Come all ye young rebels, and list while I sing
For the love of one's country is a terrible thing
It banishes fear with the speed of a flame
And it makes us all part of the patriot game

My name is O'Hanlon, and I've just turned sixteen
My home is in Monaghan, where I was weaned
I learned all my life cruel England to blame
So now I am part of the patriot game

This Ireland of ours has too long been half free;
Six counties lie under John Bull's tyranny
But still De Valera is greatly to blame
For shirking his part in the Patriot game

They told me how Connolly was shot in his chair
His wounds from the fighting all bloody and bare

His fine body twisted, all battered and lame
They soon made me part of the patriot game

It's nearly two years since I wandered away
With the local battalion of the bold IRA
I've read of our heroes, and I wanted the same
To play out my part in the patriot game
(extra verse I found)
I don't mind a bit if I shoot down police
They are lackeys for war never guardians of peace
And yet at deserters I'm never let aim
The rebels who sold out the patriot game

And now as I lie (or: die) here, my body all holes (or: holed)
I think of those traitors who bargained in souls
And I wish that my (air) rifle had given the same
To those Quislings who sold out the patriot game