We're
not so old in the Army list,
But we're not so young at our trade,
For we had the honour at Fonteroy,
Of meeting the Guards Brigade.
Twas Lally, Dillon, Buckley, Clare
And Lee that led us then,
And after a hundred and seventy years
Were fighting for France again.
Old
days, the wild geese are fighting,
Head to the storm as they faced it before,
for where there are Irish,
there's bound to be fighting
And when there is not fighting, it's
Ireland no more, Ireland no more
The fashions all for Khaki now,
But once through France we went
Full dressed in scarlet Army cloth,
The English - left at Ghent.
They're fighting on our side today,
But before they changed their clothes,
The half of Europe knew our Form
As all of Ireland knows.
Old
today's. The wild geese are fighting,
Head to the storm as they faced it before,
For were there are Irish there `s memory undying,
and when we forget,
it is Ireland no more,
Ireland no more.
From Barry wood to Gouzeaucourt,
From Boyne to Pilkem ridge,
The ancient years return no more,
Then water under the bridge.
But the bridge it stands, and the water runs,
as red as yesterday,
and the Irish go to the sound of the guns
as Salmon to the sea.
Old days, the wild geese are ranging
Head to the storm as they faced it before,
For were there are Irish their hearts are unchanging,
And when they are changed.
it is Ireland no more, Ireland no more
Were not so old in the army list,
But were not so new in the ring,
For we carried our packs with Marshall Saxe
When Louis was our King.
But Douglas Haig`s our Marshall now,
And were King George's men
And after one hundred and seventy years
We're fighting for France again.
Ah
France: And did we stand by you,
When life was made splendid by gifts and rewards.
Ah France:
And will we deny you,
In the hour of your agony,
Mother of swords.
Old day's, the wild geese are fighting,
Head to the storm as they faced it before,
For while there are Irish there's loving and fighting,
And when we stop either,
it's Ireland no more,
Ireland no more.
