| lyric | 1. In Dublin City in nineteen thirteen,
the boss was rich und he employ’d the slave,
The women work’d and the children starved,
Till larkin came like a mighty wave.
The workers cring’d when the boss man thundered,
And seventy hours was his weekly chore,
He asked for little and less was granted,
Lest getting little he might ask for more.
2. Then on came Larkin in nineteen thirteen,
A mighty man witha mighty tongue,
The voice of labour, the voice of justice,
And he was gifted and he was young.
God sent us Larkin in nineteen thirteen,
A labouring man with a Union tongue,
He raised the worker and gave him courage,
He was the hero, the worker's son.
3. It was in August the boss man told us,
That no Union man then for him could work,
We stood by Larkin and told the boss man,
We'd fight or die but we would not shirk.
Eight months we fought and eight months we starved,
We stood by Larkin through thick and thin,
But foodless homes and the crying of children,
They broke our hearts and we could not win.
4. Then Larkin left us, We seemed defeated,
The night was dark for the working man,
But on came Connolly with new hope and counsel,
His motto was that 'we'd rise again‘,
In nineteen sixteen in Dublin City,
The English soldiers they burned our town,
They shelled the buildings and shot our leaders,
The harp was buried beneath the crown.
5. They shot McDermott and Pearse and Plunkett,
They shot McDonagh and Clarke the brave,
From bleak Kilrnainham they took their bodies,
To Arbour Hill to a quicklime grave.
But IaSt of all of the seven leaders,
I'll sing the praise of James Connolly,
The voice of labour, the voice of justice,
Who gave his life that men might be free. |