There is a page in history
When the workers first fought back
And the might of exploitation
At last began to crack
In farm and field and factory
In workshop. mine and mill
A flame was lit, a beacon bright
A flame that's burning still

And James Connolly was there
Connolly was there
Bold, brave, undaunted
James Connolly was there

The bosses tried to sweet the lads
Away on Glasgow's Clyde
Until a voice like thunder
Soon stopped them in their stride
In Liverpool, in Belfast
The workers lived in Hell
Until at last they organised
And anyone can tell

William Martin Murphy
And his Dublin millionaires
Tried bribery and corruption,
Hypocracy and fear
To break the Transport Union
The scabs they did enlist
Til all their graft was shattered
By a scarlet iron fist

They say that he was murdered
Shot dying in a chair
But go, march on to freedom
Irish workers, don't despair
In farm and field and factory
In workshop, mine and mill
That flaming light, that beacon bright
The flame is burning still

And James Connolly will be there
Connolly will be there
Bold, brave, undaunted
James Connolly will be there

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