My name is John Riley I'll have your ear only a while I left my dear home in Ireland It was death, starvation or exile And when I got to America It was my duty to go Enter the Army and slog across Texas To join in the war against Mexico
It was there in the pueblos and hillsides That I saw the mistake I had made Part of a conquering army With the morals of a bayonet blade So in the midst of these poor, dying Catholics Screaming children, the burning stench of it all Myself and two hundred Irishmen Decided to rise to the call
From Dublin City to San Diego We witnessed freedom denied So we formed the Saint Patrick Battalion And we fought on the Mexican side
We marched 'neath the green flag of Saint Patrick Emblazoned with "Erin Go Bragh" Bright with the harp and the shamrock And "Libertad para Mexicana" Just fifty years after Wolftone Five thousand miles away The Yanks called us a Legion of Strangers And they can talk as they may
We fought them in Matamoros While their volunteers were raping the nuns In Monterey and Cerro Gordo We fought on as Ireland's sons We were the red-headed fighters for freedom Amidst these brown-skinned women and men Side by side we fought against tyranny And I daresay we'd do it again
We fought them in five major battles Churobusco was the last Overwhelmed by the cannons from Boston We fell after each mortar blast Most of us died on that hillside In the service of the Mexican state So far from our occupied homeland We were heroes and victims of fate