Kelly and Burke and Shea—
And the dead didn’t brag!” “Well, here’s to the flag!”
Said Kelly and Burke and Shea.
“I wish ’twas in Ireland—for, there’s the place,”
Said Burke, “that we’d die by right—
In the cradle of our soldier race,
After one good stand-up fight.
My grandfather fell on Vinegar Hill,
And fighting was not his trade;
But his rusty pike’s in the cabin still,