| Come all you young rebels, 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 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, I’ve just turned sixteen
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| My home is in Monaghan, where I was weaned
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| I learned all my life injustice to blame
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| And so I’m part of the patriot game
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| It’s barely two years since I wandered away
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| With the local battalion of the old IRA
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| They told me of heroes, I wanted the same
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| To play a great part in the patriot game
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| Where is the young man, this Earth ever taught
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| Whose life is less sacred then all the old fraught
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| Whose boy who’s less lucky, whose visionless fate
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| Than the old men who paid for the patriot game
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| And now as I’m dying, my body all holes
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| I think of the old men who bargained and sold
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| I’m sorry my rifle has not done the same
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| To those rebels who sold out the patriot game |