CLARE'S DRAGOONS by THOMAS OSBORNE DAVIS

Vive la! for Ireland's wrong,
And vive la! for Ireland's right;
Vive la! in the battle throng,
For a Spanish steed and sabre bright!

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.
Vive la! for the New Brigade
Vive la! the old one too!
Vive la! the rose shall fade,
And the shamrock shine for ever new!

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 gap of danger is still his place,
The foremost of his bold Dragoons.
Vive la! the New Brigade!
Vive la! the old one too;
Vive la! the rose shall fade,
And the shamrock shine for ever new!

There's not a man in the squadron here
Was ever known to flinch or fear;
Though first in charge, the last in rear
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,
Vive la! for Ireland's wrong!
Vive la! for Ireland's right!
Vive la! in battled throng,
For a Spanish steed and sabre bright!

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!
Vive la! the New Brigade!
Vive la! the old one too!
Vive la! the rose shall fade,
And the shamrock shine for ever new!

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