By Patrick Tunney
I am here in the camp like a felon in dungeons of sorrow and woe,
Some say it is for rebellion against a most treacherous foe.
I once as a rebel was hiding on the hillsides of Mayo so fair,
But faith I am now law abiding in a little wee hut in Kildare.
Some says it is for flag-waving I’m held with an iron claw,
And some says it is for behaving contravensive to order and law.
But Hamer says ‘tis to advise me that I was doing wrongs everywhere,
So he thought that he might civilise me in a little wee hut in Kildare.
The measures applied are most drastic well rendered with cold Saxon steel,
You would want a conscience elastic for the force of the iron heel.
Barbed wire says revile MacReady will keep all those evil shinners there,
So the bayonets were all at the ready ‘round my little wee hut in Kildare
The gloom of the camp was appalling when the shades of the evening will fall,
If any man fails at roll calling, there’s plenty of trouble for all.
I see as my lines I am scrolling, Tommy Atkins parading the square,
All night to and fro, he’s patrolling ‘round my little wee hut in Kildare.