The battle of the Diamond!
Round, loyal, let it pass!
We'll drink it with a glowing soul,
And from a ruby glass!
Full let the rich red wind pour forth
Its fountain and its flood,
In token that the loyal won
That battle with their blood.
2. The battle of the Diamond!
Far let the watchword fly,
When craven Papish rebels crouch'd
Upon the earth to die!
Slain by devoted men and true,
Who fought with he art and blade,
And strengthened in their ambush vile,
By swords they had betrayed.
3. The battle of the Diamond!
We'll toast it well and wide.
Shamed rebels! Let it rouse alike
Their passion and their pride!
And if the coward host again
Fling back the traitor's door,
We'll meet them and we'll battle them,
And vanquish as before.
4. The battle of the Diamond!
A triumph song we sing!
We care not how the rebels roar,
Nor how the welkin ring;
The shout of Protestants shall swell,
Voice-borne from shore to shore;
And it shall be in Ireland
A toast for evermore!
5. The battle of the Diamond!
A triumph song we sing;
Hurrah! We fought it for our faith!
We won it for our King!
Our King! Whom Papist fools denied,
To follow Priest and Pope;
But fallen, we left the m without life,
And living without hope.
| 6. The battle of the Diamond!
Again fill full the bowl!
And as more generous spirits rise,
Let traitors shrink in soul!
Theirs was the net of the cowards cast
The prize too was their own,
Slaughter from good and gallant men
Who battled for the throne!
7. The battle of the Diamond!
And would they stay the toast?
We dare them with their Moloch power,
And with their millioned host!
Lo! At the shadow of a soul
The robbers quail beneath!
The battle of the Diamond
We drink it in their teeth!
8. The battle of the Diamond!
Again, and yet again
We waft it on the wings of wind
We won it on the plain!
And memory in the sacred shrine
Where those high deeds we hoard;
And what we gathered in the field
We cherish at the board.
9. The battle of the Diamond!
Ho! Rebels quake and start!
We fought it sound of loyalty;
We drink it sound of heart!
Let puny rebels fill with spite
Spite's a me assure o'er and o'er
Still shall it be in Ireland
A toast for evermore.
10. The battle of the Diamond!
Round, loyal, let it pass;
We'll drink it with a glowing soul,
And from a ruby glass!
Full let the rich red wine pour forth
Its fountain and its flood,
In token that the loyal won,
That battle with their blood.
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