The poem
Come gather round me, Parnellites, And praise our chosen man; Stand upright on your legs awhile, Stand upright while you can, For soon we lie where he is laid, And he is underground; Come fill up all those glasses And pass the bottle round.
And here's a cogent reason, And I have many more, He fought the might of England And saved the Irish poor, Whatever good a farmer's got He brought it all to pass; And here's another reason, That parnell loved a lass.
And here's a final reason, He was of such a kind Every man that sings a song Keeps Parnell in his mind. For Parnell was a proud man, No prouder trod the ground, And a proud man's a lovely man, So pass the bottle round.
The Bishops and the party That tragic story made, A husband that had sold hiS wife And after that betrayed; But stories that live longest Are sung above the glass, And Parnell loved his countrey And parnell loved his lass.
this poem reads like an Irish wake. It's a shame they didn't realize what they had in Parnell when they were persecuting him.