THE DYING REBEL

The [G] night was dark, and the [Am] fight was [G] over,

The moon shone [Em] down O'[D]Connell [G] Street,

I [C] stood [G] alone, where [Am] brave men [G] perished

Those men have [D] gone, their [C] God to [G] meet.

[chorus]

My only son was shot in Dublin,

Fighting for his country bold,

He fought for Ireland, and Ireland only,

The Harp and Shamrock, Green, White and Gold.

The first I met was a grey-haired father

Searching for his only son,

I said "Old man, there's no use searching

For up to heaven, your son has gone".

The old man cried out broken hearted

Bending o'er I heard him say:

"I knew my son was too kind hearted,

I knew my son would never yield".

The next I met was a weeping mother

Kneeling o`er her young son sighing,

Her face was wet with a broken heart,

"God rest his soul I pray to thee"

The last I met was a dying rebel,

Bending low I heard him say:

"God bless my home in dear Cork City,

God bless the cause for which I die."