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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 245 |
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We looked upon that banner,
And we swore to God on high To smite to-day the Saxon's might —
To conquer or to die.
Loud swells the charging trumpet —
'Tis a voice from our own land — God of battles ! God of vengeance !
Guide today the patriot's brand ! There are stains to wash away,
There are memories to destroy, In the best blood of the Briton
To-day at Fontenoy.
Plunge deep the fiery rowels
In a thousand reeking flanks — Down, chivalry of Ireland,
Down on the British ranks ! Now shall their serried columns
Beneath our sabres reel — Through their ranks, then, with the war-horse
Through their bosoms with the steel.
With one shout for good King Louis
And the fair land of the vine, Like the wrathful Alpine tempest
We swept upon their line — Then ran along the battle-field
Triumphant our hurrah, And we smote them down, still cheering,
"Erin, slangthagal go bragh ! " '
Erin . . . bragh, Erin, your bright health forever. |
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