In Bodenstown churchyard there lies a green grave
And wildly around it the winter winds rave
Small shelter is weaned from the cruel walls there
When the storm clouds blow down on the plains of Kildare.

Once I stood on that sod that lies over Wolfe Tone
And I thought how he perished in prison alone
His friends unavenged and his country unfreed
Oh pity, I thought, Is the patriot's need.

I was awakened from my dreaming by voices and tread
Of a band who came in to the home of the dead
There were students and peasants, the wise and the brave
And an old man who knew him from cradle to grave.

This old man who saw I was weeping there said
We've come for to weep where young Wolfe Tone lies laid
We're going to build him a monument, too
A small one yet simple for the patriot true.

My heart overflowed and I clasped his old hand
And I blessed him and blessed everyone in the band
"Sweet sweet 'tis to find that such things can remain
To a man that's been long been vanquished and slain."

In Bodenstown churchyard there lies a green grave
And wildly around it let the winter winds rave
Far better it suits him the wind and the gloom
Until Ireland a nation might build him a tomb.