March on, lads, she shouted, to glory we’ll steer,
The Fenians are coming, oh dear, oh dear!
Some with big stones and brickbats their pockets did fill,
They thought of the battle of great Bunker’s Hill,
Cut away, fire away, go along Pat,
A soldier fired at a Fenian, and shot a tom cat;
Old Molly Maloney, up her chimney did creep,
Over the hills and the mountains she had a good peep,
While under her window the bagpipes did play,
To cheer Moll with the tune of St. Patrick’s day.