Come listen, all me true men
To my simple rhyme for it tells of a
Young man put off in his prime
A soldier and a statesman who
Layed down the law
And to die by the roadside
In lone Béal na Bláth
When barely sixteen, to England crossed o'er
For to work as a boy in a government store
But the volunteers' call he
Could not disobey
So he came back to Dublin to join in the fray
At Easter 1916 when Pearse called them out
The men from the Dublin battalion rode out
And in the Post Office they nobly did show
How a handful of heroes
Could outfight the foe
To Stafford and gaols transported they were
As prisoners of England they soon made a stir
Released before Christmas and home once again
Rebranded old comrades together to train
Dáíl Éireann assembled our rights to proclaim
Suppressed by the English
You'd think it a shame
Oh, Ireland's best and bravest
Were harried and torn
From the arms of their loved
Ones and children newborn
At Easter 1916 when Pearse called them out
The men from the Dublin battalion rode out
And in the Post Office they nobly did show
How a handful of heroes
Could outfight the foe
For years
Mick eluded their soldiers and spies
For he was the master of clever disguise
With the Custom House blazing
She found 'twas no use
And soon Mother England had asked for a truce
Oh, when will the young men
A sad lesson spurn
That brother on brother they
Never should turn
Alas, that a split in our ranks here we saw
Mick Collins stretched lifeless in
Lone Béal na Bláth
At Easter 1916 when Pearse called them out
The men from the Dublin battalion rode out
And in the Post Office they nobly did show
How a handful of heroes
Could outfight the foe
Oh, long will old Ireland be seeking in vain
Ere we find our new leader
To match the man slain
A true son of Gráinne
His name long will shine
Oh, gallant Mike Collins
Cut off in his prime
At Easter 1916 when Pearse called them out
The men from the Dublin battalion rode out
And in the Post Office they nobly did show
How a handful of heroes
Could outfight the foe
Wolfe Tones - Michael Collins (1983 version) Lyrics
Wolfe Tones - Michael Collins (1983 version) Lyrics
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Come listen, all me true men
To my simple rhyme for it tells of a
Young man put off in his prime
A soldier and a statesman who
Layed down the law
And to die by the roadside
In lone Béal na Bláth
When barely sixteen, to England crossed o'er
For to work as a boy in a government store
But the volunteers' call he
Could not disobey
So he came back to Dublin to join in the fray
At Easter 1916 when Pearse called them out
The men from the Dublin battalion rode out
And in the Post Office they nobly did show
How a handful of heroes
Could outfight the foe
To Stafford and gaols transported they were
As prisoners of England they soon made a stir
Released before Christmas and home once again
Rebranded old comrades together to train
Dáíl Éireann assembled our rights to proclaim
Suppressed by the English
You'd think it a shame
Oh, Ireland's best and bravest
Were harried and torn
From the arms of their loved
Ones and children newborn
At Easter 1916 when Pearse called them out
The men from the Dublin battalion rode out
And in the Post Office they nobly did show
How a handful of heroes
Could outfight the foe
For years
Mick eluded their soldiers and spies
For he was the master of clever disguise
With the Custom House blazing
She found 'twas no use
And soon Mother England had asked for a truce
Oh, when will the young men
A sad lesson spurn
That brother on brother they
Never should turn
Alas, that a split in our ranks here we saw
Mick Collins stretched lifeless in
Lone Béal na Bláth
At Easter 1916 when Pearse called them out
The men from the Dublin battalion rode out
And in the Post Office they nobly did show
How a handful of heroes
Could outfight the foe
Oh, long will old Ireland be seeking in vain
Ere we find our new leader
To match the man slain
A true son of Gráinne
His name long will shine
Oh, gallant Mike Collins
Cut off in his prime
At Easter 1916 when Pearse called them out
The men from the Dublin battalion rode out
And in the Post Office they nobly did show
How a handful of heroes
Could outfight the foe
To my simple rhyme for it tells of a
Young man put off in his prime
A soldier and a statesman who
Layed down the law
And to die by the roadside
In lone Béal na Bláth
When barely sixteen, to England crossed o'er
For to work as a boy in a government store
But the volunteers' call he
Could not disobey
So he came back to Dublin to join in the fray
At Easter 1916 when Pearse called them out
The men from the Dublin battalion rode out
And in the Post Office they nobly did show
How a handful of heroes
Could outfight the foe
To Stafford and gaols transported they were
As prisoners of England they soon made a stir
Released before Christmas and home once again
Rebranded old comrades together to train
Dáíl Éireann assembled our rights to proclaim
Suppressed by the English
You'd think it a shame
Oh, Ireland's best and bravest
Were harried and torn
From the arms of their loved
Ones and children newborn
At Easter 1916 when Pearse called them out
The men from the Dublin battalion rode out
And in the Post Office they nobly did show
How a handful of heroes
Could outfight the foe
For years
Mick eluded their soldiers and spies
For he was the master of clever disguise
With the Custom House blazing
She found 'twas no use
And soon Mother England had asked for a truce
Oh, when will the young men
A sad lesson spurn
That brother on brother they
Never should turn
Alas, that a split in our ranks here we saw
Mick Collins stretched lifeless in
Lone Béal na Bláth
At Easter 1916 when Pearse called them out
The men from the Dublin battalion rode out
And in the Post Office they nobly did show
How a handful of heroes
Could outfight the foe
Oh, long will old Ireland be seeking in vain
Ere we find our new leader
To match the man slain
A true son of Gráinne
His name long will shine
Oh, gallant Mike Collins
Cut off in his prime
At Easter 1916 when Pearse called them out
The men from the Dublin battalion rode out
And in the Post Office they nobly did show
How a handful of heroes
Could outfight the foe
Writer: Jonathan Owen, Peter Hobbs
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management