Many years have gone by since the Irish rebellion,
When the guns of Britannia so loudly did speak,
And the bold IRA they stood shoulder to shoulder,
As the blood from their bodies flowed down Sackville Street.

A large crowd had gathered outside of Kilmainham,
With their heads all uncovered, they knelt all around,
For inside that grim prison lay a true Irish soldier,
His life for his country about to lay down.

And he went to his death like a true son of Ireland,
The firing party he bravely did face,
And then the order it rang out, "Present arms and fire!"
James Connolly fell into a ready made grave.

And the black flag it was hoisted, the cruel deed was over,
And gone was the man who loved Ireland so well,
There was manys a sad heart in Dublin that morning,
As they murdered James Connolly, the Irish rebel.

The Four Courts of Dublin the English bombarded,
Our spirit of freedom, they tried hard to quell,
But above all the din came the cry, "No surrender!"
Was the voice of James Connolly, the Irish rebel.

God's curse on you England, you cruel hearted murderers,
Your deeds they would shame all the devils in hell,
There are no flowers blooming but the shamrock still growing,
On the grave of James Connolly, the Irish rebel,
On the grave of James Connolly, the Irish rebel.