| Come all you young rebels,
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| And list' while I sing.
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| For the love of one’s country is a terrible thing.
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| It banishes fear with the the speed of a flame
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| And it makes us all part of the patriot game.
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| My name is O’Hanlon,
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| And I’m just gone sixteen,
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| My home is in Monohan,
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| Where I was weened,
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| I’ve learned all my life through,
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| When England to blame,
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| And so I’m a part of the patriot game.
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| It’s barely two years since I wondered away,
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| With the local battalion of the bold I-R-A,
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| I’ve read of our heroes and I’ve wanted the same,
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| To play out my part in the patriot game.
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| This Ireland of ours has for long been half free,
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| Six counties are under John Bull’s tyranny,
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| So I gave up my boyhood to drill and to train,
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| To play my own part in the patriot game.
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| And now as I lie here,
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| My body all holes,
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| I think of those treasures,
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| Who bargained and sold,
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| I wish that my rifle had given the same,
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| To those quislings who sold out the patriot game. |