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(learned from Nick Rhodes at Teton Tea Parties)

(music to go here)

Early on a Sunday morning, high upon a gallows tree,
Kevin Barry gave his young life for the cause of liberty.
Only a lad of eighteen summers, and yet no one could deny
That he went to death that morning nobly with his head held high.
    Shoot me like an Irish soldier, do not hang me like a dog,
    For I fought for Ireland's freedom on that cold September morn;
    All around that little bakery where we fought them hand to hand,
    Shoot me like an Irish soldier, for I fought to free Ireland.

Just before he faced the hangman, in his lonely prison cell,
British soldiers tortured Barry, just because he would not tell
All the names of his companions, other things they wished to know,
Turn informer and we'll free you, proudly Barry answered, No!
    Shoot me like an Irish soldier...

Another martyr for old Ireland, another murder for the crown,
British laws which kill the Irish cannot keep their spirits down,
Lads like Barry are no cowards, from their foes they do not fly,
And their courage always has been Ireland's cause, to live or die.
    Shoot me like an Irish soldier...

(from miriam berg's folksong collection)