The Patriot Game --- Dominic Behan
you young [C]reb-[G]els
and [D]list while I [G]sing,
For the love of oneís [Em]country is a [C]terrible [G]thing.
It banishes [Em]fear with the [C]speed of a [G]flame,
And it makes us all [C]part [G]of the [D]patriot [G]game.
and Iíve [D]just gone six-[G]teen,
My home is in [Em]Monahan, [C]where I was [G]weaned.
I learned all my [Em]life cruel [C]Englandís to [G]blame.
So now I am [C]part [G]of the [D]patriot [G]game.
of [C]ours [G]has
too [D]long been half-[G]free.
Six counties lie [Em]under John [C]Bullís tyran-[G]ny.
But still DeVa-[Em]lera is [C]greatly to [G]blame,
For shirking his [C]part in the [D]patriot [G]game.
me how [C]Connol-[G]ly
was [D]shot in a [G]chair,
His wounds from the [Em]battle, all [C]bleeding and [G]bare.
His fine body [Em]twisted, all [C]battered and [G]lame.
They soon made me [C]part [G]of the [D]patriot [G]game.
two [C]years [G]since
I [D]wandered a-[G]way
With the local bat-[Em]talion of the [C]bold IR[G]A.
For I read of our [Em]heroes, and [C]wanted the [G]same.
To play my own [C]part [G]in the [D]patriot [G]game.
as I [C]lie [G]here,
my [D]body all [G]holes,
I think of those [Em]traitors who [C]bargained in [G]souls.
And I wish that my [Em]rifle had [C]given the [G]same
To those Quislings who [C]sold [G]out the [D]patriot [G]game.
Back to songs index