Classic Poem

Yes , send her out to plough the deep,
With noble hearts aboard,
And bid her shower on those who weep,
Her rich and priceless hoard,
Till famished multitudes are fed,
And bless the land that gave them bread.

Yes, send her out, and Mercy's God
Will keep her treasured store;
The wave will calm beneath his rod,
The tempest cease to roar,
Till wafted, as by Seraph's wing,
She safely reach the perishing.

Oh, when those stars and stripes of Fame,
O'ershadow Erin's sod,
How will they bless a nation's name,
Whose land they ne'er have trod:
How will they pray that Heaven may save,
The hearts that felt — the hands that gave.

Then send her out to plough the deep,
With noble hearts aboard,
And bid her shower on those who weep,
The rich and priceless hoard,
Till famished multitudes are fed,
And bless the land that gave them bread .