FEARGAL O'HANLON

Oh! Hark to the tale of young Feargal O'Hanlon,
Who died in Brookeborough to make Ireland free,
For his heart he had pledged to the cause of his country,
And he took to the hills like a bold rapparee.

And he feared not to walk to the walls of the Barracks,
A volley of death poured from window and door,
Alas for young Feargal, his life's blood for freedom,
On Brookeborough's pavements profusely did pour.

When the smoke and the din of the battle were over,
And Feargal was borne by his comrades away,
He asked them to fly from that place and take cover,
But he died in the hands of the foe on that day.

God strike from your hands, all you hirelings and traitors,
The weapons that murdered our brave volunteer,
God grant to us freedom, the dream of O'Hanlon,
And take from our valleys, all sorrow and fear.

Died 1 January 1957.
"rapparee" = outlaw, rebel.
Tune: "Teddy O'Neill"?
Any amendments or more verses?