The Ballad of James Larkin

In Dublin City in 1913

The boss was rich and the poor were slaves

The women working and the children hungry

Then on came Larkin like a mighty wave

The workmen cringed when the boss man thundered

Seventy hours was his weekly chore

He asked for little and less was granted

Lest getting little he'd ask for more

But on came Larkin in 1913

A mighty man with a mighty tongue

The voice of labour the voice of justice

And he was gifted and he was young

God sent Larkin in 1913

A labor man with a union tongue

He raised the worker and gave him courage

He was their hero, the workers son

In the month of August the boss man told us

No union man for him could work

We stood by Larkin and told the boss man

We'd fight or die but we would not shirk

Eight months we fought and eight months we starved

We stood by Larkin through thick and thin

But foodless homes and the crying children,

They broke our hearts and we could not win

Then Larkin left us we seemed defeated

The night was black for the working man

But on came Connolly with new hope and counsel

His motto was that we'd rise again

In 1916 in Dublin City

The English soldiers, they burnt our town

They shelled the buildings and shot our leaders

The harp was buried beneath the crown

They shot McDermott and Pearse and Plunkett

They shot McDonagh and Clarke the brave

From bleak Kilmanham they took their bodies

To Arbour Hill to a quicklime grave

But Last of all of the seven leaders

I'll sing the praise of James Connolly

The voice of labour the voice of justice

Who gave his life that men might be free