The battle was over on Griffinstown Hill
And a great cry of victory was heard loud and shrill
The soldiers they were routed and the rebels pursued
As far as the green fields and the woods of Kilroe

By a sycamore tree on a pine-covered hill
A young Irish rebel lay bleeding there still
The pale moon it was shining brightly down from the sky
And it cast its pale rays where our young hero did lie

Then slowly he lifted his uncovered head
And to his loyal comrades around him he said:
My life is fast ending, it can't be long more
Until all earthly troubles for me will be o'er

Take this note to my father, who lies sick in his bed
And tell him that the son of his bosom is dead
Tell to Kathleen O'Donovan, my affectionate wife
That I love her in death as I have loved her in life

Tell to Erin my country, that patriotic isle
For her I have lived and for her I now die
I hope we'll have great men for to die for her still
Like the rebel who was shot out in Griffinstown Hill