One bright Easter Sunday, her noontime had past,
Up the Kashmir Road in the town of Belfast,
Six young Irish rebels set out to proclaim,
That the spirits of freedom still burns like a flame.

A gun battle followed and a constable died,
The young men were captured in prisoner and tried,
They faced their accusers with heads proudly high,
For the killing of one man, the six were to die.

When the world cried in protest, a plan was conceived,
The leader must die but the rest were reprieved,
For the crowd sought revenge and the news became known,
Tom Williams must walk to the scaffold alone.

Tom Williams, the leader, just barely nineteen,
A martyr for Ireland, white, orange and green,
When the men who condemned him are banished and gone,
The name of Tom Williams will ever live on.

My name is Tom Williams, from Clonard I hail,
And tomorrow they hang me in Crumlin Road Gaol,
Though my life may be ended tomorrow at dawn,
The cause that I died for forever lives on.

So remember Tom Williams, remember with pride,
And cherish the cause he fought and for died,
Let freedom for Ireland be ever your goal,
And remember Tom Williams and pray for his soul,
And remember Tom Williams and pray for his soul.