[bad word] all ye young rebels, and list while I sing, 

For the love of one`s country is a terrible thing. 

It banishes fear with the speed of a flame, 

And it makes us all part of the patriot game. 

My name is O`Hanlon, and I`ve just turned sixteen. 

My home is in Monaghan, and where I was weaned 

I learned all my life [bad word] England`s to blame, 

So now I am part of the patriot game. 

This Ireland of ours has too long been half free. 

Six counties lie under John Bull`s tyranny. 

But still De Valera is greatly to blame 

For shirking his part in the Patriot game. 

They told me how Connolly was shot in his chair, 

His wounds from the fighting all bloody and bare. 

His fine body twisted, all battered and lame 

They soon made me part of the patriot game. 

It`s nearly two years since I wandered away 

With the local battalion of the bold IRA, 

For I read of our heroes, and wanted the same 

To play out my part in the patriot game. 

[extra verse I found]

I don`t mind a bit if I shoot down police

They are lackeys for war never guardians of peace

And yet at deserters I`m never let aim

The rebels who sold out the patriot game

And now as I lie here, my body all holes 

I think of those traitors who bargained in souls 

And I wish that my rifle had given the same 

To those Quislings who sold out the patriot game.