The Irish Peasant To His Priest Poem by John Banim

Am I the slave they say,
Soggarth aroon?
Since you did show the way,
Soggarth aroon,
Their slave no more to be,
While they would work with me
Ould Ireland's slavery,
Soggarth aroon?

Why not her poorest man,
Soggarth aroon,
Try and do all he can,
Soggarth aroon,
Her commands to fulfil
Of his own heart and will,
Side by side with you still,
Soggarth aroon?

Loyal and brave to you,
Soggarth aroon,
Yet be no slave to you,
Soggarth aroon,--
Nor, out of fear to you,
Stand up so near to you--
Och! out of fear to you!
Soggarth aroon!

Who, in the winter's night,
Soggarth aroon,
When the could blast did bite,
Soggarth aroon,
Came to my cabin--dour,
And, on my earthen--flure,
Knelt by me, sick and poor,
Soggarth aroon?

Who, on the marriage--day,
Soggarth aroon,
Made the poor cabin gay,
Soggarth aroon--
And did both laugh and sing,
Making our hearts to ring,
At the poor christening,
Soggarth aroon?

Who, as friend only met,
Soggarth aroon,
Never did flout me yet,
Soggarth aroon?
And when my hearth was dim,
Gave, while his eye did brim,
What I should give to him,
Soggarth aroon?

Och! you, and only you,
Soggarth aroon!--
And for this I was true to you,
Soggarth aroon;
In love they'll never shake,
When for ould Ireland's sake,
We a true part did take,
Soggarth aroon!