patriotgame

Come all you young rebels, and list while I sing,
For the love of one’s country is a terrible thing.
It banishes fear with the speed of a flame,
And it makes us all part of the patriot game.

My name is O’Hanlon, and I’m just gone sixteen.
My home is in Monaghan, where I was weaned.
I learned all my life cruel England to blame,
And so I’m a part of the patriot game.

It’s barely two years since I wandered away
With the local battalion of the bold IRA,
I’d read of our heroes, and I wanted the same
To play out my part in the patriot game.

They told me how Connolly was shot in a chair,
His wounds from the battle all bleeding and bare,
His fine body twisted, all battered and lame,
They soon made him part of the patriot game.

I joined a batallion from dear Bally Bay
And gave up my boyhood so happy and gay.
For now as a soldier I’d drill and I’d train
To play my full part in the patriot game.

This island of ours has for long been half free.
Six counties are under John Bull’s tyranny.
So I gave up my Bible, to drill and to train
To play my own part in the patriot game.

This Ireland of mine has for long been half free,
Six counties are under John Bull’s tyranny.
And still De Valera is greatly to blame
For shirking his part in the patriot game.

I don’t mind a bit if I shoot down police,
They’re lackeys for war, never guardians of peace,
But yet as deserters I’m never let aim
Those rebels who sold out the patriot game.

And now as I lie here, my body all holes
I think of those traitors who bargained and sold.
I wish that my rifle had given the same
To those quislings who sold out the patriot game.

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