There is a page in history when the workers first fought back
When 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, that flame, it's burning still
Connolly was there
Connolly was there
Great, brave, undaunted, oh, James Connolly was there
The bosses tried to sweat the lads, away young Glasgow's clyde
Until a voice like thunder soon stopped them in their stride
In Liverpool and Belfast the workers lived in hell
Until at last they organised and any man can tell
Connolly was there
Connolly was there
Great, brave, undaunted, oh, James Connolly was there
William Martin Murphy and his Dublin milllionaires
Tried bribery and corruption, hypocrisy and prayers
To break the transport union, the scabs they did enlist
But all their graft was shattered by a scarlet iron fist
Connolly was there
Connolly was there
Great, brave, undaunted, oh, James Connolly was there
They say that he was murdered, shot dying the chair
But go march on to freedom, Irish workers don't despair
In farm and field and factory, in workshop, mine and mill
That beacon bright, that flaming light, that light that's burning still
Connolly will be there
Connolly will be there
Great, brave, undaunted, oh, James Connolly will be there
