| In Early hours one Sunday morning
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| High upon the gallows tree
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| Kevin Barry gave his young life
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| For the cause of liberty
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| Just a lad of eighteen summers
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| Yet no one can deny
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| As he walked to death that morning
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| He proudly held his head on high
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| Just before he faced the hangman
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| In his lonely prison cell
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| British soldiers tortured Barry
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| Just because he would not tell
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| The names of all your comrades
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| And other things they wished to know
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| «Turn informer or we’ll kill you»
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| Kevin proudly answered, «no»
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| Calmly standing to attention
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| While he bade his last farewell
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| To his broken hearted mother
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| Whose grief no one can tell
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| For the cause he proudly cherished
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| This sad parting had to be
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| Then to death walked softly smiling
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| That old Ireland might be free
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| Another martyr for old Ireland
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| Another murder for the crown
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| Whose brutal laws may kill the Irish
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| But can’t keep their spirit down
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| Lads like Barry are no cowards
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| From the foe they will not fly
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| Lads like Barry will free Ireland
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| For her sake they’ll live and die |