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Come all you young rebels and list' while I sing,
For love of one's country is a terrible thing,
It banishes fear like the speed of a flame,
And it makes you all part of the Patriot's game.
My name is O'Hanlon and I've just gone sixteen.
My house is in Monaghan where I have been reared,
I've been told all my life "Cruel England's to blame."
So now I am part of the Patriot's Game.
It's barely two years since I've wandered away,
With a local Battalion of the Bold I.R.A.
I've read of our heroes, I've wanted the same,
To play up my part in the Patriot Game.
This island of ours has for long been half free,
Six counties are under John Bull's tyranny,
And most of our leaders are greatly to blame,
For shirking their part in the Patriot's Game.
They told me how Connollv was shot in the Chair,
His wounds from the battle, all bloody and bare,
His fine body twisted, all tortured and lame,
They soon made me part of the Patriot's Game.
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And now I am dying, my body all holes,
I think of those traitors who bargained and sold,
I'm sorry my rifle has not done the same,
To the quislings who sold out the Patriot's Game.
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