From the back streets of the city, out of the darkness came a man,
Dressed in a dark green battle jacket with a carbine in his hand,
He came to organise the people, told them, "do not be afraid,
If working people stick together, we must win," that's what he said.

He wandered though the streets of Belfast, there was a big price on his head,
He organised and he taught the people, never two nights in one place stayed,
Internment came, they did not take him, "go to the South," his good friend said,
"Our days of running they are over, we'll fight at the barricades instead."

Then came the night that I will remember, came the night of the Markets raid,
When two sides of the people's army stood together unafraid,
With a small band of his comrades, a regiment he held at bay,
All night he fought along the rooftops that his men they might get away.

Down by Joy Street he was walking, the Special Branch had laid their plan,
Soldiers shot him down unarmed, God, they feared that brave young man,
They murdered Joe down in the market, the people's friend was lying dead,
We won't forget the words he told us, "Organize!" was what he said.