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For What Died the Sons of Róisín, was it fame
For What Died the Sons of Róisín, was it fame
For what flowed Irelands
blood in rivers,
That began when Brian chased the Dane,
And did not cease nor has not ceased,
With the brave sons
of ´16,
For what died the sons of Róisín, was it fame
For What Died the Sons of Róisín, was it greed
For What Died the Sons of Róisín, was it greed
Was it greed that
drove Wolfe Tone to a paupers death in a cell of cold wet stone?
Will German, French or Dutch inscribe the epitaph of
Emmet?
When we have sold enough of Ireland to be but strangers in it.
For What Died the Sons of Róisín, was it greed
To whom do we owe our allegiance today
To whom do we owe our allegiance today
To those brave men who fought and
died that Róisín live again with pride?
Her sons at home to work and sing,
Her youth to dance and make her valleys
ring,
Or the faceless men who for Mark and Dollar,
Betray her to the highest bidder,
To whom do we owe our allegiance
today
For what suffer our patriots today
For what suffer our patriots today
They have a language problem, so they say,
How to write "No Trespass" must grieve their heart full sore,
We got rid of one strange language now we are faced
with many, many more,
For what suffer our patriots today
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