Explore Poems GO!

The Battle Eve Of The Irish Brigade

THE mess-tent is full, and the glasses are set,
And the gallant Count Thomond is president yet;
The vet’ran arose, like an uplifted lance,
Crying—“Comrades, a health to the monarch of France!”
With bumpers and cheers they have done as he bade
For King Louis is loved by the Irish Brigade.

“A health to King James,” and they bent as they quaffed,
“Here’s to George the Elector,” and fiercely they laughed,
“Good luck to the girls we wooed long ago,
Where Shannon, and Barrow, and Blackwater flow;”
Read More
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS

Delivering Poems Around The World

Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...

6/24/2021 2:34:24 PM # 1.0.0.634