A [G] great crowd had [G7] gathered out[C]side of Kil[G]meinhem,
With their [C] heads un[G]covered they [D] knelt on the [D7] ground.
From [G] inside that grim [G7] prison lay a [C] brave Irish [G] soldier,
His [C] life for his [G] country [D7] about to lay [G] down.
He went to his death like a true son of
The firing party he bravely did face,
Then the order rang out: "Present Arms, Fire!"
James Connolly fell into a ready-made grave.
The black flag they hoisted the cruel deed was over,
Gone was the man who loved
There was many a sad heart in
When they murdered James Connolly, the Irish Rebel!.
God's curse on you,
Your deeds they would shame all the devils in hell.
There are no flowers blooming but the shamrock is growing
On the grave of James Connolly, the Irish Rebel!.
Many years have rolled by since that Irish rebellion,
When the guns of Britannia they loudly did speak.
The bold I.R.A. they stood shoulder to shoulder,
And the blood from their bodies flowed down
The Four Courts of Dublin the English bombarded,
The spirit of Freedom they tried hard to quell.
For above all the din rose the cry 'No Surrender,'
'Twas the voice of James Cannolly, the Irish Rebel.