When boyhood's fire was in my blood
I read of ancient freemen,
For Greece and Rome who bravely stood,
Three hundred men and three men;
And then I prayed I yet might see
Our fetters rent in twain,
And Ireland, long a province, be.
Nation once again!

 [bad word] 
Nation once again,
Nation once again,
And Ireland, long a province, be
Nation once again!

And from that time, through wildest woe,
That hope has shone a far light,
Nor could love's brightest summer glow
Outshine that solemn starlight;
It seemed to watch above my head
In [bad word]  field and fane,
Its angel voice sang round my bed,
Nation once again!

 [bad word] 

It whisper'd too, that freedom's ark
And service high and holy,
Would be profaned by feelings dark
And passions vain or lowly;
For, [bad word] from God's right hand,
And needs a Godly train;
And righteous men must make our land
Nation once again!

 [bad word] 

So, as I grew from boy to man,
I bent me to that bidding
My spirit of each selfish plan
And [bad word] passion ridding;
For, thus I hoped some day to aid,
Oh, can such hope be vain?
When my dear country shall be made
Nation once again!

 [bad word]