Altho' on Limerick's battered wall Her daughters nobly died,
Let history's pages still recall their chivalry with pride.
We'll drink to-night with spirits bright, and loving hearts as well,
Perhaps as bold in days of old—The women of Clonmel!
The women of Clonmel, my boys,
The women of Clonmel,
We'll proudly toast Tipperary's boast,
The women of Clonmel!
When Cromwell's sacrilegious horde-
A base ignoble crew—
Resolved to crush with fire and sword our own immortal Hugh,
Who cheered him on till victory shone, and many a tyrant fell—
While freedom's song re-echoed long—The women of Clonmel.
Clonmel! The memory of the past is in thy heart to-day;
Thy sons await the trumpet blast, impatient for the fray.
And colleens, too, with eyes of blue, within thy bosom dwell,
Who'd gladly fight for Ireland's right—The women of Clonmel.