| In nineteen hundred and sixteen | 
| The forces of the crown | 
| For to take Orange, White, and Green | 
| Bombarded Dublin Town | 
| But in '21, Britannia’s sons | 
| Were forced earn their pay, when | 
| The black and tans, like lightening ran | 
| From the Rifles of the IRA! | 
| They burned their way through Munster | 
| Then laid Leinster on the rack | 
| Through Connacht, and through Ulster | 
| Marched the men in brown and black | 
| They shot down wives and children | 
| In their own heroic way, but | 
| The black and tans, like lightening ran | 
| From the Rifles of the IRA! | 
| They hanged young Kevin Barry high | 
| Just a lad of eighteen years | 
| Cork City’s flames lit up in the sky | 
| But our brave lads new no fear | 
| The Cork brigade with hand-grenades | 
| In ambush wait and lay, and | 
| The black and tans, like lightening ran | 
| From the Rifles of the IRA! | 
| The tans were got, taken out and shot | 
| By a brave and valiant few | 
| Sean Treacy, Dinny Lacey | 
| And Tom Barry’s gallant crew | 
| Though we’re not free yet | 
| We won’t forget | 
| Until our dying day, how | 
| The black and tans, like lightening ran | 
| From the Rifles of the IRA! |