Ready, boys, ready, the morning is breaking,
Brace up your sinews and stand to your guns;
Ireland, the shackles of centuries shaking,
Calls o’er the ocean for aid to her sons.
Now, boys, forever Erin’s endeavor
Reaches its triumph or falls on its bier;
Strengthen each soul, be it death-bed or goal,
You must decide in the dawning new year.
Steady, boys, steady, no pausing or flinching,
Comrade or foeman?—your choice must be made;
Saxon and Celt in a death-grapple clinching,
Neither has room for a neutral brigade.
Voices that palter, hearts that may falter,
There is no welcome or place for you here;
Arms but of you men—fearless and true men—
Strike the last blow in the coming new year.
Ready, boys, ready, with quick self-reliance,
Victory marches, but never despair;
Steady, boys, steady, a loud-mouthed defiance
Never scared tiger or wolf from its lair.
Silent, but ready, anxious but steady,
Lean on your arms till the signal you hear,
Then, be your story sadness or glory,
Still, ’twill illumine your country’s new year.