Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from The Fighting Race and Other Poems and Ballads
Up Marye's Heights, and my old canteen Stopped a rebel ball on its way. There were blossoms of blood on our sprigs of green Kelly and Burke and Shea And the dead didn't brag. Well, here's to the ?ag! Said Kelly and Burke and Shea.
I wish 'twas in Ireland, for there's the place, Said Burke, that we'd die by right, In the cradle of our soldier race, After one good stand-up fight. My grandfather fell on Vinegar Hill, And fighting was not his trade; But his rusty pike's in the cabin still With Hessian blood on the blade. Aye, aye, said Kelly, the pikes were great When the word was 'clear the way We were thick on the roll in ninety-eight Kelly and Burke and Shea. Well, here's to the pike and the sword and like! Said Kelly and Burke and Shea.
And Shea, the scholar, with rising joy, Said, We were at Ramillies.
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