A great crowd had gathered Outside of Kilmainhaim,
With their heads uncovered
they knelt on the ground,
For inside that grim prison lay a brave Irish Soldier,
His life for his Country about to
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 a man who loved Ireland so well,
There was many a sad heart in Dublin that morning,
they murdered James Connolly, the Irish Rebel.
God's curse on you England, you cruel-hearted monster
they would shame all the devils in Hell
There are no flowers blooming but the shamrock is growing
On the grave of James
Connolly, the Irish Rebel.
Many years have rolled by since that Irish rebellion,
When the guns of Britannia they
loudly did speak.
The bold IRA they stood shoulder to shoulder
And the blood from their bodies flowed down Sackville
The Four Courts of Dublin the English bombarded,
The spirit of freedom they tried hard to quell,
above all the din rose the cry "No Surrender",
'Twas the voice of James Connolly, the Irish Rebel.