Burke Of The Brave Brigade.

A poem by A. H. Laidlaw

Inscribed to Dennis F. Burke, last Commander of the Irish Brigade, at Gettysburg.


THE SPIRIT OF THE SOUTH.

"Why come ye to this mountain, lads,
In panoply of war?
Why leave ye the hills of your native heath,
To seek these heights afar?"


BURKE OF THE BRAVE BRIGADE.

"We have come to unchain the slave,
And not for a dress parade;
We have come to save man's flesh from the lash,"
Said Burke of the Brave Brigade.
"We have heard his low cry afar,
We have felt the self-same chain,
And we've come, my friends, through peace or war,
To make the land of the Union Star
The land without a stain."


THE SPIRIT OF THE SOUTH.

"Go home to your native soil,
Ye sons of the Celtic brave;
You will have to fight till the last man falls
To free the Southern slave."


BURKE OF THE BRAVE BRIGADE.

"We have come to this fight to-day
With no maiden, bloodless blade;
We have come to fight till the last man falls,"
Said Burke of the Brave Brigade.
"We have felt of an iron heel,
We have known a tyrant's hand,
We have come to fight till the Rebels reel
From the shotted shell of our cannon peal,
And the hero-handled brand."


THE SPIRIT OF THE SOUTH.

"Then come to the battle charge!
Welcome the Celtic yell!
'Twixt you and the South, at the cannon's mouth,
'Tis Gettysburg or Hell!"


BURKE OF THE BRAVE BRIGADE.

"Then 'tis Gettysburg Heights or Hell!
We are here till the game is played;
And a Hell he will feel who dares our steel,"
Said Burke of the Brave Brigade.
So they fought, and the story runs
(All thanks to the Heavenly Powers),
That the field was won by the Celtic sons;
For Hell flashed Leeward from out their guns,
And Gettysburg is ours!

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