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The Irishmen desert never The people that treat them well;
Their friends they love forever; Their foes may "go to------!"
" Steady, steady, keep cool, my boys, Now they are near—ready—fire !"
Thus their noble chieftain cries, And they fire and never tire.
Hear the heavy, thundering- sound, The men of war they cry;
The dull earth itself resounds As the foemen fight and die. •
But hurrah ! the white flag's flying1— See, they spare the fallen foe !
They attend the wounded—dying— The brave will have it so.
O, Davis Guards ! ye men of war, YouVe made a glorious name !
Thus alwa3^s guard our Texas Star, And preserve, for aye, 3rour fame.
And when around the social glass In years to come, you meet,
O ne'er forget the Sabine Pass ! But its mem'ries fondly greet.