Could it be this one

Dying Rebel

The night was dark and the fight was over,
The moon shone down O'Connell Street,
I stood alone where brave men perished,
Those men have gone to their God to meet

My only son was shot in Dublin
Fighting for his country bold.
He fought for Ireland and Ireland only
The harp, the shamrock, green, white and gold.

The first I met was a grey-haired father
Searching for his only son
I said "Old Man, there's no use searching
For up to heaven your son has gone"

The old man cried out broken-hearted
Bending o'er I heard him say
I knew my son was too kind-hearted,
I knew my son would never yield

The last I met was a dying rebel
Bending low I heard him say
God bless my home in dear Cork City
God bless the cause for which I die.