[D]Twas the eve of St.Patrick, at the[A] dawn of the[D] day,
The hills of Tirconnell, lay slumbering and[A] gray.
[D]first light of morning illumined the [A]sky,
As four [D]Irish soldiers were [G]lead forth to[D] die.
were Enright, O'Donnell and Dawly by name,
From the counties of Cork and from Kerry they came.
While the gallant Stan
Larkin from the banks of the Roe
Completes the four martyrs shot dead at Drumbo.
These four Irish soldiers were dragged from their cell,
For months they had suffered the torments of hell.
they asked from their merciless foe,
And no mercy was shown by the thugs at Drumbo.
Three left their homesteads in Kerry's green vale,
And one came from Derry to fight for the Gael
But instead of
true friends they met traitor and foe
And uncoffined were laid in the woods of Drumbo.
The church bells rang
out in the cool morning air,
To summon the faithful to penance and prayer.
When a shot from the wild wood brought terror
'Twas the death knell of Dawly, shot dead at Drumbo.
Let Tireconnel ne'er boast of her honour and fame,
All the waters of Finn could not wash out the stain.
Foyle and the Swilly continue to flow,
The stain will remain on the woods of Drumbo.