Song of the Battle EveTime -- the Ninth Century |
Thomas Moore, from Irish Melodies, vol. 10
To-morrow, comrade, we On the battle-plain must be, There to conquer, or both lie low! The morning star is up But there's wine still in the cup, And we'll take another quaff, ere we go, boy, go; We'll take another quaff, ere we go.
2. 'Tis true, in manliest eyes | 3. But daylight's stealing on; The last that o'er us shone Saw our children around us play; The next - ah! where shall we And those rosy urchins be? But - no matter - grasp thy sword and away, boy, away; No matter - grasp thy sword and away!
4. Let those, who brook the chain |