Ye Erin sons of hill and plain, Come listen to my feeble strain, Perhaps you'll think it all a dream, Though every line is true, I'll sing to you of our long campaign, Through summer sun and winter's rain, To Richmond's gates and back again, I will relate to you. In February, sixty-two, When passing in a grand review, We were told our foes we would pursue, And Richmond overthrow, To Washington we went straightway, And sailed in steamers down the bay Until that we were forced next day, To land at Fort Monroe. At Hampton then we camp'd around, Until brave Little Mac came down And ordered us up to Yorktown, Our strength there to combine; And there we worked both night and day, And drove the rebel hordes away, And walking through the town next day, Was the Irish sixty-ninth. From Yorktown then we sailed away, And landed at West Point next day, And gaily marched along the way, And camped among the pines. And there we stopped three weeks or more, Until we heard the cannons roar And musketry come like a shower Along the Rebel lines. Then double quick away we went, Across the river we were sent To drive the rebels back we meant, No man fell out of line, There Philadelphia's adopted sons Bravely supported Rickett's guns, And when away the rebels run, Cheers the gallant Sixty-ninth. At Fair Oaks then long weeks we lay, And picket fighting night and day, I've seen our brave boys borne away, And some in death grow pale, And in the Seven Days' fight, going back On bloody fields we left our track, When other Regiments falling back, We stood as at Glendale

Where horse and foot retreat that day, All bleeding from that dreadful fray Right manfully we fought our way In one unbroken line And when our bullets all were spent, Three cheers we for the Union sent, And charging at the grey coats went, The Irish sixty-ninth. And on Antietam field again We boldly faced the Iron rain. Some of our boys upon the plain, They found a bloody grave, Where our brave General, Little Mac, Made boasting Lee to clear the track, And take his ragged Rebels back Across the Potomac's wave. At Fredericksburg our old brigade, With Owen, who never was afraid, As soon as the pontoon was laid, We crossed in the first line, And though the bullets flew around, We drove the grey coats from the town, Such work is always done up brown, By the Irish sixty-ninth. Next day out on the battle field, Old veterans they were forced to yield, For the Rebels had a Stonewall shield, Protected front and rear. The cannons blazing shot and shell, 'Twas like the gaping jaws of hell, Where many a brave man round us fell, We boldly done our share. O'Kane, our Colonel, nobly stood, Where the grass was turning red with blood, And growing to a crimson flood, We still kept in our line, Though many got a bloody shroud, As Philadelphia's sons we are proud, And sing of deeds in praises loud Of the gallant sixty-ninth.