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