‘Eighty-eighty and Inniskillen,
Boys that’s able, boys that’s willin’,
Faugh-a-ballagh and County Down,
Stand by the Harp, and stand by the Crown.
So, love, farewell!
‘The colonel cries, “Boys, are yez ready?”
“We’re at your back, sir, firm and steady,
Our pouches filled with ball and pouther,
And a firelock sloped on every shoulther.”
So, love, farewell!