You've heard o' Julius Caesar, an' the great Napoleon too,
An' how the Cork Militia beat the Turks at Waterloo;
But there's a page of glory that, as yet, remains uncut,
An' that's the Martial story o' the Shlathery's Mounted Fut.
This gallant corps was organised by Shlathery's eldest son,
A single-minded poacher, with a double-breasted gun;
An' many a head was opened, aye, an' many an eye was shut,
Whin practisin' manoeuvres in the Shlathery's Mounted Fut.
CHORUS:
An' down from the mountains came the squadrons an' platoons,
Four-an'-twinty fightin' min, an' a couple o' sthout gossoons,
An' whin we marched behind the band to patriotic tunes,
We felt that fame would gild the name o' Shlathery's Light Dhragoons.
Well, first we reconnoithered round o' O'Sullivan's Shebeen -
It used to be "The Shop House," but we call it "The Canteen"
But there we saw a notice which the bravest heart unnerved
"All liquor must be settled for before the dhrink is served."
So on we marched, but soon again each warrior's heart grew pale,
For risin' high in front o' us we saw the County Jail;
An' whin the army faced about, 'twas just in time to find
A couple o' policemin had surrounded us behind.
CHORUS:
Still, from the mountains came the squadrons and platoons,
Four-an'-twinty fightin' min, an' a couple o' sthout gossoons,
Says Shlattery, "We must circumvent those bludgeonin' bosthoons,
Or else it sames they'll take the names o' Shlathery's Light Dhragoons."
"We'll cross the ditch," our leader cried, "an' take the foe in flank,"
But yells of consthernation here arose from every rank,
For posted high upon a tree we very plainly saw,
"Threspassers prosecuted, in accordance wid' the law."
"We're foiled!" exclaimed bowld Shlathery, "here ends our grand campaign,
'Tis merely throwin' life away to face that mearin' dhrain,
I'm not as bold as lions, but I'm braver nor a hin,
An' he that fights and runs away will live. to fight again!"
CHORUS:
An' back to the mountains went the squadrons and platoons,
Four-an'-twinty fightin' min an' a couple o' sthout gossoons;
The band was playing cautiously their patriotic tunes,
To sing the fame, if rather lame, o' Shlathery's Light Dhragoons.
We reached the Mountains safely, though stiff and sore with cramp; Each took a wet of whiskey neat, to dissipate the damp.
And when we'd loaded all our pipes, bould Shlathery up and said,
"To-day's immortal fight will be remembered by the dead!
I never shall forget," says he, "while this poor heart shall beat
The eager way ye followed when I headed the retreat;
Ye preferred the soldier's maxim when desisting from the strife
'Best be a coward for five minutes than a dead man all your life.'"
CHORUS:
So there in the mountains lay the squadrons and platoons
Four an' twenty fightin' men an' a couple of sthout gossoons;
They'll never more go marching out to patriotic tunes,
But all the same they sing the fame o' Shlattery's Light Dhragoons.
