Camp Song Of The Chicago Irish Brigade

Ye sons of green Erin, assemble
 and join in the battle's array
 The usurpers and traitors shall tremble
 when they see the brigade in the fray
 Go and march to the battlefield proudly,
 let the foe at your might be dismayed
 And the trumpet of fame shall sound loudly
 the praise of the Irish Brigade
 Old Grann now looks over the ocean
 and hears the fierce bugle of Mars
 And the strength of her hearts high devotion
 is roused for the Stripes and the Stars
 And she raises her voice loud as thunder,
 that voice which was always obeyed
 Saying, "Boys, cut the rebels a-sunder,
 with the swords of the Irish Brigade!"
 In view of the guilt and the treason,
 the goddess of liberty sighs
 Let us up and defend her in season,
 and bring back the joy of her eyes
 Bear the stars and the stripes o'er you proudly,
 and ne'er let your march be delayed
 'Til the foe flies in terror before you,
 when charged by the Irish Brigade
 Go and march to the battlefield proudly,
 let the foe at your might be dismayed
 And the trumpet of fame shall sound loudly
 the praise of the Irish Brigade!