For those who are using the mobile version of Odysee, and therefore can't access the pdf, here are the lyrics in plain text: Well I have been a provo for fifteen years or more. Of Armalites and mortar bomb, I thought I knew the score. But now we have a weapon we’ve never used before. The Brits are looking worried and they’re going to worry more! Tiocfaidh ár lá! Sing up the ’RA! Sam missiles in the sky. Well I started out with petrol bombs and throwing bricks and stones. With a hundred more lads like me, I never was alone. But soon I’d learn that bricks and stones wouldn’t drive the Brits away. It wasn’t very long before—Who did I join?—I joined the IRA! Tiocfaidh ár lá! Sing up the ’RA! Sam missiles in the sky. The I– The I– The I-R-A! The I– The I– The I-R-A! Tiocfaidh ár lá! Sing up the ’RA! Sam missiles in the sky. And then there came internment in the year of ’71. The Brits thought we were beaten, but we were on the run. And then early on this morning, they kicked in our back door. For every man they took away—How many did they miss?—they missed a hundred more! Tiocfaidh ár lá! Sing up the ’RA! Sam missiles in the sky. Well I spent eight years in the cages. I had time to think and plan. For though they locked away a boy, I walked out a man. There’s only one thing that I learned while in the cell I lay: The Brits will never leave us—Until when?—until they’re blown away! Tiocfaidh ár lá! Sing up the ’RA! Sam missiles in the sky. The I– The I– The I-R-A! The I– The I– The I-R-A! Tiocfaidh ár lá! Sing up the ’RA! Sam missiles in the sky. And all through the days of hunger strike, I watched my comrades die. But in the streets of Belfast, can hear the women cry. I can’t forget the massacre that Friday at Loughgall. Salute my fallen comrades as I watch the choppers fall. Tiocfaidh ár lá! Sing up the ’RA! Sam missiles in the sky. Tiocfaidh ár lá! Sing up the ’RA! Sam missiles in the sky.

For those who are using the mobile version of Odysee, and therefore can't access the pdf, here are the lyrics in plain text: Well in the merry month of May, Now from me home I started. Left the girls of Tuam, Nearly broken hearted, Saluted father dear, Kissed me darlin mother, Drank a pint of beer, Me grief and tears to smother. Then off to reap the corn, And leave where I was born. Cut a stout black thorn, To banish ghosts and goblins. A brand new pair of brogues, To rattle over the bogs, And fright’n all the dogs, On the rocky road to Dublin. One, two, three, four five, Hunt da hare and turn her down the rocky road, Then all the ways to Dublin. Whack fallal di da. In Mullingar that night, I rested limbs so weary. Started by daylight, Next morning light and airy. Took a drop of the pure, To keep me heart from shinkin’. That’s the Paddy’s cure, Whene’er he’s on for drinkin’. To hear the lassies smile, Laughin’ all the while, At me curious style, T’would set yer heart a bubblin’. He asked me was I hired, and wages I required, Till I was almost tired, Of the rocky road to Dublin. One, two, three, four five, Hunt da hare and turn her down the rocky road, Then all the ways to Dublin. Whack fallal di da. In Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pitty, To be so soon deprived, Of view of that fine city. Then I took a stroll. All among the quality, Bundle it was stolen, In a neat locality. Something crossed me mind, When I looked behind, No bundle could I find, Upon me stick a wobblin’. Inquirin’ after the rogue, Said me Connacht brogue, It wasn’t much in vogue, On the rocky road to Dublin. One, two, three, four five, Hunt da hare and turn her down the rocky road, Then all the ways to Dublin. Whack fallal di da. From there I got away, Me spirits never failing, Landed on the quay, Just as the ship was sailing. Captain at me roared. Said that no room had he, When I jumped aboard. A cabin found for Paddy, Down among the pigs. Did some hearty rigs, And played some hearty jigs, The water ’round me bubblin’. When off Holyhead, I wished meself was dead, Or better far instead, On the rocky road to Dublin. One, two, three, four five, Hunt da hare and turn her down the rocky road, Then all the ways to Dublin. Whack fallal di da. The boys of liver pool, When we safely landed, Called meself the fool, I could no longer stand it. Blood began to boil. Temper I was losin’. Poor old Erin’s Isle, They began abusin’. “Hurrah! Me soul!” says I. Shillelagh I let fly. Galway boys were by, And saw I was a hobblin’, With a loud “Hurray!” They join in the affray. Quickly clear the way, For the rocky road to Dublin. One, two, three, four five, Hunt da hare and turn her down the rocky road, Then all the ways to Dublin. Whack fallal di da.

For those who are using the mobile version of Odysee, and therefore can't access the pdf, here are the lyrics in plain text: Maybe someday I'll go back again to Ireland, If my dear old wife would only pass away. She nearly has my heart broke with her naggin'. She's got a mouth as big as Galway Bay. See her drinkin' sixteen pints of Pabst Blue Ribbon (commercial!), And then she can walk home without a sway. If the sea was beer instead of salty water, She would live and die in Galway Bay. See her drinkin' sixteen pints at Pat Joe Murphy's. The barman says, "I think it's time to go." But she doesn't try to speak to him in Gaelic, In a language that the clergy do not know. On her back she has tattooed a map of Ireland, And when she takes her bath on Saturday, She rubs the sunlight soap around by Claddagh, Just to watch the suds float on by Galway Bay!

For those who are using the mobile version of Odysee, and therefore can't access the pdf, here are the lyrics in plain text: The Tans drove out from Passage for to shoot Mac Curtain down. They thought Sinn Féin was dead and gone in Cork’s old rebel town. But they met a rude awak’nin’ and were seriously delayed, By the fightin’ first battalion of the Third West Cork Brigade! Glory, glory to old Ireland, Glory, glory to old Ireland, Glory, glory to the boys who fought and died, In the fightin’ first battalion of the Third West Cork Brigade. We had no fancy uniforms but plenty of guns to show. We fought them up and down the line wherever they did go. But we fought for our republic, and to hell with every state! “No surrender!” was the war-cry of the Third West Cork Brigade! Glory, glory to old Ireland, Glory, glory to old Ireland, Glory, glory to the boys who fought and died, In the fightin’ first battalion of the Third West Cork Brigade. The Tans drove out from Passage well equipped with British guns. Dey had big ones by da tousands; dey had small ones by da tons. But they met a rude awak’nin’ and were seriously delayed, By the fightin’ first battalion of the Third West Cork Brigade! Glory, glory to old Ireland, Glory, glory to old Ireland, Glory, glory to the boys who fought and died, In the fightin’ first battalion of the Third West Cork Brigade. Erin go Bragh!