A great crowd had gathered outside of Kilmainham,

With their heads all uncovered,they knelt on the ground.

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

His life for his country about to lay down.


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

The firing party he bravely did face.

Then the order rang out:'Present arms,Fire!'

James Connolly fell into a ready made grave.


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

Gone was the man who loved Ireland so well.

There was many a sad heart in Dublin that morning,

When they murdered James Connolly,the Irish rebel.


Many years have gone by since the Irish rebellion,

When the guns of Brittania they loudly did speak.

And the bold I.R.A they stood shoulder to shoulder,

And the blood from their bodies flowed down Sackville Street.


The Four Courts of Dublin,the English bombarded,

The spirit of freedom,they tried hard to quell,

But above all the din,came the cry:'No surrender!'

'Twas the voice of James Connolly,the Irish rebel.