It was on a dreary New Year's Eve as the shade of night fell down,
A lorry load of volunteers approached the border town,
There were men from Dublin and from Cork, Fermanagh and Tyrone,
But their leader was a Limerick man, Seán South of Garryowen.

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

But the sergeant, he spied their daring plan, as he spied them through the door,
The sten guns and all the rifles, a hail of death did pour,
And when that awful night was past two men lay cold as stone,
There was one from county Monaghan and one from Garryowen.

No more will he hear the seagulls cry, or the murmuring Shannon tide,
For he fell beneath a northern sky, brave O'Hanlon by his side,
They gone to join that gallant band of Plunkett, Pearse and Tone,
Another martyr for old Ireland, Seán South of Garryowen.