On the Galtymore Mountains, so far, far away
I will tell you a story that happened one day
It's about a young caulin, her age was sixteen
And she carried a banner, white, orange and green.
A bold English bobby by chance passed that way
Saying "Who is the maid with the banner so gay?"
With a laugh and a sneer he got off his machine
Determined to capture the flag of Sinn Fein.
"O give me that banner", the bold bobby cried,
"Give me that banner, and do what is right.
Give me that banner, and do not be mean,
For I must have that emblem, the flag of Sinn Fein."
"I'll not give you that banner", the young maiden cried
"Till your blood and my blood its colours have dyed.
For I have here a rifle and that's nothing mean,
And 'tis proudly I'll die for the flag of Sinn Fein".
The peeler's red face turned white as the snow
He mounted his cycle and started to go,
Saying "What is the use, when a maid of sixteen
Would die for her colours, white, orange and green?"
That very same day in sweet Tipperary town
That gallant young girl from the Galtees come down.
Her poor heart was torn with anguish and pain
For that very same day Mick Keane died for Sinn Fein.
Now you young men and maidens from Erin's green shore
Raise a cheer for the maid from the proud Galtee Mor,
And please keep on fighting the cause of Sinn Fein
Till we make dear old Ireland a Republic again
I will tell you a story that happened one day
It's about a young caulin, her age was sixteen
And she carried a banner, white, orange and green.
A bold English bobby by chance passed that way
Saying "Who is the maid with the banner so gay?"
With a laugh and a sneer he got off his machine
Determined to capture the flag of Sinn Fein.
"O give me that banner", the bold bobby cried,
"Give me that banner, and do what is right.
Give me that banner, and do not be mean,
For I must have that emblem, the flag of Sinn Fein."
"I'll not give you that banner", the young maiden cried
"Till your blood and my blood its colours have dyed.
For I have here a rifle and that's nothing mean,
And 'tis proudly I'll die for the flag of Sinn Fein".
The peeler's red face turned white as the snow
He mounted his cycle and started to go,
Saying "What is the use, when a maid of sixteen
Would die for her colours, white, orange and green?"
That very same day in sweet Tipperary town
That gallant young girl from the Galtees come down.
Her poor heart was torn with anguish and pain
For that very same day Mick Keane died for Sinn Fein.
Now you young men and maidens from Erin's green shore
Raise a cheer for the maid from the proud Galtee Mor,
And please keep on fighting the cause of Sinn Fein
Till we make dear old Ireland a Republic again