The Irish Brigade

The mess is tent is full
And the glasses are set
And the gallant Count Thomond
Is President yet
The veterans arose
Like an uplifted lance
Crying "Comrades, a health to
The Monarch of France!"
With a thunderous cheer
Now they did as they were bade
For King Louis is loved
By the Irish Brigade

A health to King James
And to Sarsfield's wise craft
"Here's to George the elector!"
And fiercely they laughed
Good luck to the girls
We wooed long ago
Where the Shannon and Barrow
And black waters flow
You would think in old Ireland
That they were afraid
But in battle there's none like
The Irish Brigade

But surely that light
Does not come from a lamp
And the boys, they are all
Singing songs round the camp
Hurrah, boys, the morning
Of battle has come
And the generals beating
On many a drum
They rushed from the revel
To join the parade
For the sword is the light
Of the Irish Brigade

They fought as they reveled
Just fiery and true
And the victors, they left on
The field of the few
And the few who survived
Fought and drank as before
For the lands of their hearts
Hoped they never saw more
In farfal and fields
From Dunkirk to Brigade
Lay the soldiers and chiefs
Of the Irish Brigade

In farfal and fields
From Dunkirk to Brigade
Lay the soldiers and chiefs
Of the Irish Brigade