There's a sacred spot in Dublin,
A place called Arbour Hill,
Where sleeps our noble martyrs,
But their message rings out still.

To you their message is calling,
As it did that Easter day,
When they flew the flag of freedom,
And proclaimed the IRA.

They marched the men in Dublin,
And for Ireland struck a blow,
They cherished it and raised the flag,
Over Dublin's GPO.

Traitors tried to sell the cause,
And traitors they may be,
For Pearse had only one in mind,
Old Ireland's liberty.

They followed Tone and Emmet,
And faced a martyrs grave,
We again must take their message,
If our nation we must save.

Six counties still subjected,
And are held by Britain still,
So wake up and show devotion,
To the men of Arbour Hill.