In a bar room near the border,
Down a staircase dark and dim,
Gathered
soldiers from the front line,
There to rest and settle in,
They had travelled over the mountains
Through the mashes,
in the mud,
Weak and weary of their battles,
Stretching days without their grub.
Men of gallant defiance bearing
Witness
to their dead,
Men of vengeful resistence
Wearing rifles full of lead,
How to use them no man questioned,
For
their tally was unique,
But amongst them an informer,
Slipped unnoticed to the street.
To the barracks full of
soldiers,
Fast he ran without delay,
Where he told them of his comrades,
They were helpless now to slay,
Thirty
pieces was his making
As that Judas broke his oath,
And what happened shortly after
That etched a mark upon his soul.
Now
the Brits they stalked our hideout,
All of fifteen hundred guns,
On a hillside way above them
Lay a squad of Irelandīs
sons,
Have no mercy was the order
As we slaughtered Satanīs men,
And we chased the few remaining
To the bottom
of the glen.
Now Gilmour was drinking,
Having laughs with all the girls,
He was promising them jewellery,
As
grand as all the earls,
Lying drunk along the table,
They stole the silver from his coat,
Knowing Gilmour sold his
comrades,
They upped a knife and slit his throat.
Men of gallant defiance bearing
Witness to their dead,
Men
of vengeful resistence
Wearing rifles full of lead,
How to use them no man questioned,
For their tally was unique,
And
that night a dead informer,
Slipped unnoticed to the street.
