John Riley came from Galway town 
in the years of the Irish hunger
He sailed away to America 
when the country was much younger
Now the place was strange and work was scarce 
and all he knew was farming
So he followed all the other men 
to a job in the US Army

Adventure calls and some men run, 
and this is their sad story
Some get drunk on demon rum, 
some get drunk on glory

Now they marched down Texas way 
to the banks of the Rio Grande
They built a fort on the banks above 
to taunt old Santa Anna
They were treated bad, and paid worse, 
and then the fighting started
And the more they fought the less 
they thought of the damned old US Army

Adventure calls and some men run, 
and this is their sad story
Some get drunk on demon rum, 
some get drunk on glory

When the church bells rang on Sunday morn 
they set his soul a shiver
Saw the Senoritas wash their hair 
on the far side of the river
John Riley and two hundred more 
Irish mercenaries
They cast their lot, right or not, 
south of the Rio Grande
Now they fought brave under the flag 
of the San Patricios
Till the Yankee soldiers beat them down 
at the battle of Churubusco
And fifteen men were whipped like mules
On the cheeks they were hot iron branded
Made to dig the graves of fifty more, 
who a hanging fate had handed

Adventure calls and some men run, 
and this is their sad story
Some get drunk on demon rum, 
some get drunk on glory

John Riley stands and drinks alone 
in a bar in Vera Cruz
And he wonders if it matters much 
if you win or if you lose
"But I'm a man who can't go home, 
I'm a vagabond, " says he
"I'm a victim of his wanderlust 
and divided loyalty"

Adventure calls and some men run, 
and this is their sad story
Some get drunk on demon rum, some get drunk on glory
Adventure calls and some men run, 
and this is their sad story
Some get drunk on demon rum, 
some get drunk on demon rum
Some get drunk on demon rum 
and some get drunk on glory