Come all ye rebels, come 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 makes us all part of the patriot game.

My name is O'Hanlon, I've just turn sixteen,
My home is in Monaghan, that's where I was weaned,
And I learned all my lifetime, cruel England's to blame,
So now I'm a part of the patriot game.

This island of ours has too long been half free,
Six counties lie under John Bull's tyranny,
But still de Valera is greatly to blame,
For shirking his part in the patriot game.

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

It's nearly two years since I wandered away,
With a local battalion of the bold IRA,
For I read of our heroes, I wanted the same,
To play out my part in the patriot game.

I don't mind a bit if I shoot down police,
They're lackeys of war, never guardians of peace,
And yet at deserters I'll never let aim,
To the rebels who sold out our patriot game.

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