Killaloe March

Well I Happened to be born
At the time they cut the corn
Quite contagious to the town of Killaloe
Where to tayche us they'd a schame
And a French Mossoo he came
to instruct us in the game of parley voo.

I've one father that I swear
But he said I had a pair
And he struck me when I said it wasn't true
And the Irish for 'a jint'
Or the french for 'half a pint'
Faith we learnt it in the school at Killaloe.

CHORUS
You may talk of Boneyparty
You may talk about Ecarté
Or any other party and "Commong de portey voo"
We larnt to sing it aisey
That song the Marshalaysy
Boolong toolong the continong
We larnt at killaloe

"May we" Mosso would cry,
"Well of course you can" sez I
"Non-no"-"I know" says I with some surprise
When a boy straight up from Clare, heard his mother called a "mare"
He gave Mosso his fisht between the eyes
Says Mosso with much alarm "Go and call for Johnny Darm"
"There's no such name" says I " about the place"
"Common'?" he made reply "Come on yerself!" sez I
And I scattered all the features of his face

CHORUS

Oh boys, where was the fun, you should see him when 'twas done
His eyeballs one by one did disappear
And a doctor from the South took one look at his mouth
Which had some how got concayled behind his ear
Then he swore an awful oath, he'd have the law agin' us both
And then he'd have both Lim-e-rick and Clare
For he found it wouldn't do, to teach French in Killaloe
Unless he has a face or two to spare

CHORUS

To the magistrate he went, and a lot of time he shpent
Says the magistrate "Begorra I'm perplexed"
For a fellow who you see, spells whiskey O-D-V, (Eau de vie)
You never know what he'll be up to next
Then nothin' more was said, Mosso went home to bed
And mixed no more in Killaloe affairs
For the foreign taychers face
Was no more about the place
But was closed for alterations and repairs

CHORUS

If disgraces you would try, or would prove an alibi
Or alter your appearance just for fun
You've just one thing to do, go teach French at Killaloe
And you mother will not know you for her son
French may be very fine, its no enemy of mine
But as I think you'll eas-i-ly suppose
Whatever tongue you take, it is mighty hard to shpake
While your ear keeps changing places with your nose

CHORUS

Now I'm glad to find 'tis true, you are pleased with Killaloe
And our conduct to the teacher they did send
But I've told you all that passed, so this verse must be the last
Thats the rason I have left it to the end
We're all Irish tenants there, and we're all prepared to swear
That to the Irish language we'll be true.
But we all with one consent, when they ask us for the rent
Sure we answer then in French in Killaloe.

CHORUS

In our army we're the best
From the north, south east or west
The best of boys are following the drum.
We are mighty hard to bate,
I may say without concate,
Faith the enemy are welcome when they come.
Be they French or Dutch
It doesn't matter much,
We're the boys to give 'em sugar in their tay
For we're the Connaught Rangers,
The lads to face all dangers,
Fallaballah, fallaballah, Clear the way!

Chorus:

You may talk about your guards boys
Your lancers and hussars boys
Your fusiliers and royal artillery (without the guns)
The girls we drive'em crazy, the foe we beat them easy
The rangers from old Connaught, yaarrr, the land across the sea!

Now allow me here to state,
It is counted quite a trate,
In old Ireland just for fight for friends's sake
To crack your neighbor's head,
Or maybe your own instead.
Faith 'tis just the fun and glory of a wake
So you see all Irish boys are accustomed to such noise
It's as natural as drinking whiskey neat.
For there's none among them all, from Kingston to Donegal, Like the gallant Connaught Ranger on his beat.

Chorus

T'was Bonaparte who said as the Frenchmen on he led
Marshall Soult, be them the Rangers do you know?
Faith says Soult, there's no mistake, to our heels we'd better take
I think it's time for you and I to go.
When the colleens hear their step, it makes their hearts to leap
Aaargh, jewels will ye wist till Parrick's day?
For they are the Connaught Rangers, the boys that fear no dangers
And they're the lads that always take the sway.

Chorus

Now you haven't far to search, for the lads who best can march
The lads that never fear the longest day,
Faith you easily will know, their dashing step will show
Tis the Connaught boys who always lead the way.
If me words perhaps you doubt, come and join 'em on a route
I'm thinkin' you'll not find it quite a treat;
You'll see them in the van, you may catch them if you can
Faith you'll have to travel fast or you'll be late.

We're the Irish Rangers,
The boys who fear no danger,
We're the boys from paddy's land
YO!
Shut up you buggers and fight