| In Dublin City in 1914 the boss was rich and the poor were slaves
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| The women working and the children hungry then on came Larkin like a mighty wave
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| The workers cringed when the boss man thundered seventy hours was their weekly
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| chore
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| They asked for little and less was granted lest getting little they’d asked for
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| more
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| Then came Larkin in 1914 a mighty man with a mighty tongue
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| The voice of labour the voice of justice and he was gifted, he was young
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| God sent Larkin in 1914 a labor man with a union tongue
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| He raised the workers and gave them courage he was their hero and a workers son
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| It was in August the boss man told us no union man for them could work
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| We stood by Larkin and told the boss man we’d fight or die but we’d never shirk
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| Eight months we fought eight months we starved we stood by Larkin through thick
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| and thin
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| But foodless homes and the crying children, they broke our hearts and we could
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| not win
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| When Larkin left us we seemed defeated the night was black for the working man
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| But on came Connolly came with new hope and counsel his motto was we’ll rise
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| again
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| In 1916 in Dublin City the English army burnt our town
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| They shelled the buildings and shot our leaders the harp was buried beneath the
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| crown
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| They shot McDermott and Pearse and Plunkett they shot McDonagh Ceannt and
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| Clarke the brave
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| From bleak Kilmanham they took their bodies to Arbour hill to a quicklime grave
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| Last of all of the seven leaders they shot down James Connolly
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| The voice of labour the voice of justice gave his life that we might be free |