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It was on a dreary new year's eve as the shades of night came down, 
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A lorry load of volunteers approched the border town, 
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There was men from Dublin and from Cork,Fermanagh and Tyrone, 
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And their leader was a Limerick man Sean South from Garryowen 

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And as they moved along the streets up to the barrack door, 
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They scorned the danger they might face,the fate that lay in store, 
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They were fighting for old Ireland,to claim their very own, 
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And the foremost of that gallant band was South from Garryowen. 

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But the sergent foiled their daring plan,he spied them through the door, 
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Then the Sten guns and the rifles a hail of death did pour, 
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And when that auful night was past,two men lay as cold as stone, 
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There was one from near the border,and one from Garryowen. 

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No more he'll hear the seagull cry o're the murmuring Shannon tide, 
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For he fell beneath a Northern sky,brave Hanlon by his side, 
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They have gone to join that gallant band of Plunkett Pearse and Tone, 
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A martyr for old Ireland,Sean South from Garryowen