There's a dear little plant that grows in our Isle,
'Twas Saint 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 shines thro' the bog thro' the brake, thro' the mireland,
And he called it the dear little Shamrock of Ireland.
Andrew Sherry
Don't forget to wear your GREEN today!
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