Come all you rebels and list while I sing,
For love of one's land 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 there I was wean,
I was taught 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 a local battalion of the bold IRA,
I read of our heroes and wanted the same,
To play up own part in the patriot game.

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

This island of mine has for long been half free,
Six counties are under John Bull's monarchy,
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 at deserters I'm never let aim,
Those rebels who sold out the patriot game.

And now as I lie with my body of holes,
I think of those traitors who bargained and sold,
I'm sorry my rifle has not done the same,
For the quislings who sold out the patriot game.