THE LAST MOMENTS

                    OF

 DANIEL O'CONNELL.

      AIR,—"Poor Irish Stranger."

BIRT, Printer, 39, Great St. Andrew Street,
              Seven Dials, London.

A voice from old Erin, so sad and endearing,
So mournful in sorrow did say—
We've lost our champion of freedom,O'Connell
In his tomb he in silence does lay.
Many years he did struggle our rights to
maintain,
And to ease old Hibernia of sorrow and pain,
We shall not behold his equal again,
He is gone we shall never see him more.

His dear native land he loved to distraction,
Tho' foes did him daily surround,
He strove with all might to gain satisfaction,
And his enemies crush to the ground.
Glories for Erin he manfully won,
Revered and respected by all Erin's sons,
His days now are ended, his labour is done,
He is gone, we shall never see him more.

In Carlow, in Antrim, and famed Londonderry
They in sorrow for Daniel do weep,
In Limerick, Waterford, Galway, and Kerry,
They say he in glory does sleep.
In Belfast, in Mayo, Tralee, and Tyrone,
They weep for the son of the great church of
Rome,
Erin's wanderers he struggled to bring to their
home,
But he's gone, we shall never see him more

Full forty long years for honour and freedom
Brave Daniel O'Connell did fight,
Although in a prison his foes did confine him
He struggled for poor Erin's right,
He was bold, undaunted, loyal and brave,
From oppression his country he struggled to
save,
But now in death's arms he is laid in the grave
He is gone, we shall never see him more !

Oh ! weep old Hibernia in silence and sorrow
And cause all thy children to mourn,
He is gone ! he is dead ! his spirit has fled,
From whence he can never return,
He was undaunted, brave, valiant and bold,
The sufferings of Erin so often he told,
Write Daniel O'Connell in letters of gold,
He is gone, we shall never see him more !

His glories by Erin shall long be recorded,
While his spirit in glory shall shine
For he was a son, a true son of Hibernia,
His equal we never shall find.
He was true to his country, his church, and
his queen,
He was proud of the sweet little shamrock so
green.
On the hills of Clontarf he by thousands was
seen,
But he is gone, we shall never see him more

Oh ! Daniel my darling, in soorrow said Erin
O'Connell, sweet Gramachree,
For thee we shall weep, our patriot noble,
Thy like we shall never more see,
If we search the world over his like we can't
find,
Valiant, courageous, and noble in mind,
His name in bright glory for ever will shine,
He is gone, we shall never see him more !