A great crowd had gathered outside of Kilmainham
Their heads all uncovered they knelt to the ground
For inside that grim prison lay a brave Irish soldier
His life for his country about to lay down

He went to his death like a true son of Ireland
The firing party he bravely did face
Then the order rang out: “Present arms and fire”
James Connolly fell into a ready-made grave

The black flag was hoisted, the cruel deed was over
Gone was the man who loved Ireland so well
There was many a sad heart in Dublin that morning
When they murdered James Connolly, the Irish rebel

God’s curse on you England, you cruel-hearted monster
Your deed they would shame all the devils in hell
There are no flowers blooming, the shamrock is growing
On the grave of James Connoily, the Irish rebel

Many years have gone by since the Irish Rebellion
When the guns of Britannia they loudly did speak
And the bold l.R.A. they stood shoulder to shoulder
As the blood from their bodies flowed down Sackville Street

The Four Courts at Dublin, the English bombarded
The spirit of freedom they tried hard to quell
But above all the din rose the cry “No Surrender”
‘Twas the voice of James Connolly, the Irish rebel

Laoch Uasal Na nGael

Unique Word Count: 123

Amuigh i gCill Maighneann 
’Sea chruinnigh na sluaite, 
Is d’fhan ar a nglúine 
Ceann-nochta, ag guí;
Mar laistigh den phríosún
Go misniúil ’s go cróga 
Ag feitheamh le hanbhás 
Bhí Éireannach groí.

Do ghluais sé chun báis
Go fearúil ’s go dána,
’S ar dhream dúr a scaoilte 
Do thug aghaidh go tréan; 
Le focal ón gcaptaen
An feallbheart bhí déanta – 
An Conghaileach calma 
Thit marbh, mo léan!

Ar chuaille in airde
Bhí dubh-bhratach na marbh, 
Tírghráthóir na hÉireann 
D'fhág slán leis an saol.
Ba mhór é an léan
I mBlá’ Cliath ar maidin 
Nuair a maraíodh Séamas, 
Laoch uasal na nGael.

Ceithre chúirt Átha Cliath 
Scrios na Sasanaigh rompu; 
Sprid uasal na saoirse
Do chuir siad i mbaol;
Ach os cionn fuaim an ghleo 
Cluineadh gáir ard, 'Ní ghéillfead!' 
B'shin an freagra ó Shéamas, 
Laoch uasal na nGael.

Mo mhallachtsa ortsa, 
A Shasana ghránna,
Le danarthacht diabhlaí 
Chuir Gaela faoi scaoll. 
Níl fás ar aon bhláth –
Tá an tseamróg go gleoite 
Ar uaigh chaol Shéamais, 
Laoch uasal na nGael.

-Diarmaid Ó Tuama a d’aistrigh