Treasure Island

Thomas Osborne Davis

(14 October 1814 - 16 September 1845 / Mallow / Ireland)

Clare's Dragoons


AIR--_Viva la_.


I.

When, on Ramillies' bloody field,
The baffled French were forced to yield,
The victor Saxon backward reeled
Before the charge of Clare's Dragoons.
The Flags we conquered in that fray
Look lone in Ypres' choir, they say,
We'll win them company to-day,
Or bravely die like Clare's Dragoons.


CHORUS.

_Viva la_, for Ireland's wrong!
_Viva la_, for Ireland's right!
_Viva la_, in battle throng,
For a Spanish steed, and sabre bright!


II.

The brave old lord died near the fight,
But, for each drop he lost that night,
A Saxon cavalier shall bite
The dust before Lord Clare's Dragoons.
For never, when our spurs were set,
And never, when our sabres met,
Could we the Saxon soldiers get
To stand the shock of Clare's Dragoons.


CHORUS.

_Viva la_, the New Brigade!
_Viva la_, the Old one, too!
_Viva la_, the rose shall fade,
And the shamrock shine for ever new!


III.

Another Clare is here to lead,
The worthy son of such a breed;
The French expect some famous deed,
When Clare leads on his bold Dragoons.
Our Colonel comes from Brian's race,
His wounds are in his breast and face,
The _bearna baoghail_ is still his place,
The foremost of his bold Dragoons.


CHORUS.

_Viva la_, the New Brigade!
_Viva la_, the Old one, too!
_Viva la_, the rose shall fade,
And the shamrock shine for ever new!


IV.

There's not a man in squadron here
Was ever known to flinch or fear;
Though first in charge and last in rere,
Have ever been Lord Clare's Dragoons;
But see! we'll soon have work to do,
To shame our boasts, or prove them true,
For hither comes the English crew,
To sweep away Lord Clare's Dragoons.


CHORUS.

_Viva la_, for Ireland's wrong!
_Viva la_, for Ireland's right!
_Viva la_, in battle throng,
For a Spanish steed and sabre bright!


V.

Oh! comrades! think how Ireland pines,
Her exiled lords, her rifled shrines,
Her dearest hope, the ordered lines,
And bursting charge of Clare's Dragoons.
Then fling your Green Flag to the sky.
Be 'Limerick' your battle-cry,
And charge, till blood floats fetlock-high,
Around the track of Clare's Dragoons!


CHORUS.

_Viva la_, the New Brigade!
_Viva la_, the Old one, too!
_Viva la_, the rose shall fade,
And the shamrock shine for ever new!

Submitted: Wednesday, October 13, 2010

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