Wars > Other Wars & Battles

    FIGHTING ON THE RHINE.

The " Dogs of War " they are let loose, and Europe's
in a flame,
The sound of cannon it is heard, o'er Continent and
main,
To aggrandise his vast estate, the Prussians flushed
with wine,
Commenced the play, but they'll rue the day, their
army crossed tne Rhine.
                                                To aggrandise, &c.

The first engagement that took place, the Prussians
suffered sore,
And Saarbruck town of high renown, we left them in
their gore,
The next attack mas at strong Forbach, when we
crushed the Prussian line.
And the French so true, fought seven to that day up-
on the Rhine.
                                                The next attack, &c.

The next advance the Prussians made, Woerth it was
the scene,
Where MacMahon's corps weary and sore, were rest-
ing on the green,
They were surprised just at sunset, by the enemy
forming line,
And the bugle sounded battle, boys, that morn upon
the Rhine.
                                                They were surprised, &c.

One hundred thousand of the foe, their shot and shell
did pour
Into our noble little band in thousands thirty-four,
But our brave boys, Zouaves and Turcos, ten times
they broke their line,
And their blood flow through valleys low, that day
into the Rhine.
                                                But our brave boys, &c.

But thr tide of battle quick did turn, as soon I will
relate,
Oo the 18th day of August, most glorious to relate,
The Prussians marched from Borony wood in a doub-
le formed line,
Revenge we'll have, MacMahon did cry, for our loss
upon the Rhine.
                                        The Prussians marched, &c.

But the victory could not be ours, their numbers
were so great,
So after fighting fifteen hours, we were ordered to
retreat,
Twas here our corps, they suffered sore, before they
gained their line,
By Prussian balls and cavalry, that day upon the
Rhine.
                                        ;'Twas here our our corps, &c.

One hundred and forty thousand of the Prussians did
advance,
Against our little army, seventy thonsand sous of
France,
At Metx, 'tis true we made them rue, for their blood
did flow like wine,
And forty thousand Prussians fell while crossing o'er
the Rhine,
                                                At Metz, &c.

The struggles of that awful day, to paint I never can,
Or MacMahon's acts of bravery, our noble Irishman,
His soldiers filled a glass to him of sparkling
Moselle wine,
And loudly swore to avenge the gore shed that day
upon the Rhine.
                                                His soldiers filled, &c