Through Belfast's lonely graveyard, I strayed one autumn night,
Around a grave a crowd I saw in the evening's fading light,
And from the men and women folk who knelt around that mound,
Came the Paters and the Aves, in a soft tone Gaelic sound.

Within this grave a young man speaks, died two of Ireland's sons,
Who gave their lives in freedom's cause and faced tyrants guns,
On Cavan's Mountain, Lappinduff, fought one with bravery
Until the English soldiers killed, brave Sean McCartney

In Mountjoy jail the other one, on Mary's festive morn,
The bright red cloak of martyrdom for Ireland did adorn,
And as the church bells chimed their peal to Mary Immaculate,
A Free State firing party sent, Joe McKelvey through death's gate.

And farther there across the path, lies one who knew not can't,
A soldier who in Ireland's cause, his life he gladly spent,
Through battle fire and prison cell and comrades treachery,
Brave Paddy Nash withstood it all until death claimed victory.

And all around are monuments that bear a martyr's name,
True patriots who had served and died to kindle freedom's flame,
Ned Trodden, Gaynor and O'Carroll with McAstocker brave,
Remember them, they died for us and found a martyr's grave.

And oh, my friend, look further there, a grave just freshly made,
A boy we all loved in our hearts, there in that grave is laid,
When just a boy of sixteen years, a felon's cap he wore,
God rest you, Frankie Doherty, Ireland's cross you proudly bore.

The ceremony's over, the crowd has gone, and I'm left alone,
With thoughts that take my memory back to McCracken and Wolfe Tone,
And in every generation still they come, that noble band,
To sacrifice their brave lives in the cause of Ireland.