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Shall My Soul Pass Through Old Ireland


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In a dreary Brixton prison
Where an Irish rebel lay
By his side a priest was kneeling
'Ere his soul should pass away
Then he faintly murmered "Father"
As he clasped him by the hand
"Tell me this before I die
Shall my soul pass through Ireland?

Shall my soul pass through old Ireland
Pass through Cork City grand
Shall I see the old cathedral
Where St. Patrick took his stand
Shall I see that little chapel
Where I pledged my heart and hand
Then Father tell me truly
Shall my soul pass through Ireland?

'Twas for loving dear old Ireland
In this prison cell I lie
'Twas for loving dear old Ireland
In this foreign land I'll die
Will you meet my little daughter
Will you make her understand
Then Father tell me truly
Shall my soul pass through Ireland?"

With his heart pure as a lily
And his body sanctified
In that dreary British prison
That brave Irish rebel died
Prayed the priest that wish be granted
As in blessing raised his hand
"Father grant this brave man's prayer
May his soul pass through Ireland"