John Banim

(1798-1842 / Ireland)

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Best Poem of John Banim

The Irish Soldier

The Irish soldier, cast for fight,
Stood to his arms at dead of night,
Watching the east, until its ray
To the battle--field should show his way;--
Soldier, soldier, soldier brave,
You will fight though they call you slave,
And though you but help a bandit hand
Uncheck'd to kill in your native land.

The soldier thought on his chance of doom--
How the trampled sod might be his tomb--
How, in evening's dusk, his sightless stare
To the small pale stars might upward glare;--
Soldier, soldier, soldier brave,
You will fight though you think of the ...

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The Clare Election

[Note: Air--``The Boyne Water.'']

July the first, in Ennis town,
There was a glorious battle,
Though not a man did there go down,
Nor not a cannon rattle;
And yet 'twas strength and courage, too,
That put them to the rout, boys--
The courage to be blunt and true,

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