Michael Collins

Come listen all me true men to my simple rhyme

For it tells of a young man cut off in his prime

A soldier and a statesman who laid down the law, and

To die by the roadside in lone Beal na Blath

When barely sixteen to England crossed o'er

For to work as a boy in a government store

But the Volunteers call he could not disobey

So he came back to Dublin to join in the fray

Chorus:

At Easter nineteen sixteen when Pearse called them out

The men from the Dublin battalion roved out

And in the post office they nobley did show

How a handful of heros could outfight the foe

To Stafford and jails transported they were

As prisoners of England they soon made a stir

Released before Christmas and home once again

He banded old comrades together to train

Dáil Éireann assembled, our rights to proclaim

Suppressed by the English you'd think it's a shame

How Ireland's best and bravest were harried and torn

From the arms of their loved ones and children newborn

For years Mick eluded their soldiers and spies

For he was the master of clever disguise

With the Custom House blazing she found t'was no use

And soon Mother England had asked for a truce

Oh when will the young men a sad lesson spurn

That brother and brother they never should turn

Alas that a split in our ranks 'ere we saw

Mick Collins stretched lifeless in lone Beal na Blath

Oh long will old Ireland be seeking in vain

Ere we find a new leader to match the man slain

A true son of Grainne his name long will shine

O gallant Mick Collins cut off in his prime