When on RamillesÂ´ bloody field
The baffled French were forced to yield,
The victor Saxon backward reeled
Before the charge of ClareÂ´s Dragoons.
The flags we conquered in that fray
Look lone in Ypres choir they say,
WeÂ´ll win them company today,
Or bravely die like ClareÂ´s Dragoons.
Viva la, for IrelandÂ´s wrong!
Viva la, for IrelandÂ´s right!
Viva la, in battle throng,
For a Spanish steed and a 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 ClareÂ´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 ClareÂ´s dragoons.
Viva la, the New Brigade!
Viva la, the old one too!
Viva la, the Rose shall fade
And the Shamrock shine for ever new!
O comrades! Think how Ireland pines,
Her exiled lords, her rifled shrines,
Her dearest hope the ordered lines
And bursting charge of ClareÂ´s Dragoons.
Then fling the Green Flag to the sky,
And Â´Limerick!Â´ be your battle cry,
And charge til blood flows fetlock-high
Around the track of ClareÂ´s Dragoons!