Deep beneath the rocky glen, A dragon sleeps, far from men. He dreams of gold and elder things, Of fallen lords and magic rings. But if the land is calm and still, No angry word, no spiteful will, He'll burst out from his stony bed— The firewyrm, that crawling dread! Now do you see, you strangers here? Our grumblin' keeps the danger clear! So rant, my brothers, loud and bold, Let ev'ry grievance now be told! It's for the good o' this fair land, Though outsiders may not understand. For if the dragon hears no sound, He'll rise and burn it to the ground. The old folks moan the bread's gone stale, The barman cries: "Such lifeless ale!" We curse an' shout about the weather, Our rantin' binds us all together. Now do you see, you strangers here? Our grumblin' keeps the danger clear! So rant, my brothers, loud and bold, Let ev'ry grievance now be told! It's for the good o' this fair land, Though outsiders may not understand. For if the dragon hears no sound, He'll rise and burn it to the ground. But at the fair, one summer day, The pub fell silent, so they say, A lad spoke praise—a foolish word— The dragon woke—his temper stirred! His breath is fire, his eyes glow red, Someone yelled: "You gobshite head!" It made him laugh—the danger's gone, Back t' sleep he drifted on. So rant, my brothers, shrill and high, An' don't you keep your mouth shut tight! For if we're polite, mild an' meek: Saint Paddy help us, 'cause we're weak! So rant, my brothers, loud and bold, Let ev'ry grievance now be told! It's for the good o' this fair land, Though outsiders may not understand. For if the dragon hears no sound, He'll rise and burn it to the ground. Now you wonder, I suppose, Why the dragon keeps us on our toes? The truth unveiled an' boldly told: An Irish tongue is worth a hoard of gold.
