Here is a text of the "Irish patriotic song" that toadfrog quoted above. I'm surprised no one has posted this version before—but then, it seems it is rarely published anywhere. I failed to find it with Google Book Search.

The Library of Congress and the Bodleian Library each have copies of the broadside, but they are of very poor quality, with many letters missing or broken, and many misspellings.

I found only one "good" transcription, at Songs Collected by Donagh MacDonagh. I tweaked it in a few places to make it agree more closely with the broadside, except in places where the broadside made no sense.

GARRYOWEN

1. Oh, Garryowen is gone to rack.
Her blood is on the outlaw's track.
The night hangs starless, cold and black
    Above the shining river;
Yet voices live along her walls
That ring out like old bugle calls,
Through lonesome streets and ruined halls:
    "Our native land forever!"
Then hip hurrah! for Garryowen,
For, as stands the Treaty stone,
Our Irish hearts will bear alone
    For Garryowen na glora.

2. On those old walls brave Sarsfield stood
And looked into the Shannon's flood
And lo! 'twas flowing red with blood
    Of foreign foes to freedom.
Within the good old town is still
For Ireland's cause some blood to spill
And hearts to fight with right good will,
    And Sarsfield is yet to lead 'em.
Then three times three for Limerick town,
And Sarsfield's men of high renown
Who tramp the English banner down
    In Garryowen na glora.

3. Our good sires met the English Lords,
Their hands forever on their swords,
Their slashing blows the only words
    They deigned to give the foemen;
And we will take our fathers' place
And scowl into the Saxon face
The hatred of a royal race
    That will be slaves to no men.
Then draw your swords for Garryowen
And swear upon the Treaty stone
To live for Ireland's sake alone
    In Garryowen na glora.

4. Oh! for an hour in Garryowen,
In the crimson light of days long flown,
Our banners of green to the gay winds thrown
    To the chorus of the cannon;
To hear the thrilling bugle's call,
And Sarsfield's cry: "Behold the Gall!"
Hurrah! to leap the fosse and wall
    And pike them in the Shannon,
Then toast the men who fought and won
Beneath our banner of the sun,
And we can do what they have done
    In Garryowen na glora.

5. Though Garryowen is gone to rack,
We'll win her golden glories back;
The night that shrouds her, cold and black,
    We'll light with song and story;
And though her walls are overthrown,
We'll build them high yet, stone on stone,
And freedom shall be Queen alone,
    In Garryowen na glora.
So three times three for Garryowen,
Her old gray walls and Treaty stone!
We live for Ireland's cause alone
    In Garryowen na glora.