In the county Donegal, where the grass was green and tall,
Around the sun kissed beaches of Leiter,
With the village of Dungloe and the isle of Arranmore,
Sure, for beauty, there's no land could be richer.

It was there when I was young, I first heard the verses sung,
Of the fight against foreign imposition,
Of the glory and the pain, of the youths who died in vain,
To save Ireland dear from partition.

I've learnt of battles fiercе, of Connolly and Pearse,
And the many, many morе who were taken,
And I knew within my heart, I would surely play my part,
Ere the cause for which they died be forsaken.

With my father I did go, to the hills above Dungloe,
Where I joined a provincial division,
But my father sorely paid, taken in a border raid,
And shot down near Omagh for sedition.

Ah, but all has not been lost, for Pearse's rebel gold,
Will soon march in the true Irish manner,
Oh, for freedom is the call, till we rally one and all,
United beneath a single banner.

Oh, for freedom is the call, till we rally one and all,
United beneath a single banner.