Misc Traditional – James Connolly (Guitar)

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          A great crowd had gathered, outside of Killmainin

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          Their heads all uncovered, they knelt on the ground,

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          For inside that grim prison, lay a brave Irish soldier,

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          His life for his country, about to lay down.

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          He went to his death, like a true son of Ireland,

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          The firing party he bravely did face,

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          Then the order rang out, present arms, fire,

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          James Connolly fell into a ready made grave.

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          The black flag they hoisted, the cruel deed was over,

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          gone was the man who loved Ireland so well,

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          There was many a sad heart in Dublin that morning,

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          When they murdered James Connolly, the Irish rebel.

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          Gods curse on you England, you cruel hearted monster,

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          Your deeds they would shame, all the devils in Hell,

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          There are no flowers blooming, but the Shamrock is growing,

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          On the grave of James Connolly, the Irish rebel.

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          Many years have gone by, since the Irish rebellion,

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          And the guns of Britannia, they loudly did speak,

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          And the brave IRA, stood shoulder to shoulder

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          And the blood from their bodies, flowed down Sackville street.

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          The four courts of Dublin, they cruelly bombarded,

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          The spirit of freedom they tried hard to quell,

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          But above all the din, came the cry no surrender,

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          Twas the voice of James Connolly, the Irish rebel.