A great crowd had gathered outside of Kilmainham,
With their heads all uncovered, they knelt on the ground,
For inside that grim prison lay a brave Irish soldier,
His life for his country about to lay down.

He went to his death like a true son of Ireland,
And the old firing party he bravely did face,
Then the order rang out, "Present arms and fire!"
James Connolly fell into a ready made grave.

The black flag they hoisted, the cruel deed was over,
Gone was the man who loved Ireland so well,
There was many a sad heart in Dublin that morning,
When they murdered James Connolly, the Irish rebel.

God's curse on you England, you cruel hearted monster,
Your deeds they would shame all the devils in hell,
There are no flowers blooming but the shamrock is growing,
O'er the grave of James Connolly, the Irish rebel.

Many years have now past since that Easter rebellion,
When the guns of Britannia they loudly did speak,
When the bold IRA stood shoulder to shoulder,
And the blood from their bodies flowed down Sackville Street.

The Four Courts in Dublin the English bombarded,
And the spirit of freedom, they tried hard to quell,
But above all the din came the cry, "No surrender!"
Twas the voice of James Connolly, the Irish rebel.