When the route is proclaimed thro' the old barrack yard,
To part from our sweethearts it surely is hard!
But smother the sigh boys, and swallow the tear,
And comfort the darlings with words of good cheer.
While the bugles they blow so gaily oh!
And away to the battle we marching go.

Then it's "Right about face," and we're clearing the street,
"Good luck" and "God bless you!" from all that we meet,
While all the lazy ones bounce from their beds,
And up to their windies and out go their heads.
While the bugles they blow so gaily oh!
And away to the battle we marching go.

Now it's "Halt, Royal Irish!" now "Dress by the left!"
And on to the Quay through the crowd we have cleft;
Here's cheers for Old Ireland, with twenty cheers more,
And off with our ship from the Emerald shore. 
While the bugles they blow so gaily oh!
And away to the battle we marching go.