God rest you, merry gentlemen, and keep you in your mirth! Was ever kingdom turned so soon to ashes, blood, and earth? 'Twixt the summer and the snow--seeding-time and frost-- Arms and victual, hope and counsel, name and country lost! Singing:--_Let down by the foot and the head-- Shovel and smooth it all! So do we bury a Nation dead ..._ And who shall be next to fall, good sirs, With your good help to fall? THE IRISH GUARDS 1918 We're not so old in the Army List, But we're not so young at our trade, For we had the honour at Fontenoy Of meeting the Guards' Brigade. 'Twas Lally, Dillon, Bulkeley, Clare, And Lee that led us then, And after a hundred and seventy years We're fighting for France again! _Old Days! The wild geese are flighting, Head to the storm as they faced it before! For where there are Irish there's bound to be fighting, And when there's no fighting, it's Ireland no more! Ireland no more!_ The fashion's 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 to-day. But, before they changed their clothes, The half of Europe knew our fame, As all of Ireland knows! _Old Days! The wild geese are flying, Head to the storm as they faced it before! For where 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 days come back no more Than water under the bridge But the bridge it stands and the water runs As red as yesterday, And the Irish move to the sound of the guns Like salmon to the sea. _Old Days! The wild geese are ranging, Head to the storm as they faced it before! For where there are Irish their hearts are unchanging, And when they are changed, it is Ireland no more! Ireland no more!_