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MICHAEL COLLINS (Written by Derek Warfield) Wolfe Tones (Ireland) - 1983 Come listen all me true men to my simple rhyme For it tells of a young man cut off in his prime A soldier and a statesman who laid down the law, and, To die by the roaside in lone Beal na Bla When barely sixteen to England crossed o'er For to work as a boy in a government store But the Volunteers call he could not disobey So he came back to Dublin to join in the fray -Chorus- At Easter nineteen sixteen when Pearse called them out The men from the Dublin battalion roved out And in the post office they nobley did show How a handful of heros could outfight the foe. To Stafford and jails transported they were As prisonners of England they soon made a stir Released before Christmas and home once again He banded old comrades together to train Dail Eireann assembled our rights to proclaim Suppressed by the English you'd think it's a shame How Ireland's best and bravest were harried and torn From the Arms of their loved ones and children new born. For years Mick eluded their soldiers and spies For he was the master of clever disguise With the Custom House blazing she found t'was no use And soon Mother England had asked for a truce Oh when will the young men a sad lesson spurn That brother and brother they never should turn Alas that a split in our ranks 'ere we saw Mick Collins stretched lifeless in lone Beal na Bla Oh long will old Ireland be seeking in vain Ere we find a new leader to match the man slain A true son of Grainne his name long will shine O gallant Mick Collins cut off in his prime.


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