What did I have, said the fine old woman
What did I have, this proud old woman did say
I had four green fields, each one was a jewel
But strangers came and tried to take them from me
I had fine strong sons, who fought to save my jewels
They fought and they died, and that was my grief said she
Long time ago, said the fine old woman
Long time ago, this proud old woman did say
There was war and death, plundering and pillage
My children starved, by mountain, valley and sea
And their wailing cries, they shook the very heavens
My four green fields ran red with their blood, said she
What have I now, said the fine old woman
What have I now, this proud old woman did say
I have four green fields, one of them's in bondage
In stranger's hands, that tried to take it from me
But my sons had sons, as brave as were their fathers
My fourth green field will bloom once again said she
(Chorus)
Go on home British soldiers go on home
have you got no fuck'in homes of your own
for eight hundred years we've fought you without fear
and we will fight you for eight hundred more.
If you stay British soldiers if you stay
you'll never ever beat the IRA
the fourteen men in Derry are the last that you will bury
so take a tip and leave us while you may.
(Chorus)
No! we're not British we're not Saxon we're not English
we're Irish! and proud we are to be
so fuck your union jack we want our country back
we want to see old Ireland free once more.
(Chorus)
Well we're fighting British soldiers for the cause
we'll never bow to soldiers because
throughout our history we were born to be free
so get out British soldiers leave us be.
(Chorus)
A great crowd had gathered outside Kilmainham
With their heads all uncovered they knelt to the ground
For inside that grim prison lay a brave Irish soldier
His life for his country about to lay down.
He went to his death like a true son of Ireland
The firing party he proudy did face
Then the order rang out: "Present arms, and fire!!"
James Connolly fell into a ready-made grave.
The black flag was hoisted, the cruel deed was over
Gone was the man who loved Ireland so well
There was many a sad heart in Dublin that morning
When they murdered James Connolly, the Irish rebel.
God's curse on you England, you cruel hearted monster
Your deeds they would shame all the devils in Hell
There's no flowers blooming but the shamrock is growing
On the grave of James Connolly, the Irish rebel.
Many years have gone by since the Irish rebellion
When the guns of Britannia they loudly did speak
The bold I.R.A. they stood shoulder to shoulder
and the blood from their bodies flowed down Sackville street.
The four courts of Dublin the English bombarded
the spirit of freedom they tried hard to quell
but above the din rose the cry "No Surrender!!"
'Twas the voice of James Connolly, the Irish Rebel.
When apples still grow in November, when blosoms still bloom on each tree
when leaves are still green in December, its then that our land will be free
I wonder her hills and her valleys and still through my sorrow I see
a land that has never know freedom and only her rivers run free
I'll drink to the death of her manhood, those men who would rather have died
than to life in the cold chains of bondage, to bring back their rights were denied
were are you now when we need you what burns were the flame used to be
are you gone like the snows of last winter and only her rivers run free
How sweet is life but we're crying how mellow the wine but we're dry
how fraquant the rose but its dying how gentle the wind but is sighs
what good is in youth when is ageing what joy is in eyes that can't see
when there's sorrow in sunshine and flowers and still only her rivers run free