Irish Rebel Songs (Lyrics)

[Faísca]

The Broad Black Brimmer

There´s an uniform that´s hanging in what´s known as father´s room
An uniform so simple in his style
It has no braid of gold or silk no hat with feathered plume
Yet the mother has preserved it all the while
One day she made me try it on, a wish of mine for years
"In memory of your father, son" she said
And when I put the Sam Browne on she was smiling with the tears
As she placed the broad black brimmer on my head

It´s just a broad black brimmer with ribbons frayed and torn
By the careless whisk of many a mountain breeze
An old trench coat that´s battle stained and worn
And breeches almost threadbare at the knees
A Sam Brown belt with buckle big and strong
A holster that´s been empty many´s a day
When men claim Ireland´s freedom the one who'll choose to lead them
Will wear the broad black brimmer of the IRA

It was the uniform been worn by me father long ago
When he reached me mothers homestead on the run
It was the uniform me father wore in that little church below
When our Father Mac he blessed the pair as one
And after truce and treaty and the parting of the ways
He wore it when he marched out with the rest
And when they bore his body down that rugged heather braes
They placed the broad black brimmer on his breast

[Milesian]

Loughall Martyrs

I've sung so many songs of fallen heroes
I really thought that I had said it all
But if a song can fill our hearts and raise our spirits
Then I'll sing about our martyrs at Loughgall,
When the Irish nation bowed its head in sorrow
Such sadness as this country's seldom known
For Monaghan has lost a gallant soldier
With seven Volunteers from green Tyrone

Oh England do you really think its over?
'Cause if you do you're going to have to kill us all
For until you take your murderers out of Ireland
We will make them rue the blood spill at Loughgall

It was on a warm and misty Friday evening
The scent of apple blossom filled the air
That village street seemed quiet and deserted
But hidden eyes were watching everywhere,
The digger bomb had only reached its target
The trap was sprung and gunfire filled the air
The SAS did not want any prisoners
"Shoot to kill!" their orders were quite clear

Oh England do you really think its over?
'Cause if you do you're going to have to kill us all
For until you take your murderers out of Ireland
Then we will make them rue the blood spill at Loughgall

They butchered eight young volunteers that evening
They were kicked and punched in case they were not dead
They dragged their bodies up and down that village
And filled their bodies full of British lead
Did you think that it would teach us all a lesson?
As such savagery the whole world was appalled
And don't you know that there's twenty more men waiting
For everyone you butchered at Loughgall

Oh England do you really think its over?
'Cause If you do you're going to have to kill us all
For until you take your murderers out of Ireland
Then we will make them rue the blood spill at Loughgall

Farewell Paddy Kelly and Jim Lynagh
No more you'll lead your fighting unit forth
Side by side with Pádraig McKearney and Tony Gormaley
You died to drive the British from the north
Declan Arthurs and the youthful Seamus Donnelly
On that night you were the youngest of them all
With Gerry O'Callaghan and the gallant Eugene Kelly
Oh your blood still stains the pavements at Loughgall

Oh England do you really think its over?
'Cause if you do you're going to have to kill us all
For until you take your murderers out of Ireland
Then we will make them rue the blood spill at Loughgall

[Milesian]

The Man From the Daily Mail

Now Ireland's a very funny place Sir, it's a strange and troubled land
And the Irish are a very funny race Sir, every girl's in the Cumann na mBan
Every doggie has a tri-coloured ribbon tied firmly to its tail
And it wouldn't be surprising if there'd be another rising
Said the man from the Daily mail

Every bird upon my word is singing treble - I'm a rebel
Every hen it's said is laying hand-grenades over there Sir I declare Sir
And every cock in the farmyard stock crows in triumph for the Gael
And it wouldn't be surprising if there' be another rising
Said the man from the Daily Mail

Well the other day I travelled down to Clare Sir, I spied in an old boreen
A bunch of silly gooses there Sir, dressed in orange white and green
They marched to the German goose step as they whistled Grainne Bhaille
And I'm shaking in me shoes as I'm sending out the news said the man from the Daily Mail

Every bird upon my word is singing treble - I'm a rebel
Every hen it's said is laying hand-grenades over there Sir I declare Sir
And every cock in the farmyard stock crows in triumph for the gale
And it wouldn't be surprising if there' be another rising
Said the man from the Daily Mail

Now the whole place is seething with sedition it's Sinn Fein through and through
All the peelers they are joining local units and the passwords Sinn Fein too
Every doggie wears a tri-coloured ribbon tied firmly to its tail
And it wouldn't be surprising if there'd be another rising
Said the man form the Daily Mail

Every bird upon my word is singing treble - I'm a rebel
Every hen it's said is laying hand-grenades over there Sir I declare Sir
And every cock in the farmyard stock crows in triumph for the gale
And it wouldn't be surprising if there' be another rising
Said the man from the Daily Mail

[Milesian]

The Minstrel Boy

The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him;
His father's sword he hath girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;
"Land of Song!" cried the warrior bard,
Tho' all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"

The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's steel
Could not bring that proud soul under;
The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;
And said "No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and brav'ry!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free
They shall never sound in slavery!"

[Milesian]

Men of the West

Will you honor in song and in story
The names of the patriot men,
Whose valor has covered with glory
Full many a mountain and glen,
Forget not the boys of the heather
Who rallied their bravest and best
When Ireland was broken in Wexford
And looked for revenge to the West.

I give you the gallant old West, boys,
Where rallied our bravest and best
When Ireland lay broken and bleeding;
Hurrah for the men of the West!

The hilltops with glory were glowing
'Twas the eve of a bright harvest day,
When the ship we'd been wearily waiting
Sailed into Killala's broad bay.
And over the hills went the slogan
To awaken in every breast
The fire that has never been quenched, boys,
Among the true hearts of the West.

I give you the gallant old West, boys,
Where rallied our bravest and best
When Ireland lay broken and bleeding;
Hurrah for the men of the West!

Killala was ours at midnight,
And high over Ballina town
Our banners in triumph were waving
Before the next sun had gone down.
We gathered to speed the good work, boys
The true men from near and afar;
And history can tell how we routed
The redcoats through old Castlebar.

I give you the gallant old West, boys,
Where rallied our bravest and best
When Ireland lay broken and bleeding;
Hurrah for the men of the West!

And pledge me the stout sons of France, boys,
Bold Humbert and all his brave men,
Whose tramp, like the trumpet of battle,
Brought hope to the drooping again.
Since Ireland has caught to her bosom
On many a mountain and hill
The gallants who fell, so they're here, boys,
To cheer us to victory still.

I give you the gallant old West, boys,
Where rallied our bravest and best
When Ireland lay broken and bleeding;
Hurrah for the men of the West!

Though all the bright dreamings we cherished
Went down in disaster and woe,
The spirit of old is still with us
That never would bend to the foe.
And Connaught is ready whenever
The loud rolling tuck of the drum
Rings out to awaken the echoes
And tell us the morning has come.

I give you the gallant old West, boys,
Where rallied our bravest and best
When Ireland lay broken and bleeding;
Hurrah for the men of the West!

[Faísca]

The SAM Song

Well I have been a Provo now for fifteen years or more,
With armalites and mortar bombs I thought I knew the score,
But now we have a weapon we've never used before,
The brits are looking worried, and there goin' to worry more.

Tiocfaidh ár lá, sing up the RA!
Ooh ahh up the ra, Ooh ahh up the RA,
SAM missiles, in the sky!

I started out with petrol bombs and throwing bricks and stone,
With a hundred more lads like me, I never was alone,
But soon I learned that bricks and stones wont drive the brits away,
It wasn't very long before (who did I join?) I joined the IRA!

And then there came internment in the year of seventy-one,
The brits thought we were beaten, thought we were on the run,
One early august morning they kicked in my back door,
For every one they took away (how many did they miss?)
They missed a hundred more!

I spent eight years in the cages, I had time to think and plan,
Although they locked away a boy, I walked out a man,
There's only one thing that I learned while in that cell I lay,
The brits will never leave, until they're blown away!

All through the days of hunger strikes I watched my comrades die,
And in the streets of Belfast you can here the women cry,
I cant forget the massacre that Friday at loughall,
I salute my fallen comrades as I watch the choppers fall!

[Milesian]

Men of '98

Who fears to speak of 'Ninety-eight'?
Who blushes at the name?
When cowards mock the patriot's fate
Who hangs his head for shame?
He's all a knave or half a slave
Who slights his country thus,
But a true man, like you, man,
Will fill your glass with us.

We drink the memory of the brave,
The faithful and the few,
Some lie far off beyond the wave,
Some sleep in Ireland too;
All, all are gone, but still lives on
The fame of those who died,
All true men, like you, men,
Remember them with pride.

Some on the shores of distant lands
Their weary hearts have laid,
And by the stranger's heedless hands
Their lonely graves were made;
But though their clay be far away,
Beyond the Atlantic foam,
In true men, like you, men,
Their spirit's still at home.

The dust of some is Irish earth,
Among their own they rest;
And that same land that gave them birth
Has caught them to her breast;
And we will pray that from their clay
Full many a race may start
Of true men, like you, men,
To play as brave a part.

They rose in dark and evil days
To free their native land
And kindled then a living blaze
That nothing shall withstand;
Alas, that might should conquer right,
They fell and passed away
But true men, like you, men,
Are plenty here today.

Then here's their memory, let it be
To us a guiding light
To cheer our fight for liberty
And teach us to unite!
Though good and ill be Ireland's still,
Though sad as their your fate,
Yet true men, be you, men,
Like those of 'Ninety-eight.

[Milesian]

My Little Armalite

And it's down in the Bogside, that's where I long to be,
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,
A comrade on me left and another on me right
And a clip of ammunition for my little Armalite.

I was stopped by a soldier, said he, You are a swine,
He beat me with his baton and he kicked me in the groin,
I bowed and I scraped, sure me manners were polite
But all the time I'm thinking of me little Armalite.

And it's down in Crossmaglen, sure that's where I long to be,
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,
A comrade on me left and another on me right
And a clip of ammunition for my little Armalite

Sure a brave RUC man came up into our street
Six hundred British soldiers were gathered round his feet
Come out, ye cowardly Fenians, said he, come out and fight.
But he cried, I'm only joking, when he heard the Armalite.

Sure it's down in Kilwilkie, that's where I long to be,
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,
A comrade on me left and another on me right
And a clip of ammunition for my little Armalite.

Sure, the army came to visit me, 'twas in the early hours,
With Saladins and Saracens and Ferret armoured cars
They thought they had me cornered, but I gave them all a fright
With the armour piercing bullets of my little Armalite.

And it's down in the Falls Road, that's where I long to be,
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,
A comrade on me left and another on me right
And a clip of ammunition for my little Armalite.

When Tuzo came to Belfast, he said, The battle's won,
Said General Ford, We're winning sir, we have them on the run.
But corporals and privates on patrol at night,
Said, Send for reinforcements, it's the bloody Armalite.

And it's up in Ballymurphy, that's where I long to be,
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,
A comrade on me left and another on me right
And a clip of ammunition for my little Armalite.

[Faísca]

Roll of Honour

Read the roll of honour for Ireland's bravest men
we must be united in memory of the ten,
England you're a monster don’t think that you have won
we will never be defeated while Ireland has such sons,

In those weary H Block cages ten brave young Irishmen lay
hungering for justice while their young lives ebbed away,
for their rights as Irish soldiers and to free they’re native land
they stood beside their leader the gallant Bobby Sands,
Now they mourn Hughes in Bellaghy,
Ray McCreesh in Armagh's hills
In those narrow streets of Derry they miss O'Hara still,
They so proudly gave their young lives to break Britannia's hold
Their names will be remembered as history unfolds,

Through the war torn streets of Ulster
the black flags did proudly wave
To salute ten Irish martyrs the bravest of the brave,
Joe McDonnell, Martin Hurson, Kevin Lynch, Kieran Doherty
They gave their lives for freedom with Thomas McElwee
Michael Devine from Derry you were the last to die,
With your nine brave companions with the martyred dead you lie,
Your souls cry out remember, our deaths are not in vain
Fight on and make our homeland a nation once again.

[Milesian]

H-Block Song

I am a proud young Irishman.
In Ulster's hills my life began;
A happy boy through green fields ran;
I kept God's and man's laws.
But when my age was barely ten
My country's wrongs were told again.
By tens of thousands marching men
And my heart stirred to the cause.

So I'll wear no convict's uniform
Nor meekly serve my time
That Britain might brand lreland's fight
Eight hundred years of crime.

I learned of centuries of strife,
Of cruel laws, injustice rife;
I saw now in my own young life
The fruits of foreign sway:
Protestors threatened, tortured, maimed,
Divisions nurtured, passions flamed,
Outrage provoked, right's cause defamed;
This is the conqueror's way.

So I'll wear no convict's uniform
Nor meekly serve my time
That Britain might brand lreland's fight
Eight hundred years of crime.


Descended from proud Connacht clan,
Concannon served cruel Britain's plan;
Man' s inhumanity to man
Had spawned a trusty slave.
No strangers are these bolts and locks,
No new design these dark H-Blocks,
Black Cromwell lives while Mason stalks;
The bully taunts the brave.

So I'll wear no convict's uniform
Nor meekly serve my time
That Britain might brand lreland's fight
Eight hundred years of crime.


Does Britain need a thousand years
Of protest, riot, death and tears,
Or will this past decade of fears
Of eighty decades spell
An end to Ireland's agony,
New hope for human dignity;
And will the last obscenity
Be this grim H-Block cell?

So I'll wear no convict's uniform
Nor meekly serve my time
That Britain might brand lreland's fight
Eight hundred years of crime.

[Faísca]

Tiocfaidh ár lá

Tiocfaidh ár lá, our day will come
Our glorious day, for Erin`s fighting sons
The day will come, we will be free
Tiocfaidh ár lá, the dawn of liberty.

It's been a long 800 years
Of British scorn and Irish tears
And only freedom will suffice
We've made too long a sacrifice

And those who hold the power today
A full account you'll have to pay
To those held down by unjust laws
Because they love our freedom's cause

And those who make the prisons hell
Who hold the keys and lock the cells
Your time will come, it's long due
We'll have our chance to turn the screw

Slán go fóill
Tiocfaidh ár lá

[Milesian]

The Legion of the Reaguard

Up the Republic, they raise their battle cry,
Pearse and McDermott will pray for you on high,
Eager and ready, for love of you they die
Proud march the soldiers of the Rearguard.

Legion of the Rearguard, answering Ireland's call,
Hark their martial tramp is heard from Cork to Donegal,
Wolfe Love and Emmett guide you, though your task be hard,
De Valera leads you, soldiers of the Legion of the Rearguard.

Glorious the morning, through flame and shot and shell,
Now rally Ireland, your sons who love you well
Pledged, they'll defend you, through death or prison cell
Wait for the soldiers of the Rearguard.

Crimson the roadside, the prison wall, the cave,
Proof of their valour, go sleep in peace ye brave,
Comrade tread lightly, you're near a hero's grave,
Proud die the soldiers of the Rearguard.

[Milesian]

A Nation Once Again

When boyhood's fire was in my blood
I read of ancient freemen,
For Greece and Rome who bravely stood,
Three hundred men and three men;
And then I prayed I yet might see
Our fetters rent in twain,
And Ireland, long a province, be.
A Nation once again!

A Nation once again,
A Nation once again,
And lreland, long a province, be
A Nation once again!

And from that time, through wildest woe,
That hope has shone a far light,
Nor could love's brightest summer glow
Outshine that solemn starlight;
It seemed to watch above my head
In forum, field and fane,
Its angel voice sang round my bed,
A Nation once again!

It whisper'd too, that freedom's ark
And service high and holy,
Would be profaned by feelings dark
And passions vain or lowly;
For, Freedom comes from God's right hand,
And needs a Godly train;
And righteous men must make our land
A Nation once again!

So, as I grew from boy to man,
I bent me to that bidding
My spirit of each selfish plan
And cruel passion ridding;
For, thus I hoped some day to aid,
Oh, can such hope be vain?
When my dear country shall be made
A Nation once again!