“Clare’s Dragoons” is a song by Thomas Osborne Davis (1814-1845), a poet and patriot who was born in Mallow, Co. Cork. Davis became a lawyer and immersed himself in Irish politics and literature, writing numerous essays and poems for The Nation. His songs, including “Lament for Owen Roe O'Neill (The)”, “Clare's Dragoons”, “A Nation Once Again,” “The West's Asleep,” and “My Grave” are still popular. “Clare’s Dragoons”, printed in The Nation around 1840, is an ode to the Irish units-including Clare’s Dragoons”--who fought on the Continent, often in the service of France.
Lyrics:
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!
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.
Viva la, the New Brigade!
Viva la, the Old one, too!
Viva 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 bearna baoghail is still his place,
The foremost of his bold 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!
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.
Viva la, for Ireland’s wrong!
Viva la, for Ireland’s right!
Viva la, in battle 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!
Viva la, the New Brigade!
Viva la, the Old one, too!
Viva la, the rose shall fade,
And the shamrock shine for ever new!
Негізгі бет Clare's Dragoons - Our Lady's Choral Society (1965)
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