It was on a dreary New Year's Eve as the shades of night came down,
A lorry load of volunteers approached the border town,
There were men from Dublin and from Cork, Fermanagh and Tyrone, (You're on your own!)
But the leader was a Limerick man, Seán South from Garryowen.

And as they moved along the streets up to the barrack door,
They scorned the danger they would meet and their fate that lay in store,
They were fighting for old Ireland just to claim for their very own,
And the foremost of that gallant band was South from Garryowen.

But the sergeant he spoiled their daring plan, he spied them through the door,
But the sten guns and the rifles too and a hail of death did roar,
And when that awful night was o'er, two men lay as cold as stone,
There was one from County Monaghan and one from Garryowen.

No more he will hear the seagull's cry, o'er the murmuring Shannon tide,
For he fell beneath a northern sky, brave O'Hanlon was by his side,
They have gone to join that gallant band of Plunkett, Pearse and Tone, (Wolfe Tones!)
Another martyr for old Ireland Seán South from Garryowen,
Another martyr for old Ireland Seán South from Garryowen.