My name is Pat O'Donnell, I was born in Donegal,
I am, you know, a deadly foe to traitors one and all,
For the shooting of James Carey I was tried in London town,
And on some fatal scaffold there, my life I must lay down.

I sailed on board the ship Melrose, in August '83,
And Carey, he was on board, but still unknown to me,
When I found out he was Carey, we had angry words and blows,
The traitor tried my life to take on board the ship Melrose.

I took my stand in self-defence, to fight before I would die,
My pocket pistol I drew out, and at Carеy I let fly,
I recalled thе comrades he had betrayed, their families torn apart,
A look of fear flashed o'er his face as my bullet pierced his heart.

They turned me back to London town, without the least delay,
And there, my trial I had to stand, when I landed at Plymouth bay,
That packed jury found me guilty, and the judge to me did cry,
"On the seventeenth of November, Patrick O'Donnell, you must die!"

If I had lived a free man just another year, all traitors and informers,
I would make them shake with fear,
All traitors and informers, it's them, I would hunt down,
They would fly before O'Donnell like the hare before the hound.

Farewell to dear old Donegal, my own dear native land,
Farewell to Magheraroarty and her shimmering silver strands,
Likewise to Meenacladdy, with her woods and valleys green,
For nevermore, round the Gweedore shore, O'Donnell will be seen,
For nevermore, round Gweedore shore, O'Donnell will be seen.