Good Friday morning, all in the month of May,
A German ship was signalling, beyond out in the bay,
"We've twenty thousand rifles, all ready for to land",
But no signal answer did come from the lonely Banna Strand.

"No signal answer from the shore," Sir Roger sadly said,
"No comrades here to meet me, alas, they must be dead,
But I must do my duty and at once I mean to land",
So in a small boat pulled ashore on the lonely Banna Strand.

Now the RIC were hunting for Sir Roger high and low,
They found him at McKenna's Fort, said they, "You are our foe",
Said he, "I'm Roger Casement, I've come to my native land,
And I'm going to free my countrymen on the lonely Banna Strand."

They took Sir Roger prisoner and set sail for London town,
And in the Tower they laid him a traitor to the Crown,
Said he, "I am no traitor", but his trial he had to stand,
For shipping German rifles to the lonely Banna Strand.

It was in an English prison cell that they led him to his death,
"I am dying for old Ireland", he said with his last breath,
They buried him in British soil, far, far, from his native land,
And the wild waves told his requiem on the lonely Banna Strand.

They took Sir Roger home again, in the year of '65,
And with his comrades of '16, in peace and tranquil lies,
His last fond wish, it is fulfilled, for to lie in his native land,
And the wild waves roll at peace again on the lonely Banna Strand,
And the wild waves roll at peace again on the lonely Banna Strand.