Twas on a dreary New
Year's eve as the shades of night came down,
A lorry load of volunteers
approached a border town,
There were men from Dublin and from
Fermanagh and Tyrone
But the leader was a Limerick man,
Sean South from Garryowen.
And as they moved
along the street up to the barracks door,
the dangers they would meet, the fate that lay in store,
fighting for old Ireland's cause to claim their very OWN,
foremost of that gallant band was South of Garryowen.
But the sergeant
foiled their daring plan,
he spied them
through the door,
Then the sten
guns and the rifles, a hail of death did pour,
And when that
awful night was past, two men lay cold as stone
One was from
near the border town and one from Garryowen.
No more he'll hear the seagulls cry or the murmuring Shannon tide,
For he fell beneath a northern
sky, brave O'Hanlon by his side.
He has gone to join that
gallant band of Plunkett, Pearse and Tone,
Another martyr for old Ireland,
is Sean South from
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