What if a 19th-century Irish poem became a modern St Patrick’s Day festival anthem?
Shamrock Song was written by Katharine Tynan, one of the leading voices of the Irish Literary Revival. In this new high-energy Celtic pop version, her tribute to Ireland’s national emblem rises from the page into a stadium-ready celebration of Irish pride.
While roses and lilies fade with the passing seasons, the shamrock remains — resilient, faithful, and woven into the very hills of Ireland. This song transforms Tynan’s poetic devotion into a powerful anthem for today: bright, joyful, brave.
Katharine Tynan (1859–1931) was a poet, novelist, and close contemporary of W.B. Yeats. Her work celebrated Irish identity, landscape, spirituality, and national symbolism. The shamrock, long associated with St Patrick and Irish heritage, becomes in this poem a symbol of endurance and belonging.
Turn it up. Sing it loud. Let the shamrock shine. ☘️
Shamrock Song
O the red rose may be fair,
And the lily statelier;
But my shamrock, one in three,
Takes the very heart of me!
Many a lover hath the rose
When June’s musk-wind breathes and blows;
And in many a bower is heard
Her sweet praise from bee and bird.
O the red rose may be fair,
And the lily statelier;
But my shamrock, one in three,
Takes the very heart of me!
Through the gold hours dreameth she,
In her warm heart passionately,
Her fair face hung languid-wise:
O her breath of honey and spice!
Like a fair saint virginal
Stands your lily, silver and tall;
Over all the flowers that be
Is my shamrock dear to me.
But my shamrock, one in three,
Takes the very heart of me!
Over all the flowers that be
Is my shamrock dear to me.
Shines the lily like the sun,
Crystal-pure, a cold sweet nun;
With her austere lip she sings
To her heart of heavenly things.
Gazeth through a night of June
To her sister-saint, the moon;
With the stars communeth long
Of the angels and their song.
But when summer died last year
Rose and lily died with her;
Shamrock stayeth every day,
Be the winds of gold or grey.
Irish hills, as grey as the dove,
Know the little plant I love;
Warm and fair it mantles them,
Stretching down from throat to hem.
And it laughs o’er many a vale,
Sheltered safe from storm and gale;
Sky and sun and stars thereof
Love the gentle plant I love.
Soft it clothes the ruined floor
Of many an abbey, grey and hoar,
And the still home of the dead
With its green is carpeted.
Roses for an hour of love,
With the joy and pain thereof;
Stand my lilies white to see
All for prayer and purity.
These are white as the harvest moon,
Roses flush like the heart of June;
But my shamrock, brave and gay,
Glads the tired eyes every day.
O the red rose shineth rare,
And the lily saintly fair;
But my shamrock, one in three,
Takes the inmost heart of me!
🎬 Credits
Poem by Katharine Tynan (1859–1931) – Public Domain
Original Music & Melody © 2026 Irish Longing
Arrangement, Production & Recording © 2026 Irish Longing
All Rights Reserved
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