Oh, we're off to Dublin in the green,
in the green.
Our bayonets slithering in the sun.
And the tans they flew like lightning
to the rattle of a Thompson gun.
I am a merry ploughboy,
and I plough the fields all day,
Till something came across my mind
that I should run away.
I've always hated slavery
from the day that I was born,
So I'm off to join the IRA,
and I'm off tomorrow morn.
For we're off to Dublin in the green,
in the green,
Our bay nets littering in the sun,
And the tans they flow like lightning to
The rattle of a Thompson gun.
I leave behind my pick and spade,
And I'll leave behind my plough
And I'll leave behind my old grey mare
For no more I'll need her now
But I'll take my short revolver
And my bandolier also
And with my comrades by my side
We'll face the foreign foe
Oh, we're off to Dublin in the green,
in the green,
Our bay nets flitterin' in the sun,
And the tans they flow like lightning to
The rattle of a Thompson gun.
I leave behind my sweetheart,
The one I do adore,
And I wonder if she'll think of me
When she hears them cannons roar
And when the war is over
And Ireland will be free
I'll take her to the church to wed
And a rebel's wife she'll be
Oh, we're off to Dublin in the green,
in the green
Our bay that's liberal in the sun
And the tans they flew like lightning
to the rattle of a Thompson
gun.
We're glad we could make it too.