SPOKEN: Many songs are sung and written about Emmett, Pearse and Tone,
But no one knows the son of Ireland who loved to chew a bone,
A patriot so fearless who fought doggedly for his nation,
Not a Catholic or a Protestant, but a bloody great Alsatian.

SUNG: Way back in 1921 when the troubles were really bad,
The black and tans were searching houses, driving people mad.
Irish men and women lent a hand to help the cause.
Here's the story of a hero who lent a pair of paws.

And this was Fido ate a hand grenade for me,
When the tans came round to search the house at tea,
I said, "Fido, take this. Eat."
He thought it was a tin of meat.
It was the hand grenade that Fido hid for me.

The black and tans they searched the house, but not a thing was found.
They checked for guns and bullets, but they never checked the hound.
They mocked and scorned and jeered us, but their laughter ended soon,
When Fido just exploded and went phlllllt around the room.

And it was Fido hid the hand grenade for me,
Just as the tans came to search the house at tea.
Well, the tan said, "Excuse me, mate.
Was it something your dog ate?"
It was the hand grenade that Fido hid for me.

The tans ran out in terror. Fido saved us one and all,
So we looked at him as he lay there on the ceiling, the floors and the walls,
Another martyr for old Ireland, by Britannia cruelly slain.
Some day up there I hope he'll be an Alsatian once again,
An Alsatian once again, an Alsatian once again.
I hope this old dog will be an Alsatian once again.

Written by Dermot Morgan.

HTML line breaks and punctuation added. --JoeClone, 22-Jul-02.