| In nineteen hundred and sixteen,
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| The Forces of the Crown,
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| For to Capture Orange, White and Green,
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| Bombarded Dublin Town,
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| But in twenty one, Britannia’s sons,
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| Began to earn their pay,
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| When the Black and Tans, Like lightning ran
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| From the rifles of the IRA
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| They burned their way through Munster
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| Laid Leinster on the rack,
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| Through Connaught and through Ulster,
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| Marched the men in brown and black,
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| They shot down wives and children,
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| In their own heroic way, when
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| The black and tans, like lightning ran
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| From the rifles of the IRA
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| They hung young Kevin Barry high,
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| A lad of eighteen years,
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| Cork City’s flames lit up in the sky
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| But our brave lads new no fear
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| The Cork brigade with hand-grenades
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| In ambush wait and lay,
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| And the black and tans,
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| Like lightning ran
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| From the Rifles of the I.R.A.
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| The tans were taken out and shot
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| By a brave and valiant few
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| Sean Treacy, Dinny Lacey
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| And Tom Barry’s famous crew
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| We’re not free yet but we won’t forget
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| Until our dying day,
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| When the black and tans,
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| Like lightning ran
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| From the Rifles of the I.R.A.
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| We’re not free yet we won’t forget
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| Until our dying day,
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| When the black and tans,
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| Like lightning ran
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| From the Rifles of the I.R.A. |