My Old Fenian Gun

A powerful traditional Irish rebel ballad telling the story of a Fenian rifle passed from father to son, through rebellion, prison, and sacrifice for Ireland’s freedom.

My Old Fenian Gun Lyrics

hung above the kitchen fire, its barrel long and brown.
And one day with a boy’s desire, I climbed and took it down.
My father’s eyes with anger flashed, he cried, ‘What have you done?
I wish you left it where it was, that’s my old FEE-nee-an gun.’
[verse 2]
Curiosity awakened me, I looked it o’er and o’er.
I placed it on my shoulder and I marched across the floor.
My father’s anger softened then, he shared my boyish fun.
‘Ah, well,’ he said ‘’tis in your breed to hold that FEE-nee-an gun.’
[verse 3]
I was down there in Kilmallock, ‘twas the hottest fight of all.
And you see I burned my arm, there’s the mark still of the ball.
I hope the boys that’s going now will keep the ground that’s won,
And not disgrace the cause in which we held the FEE-nee-an gun.’
[verse 4]
‘I remember sixty-seven well,’ he said, ‘when lads like me,
We said we’d strike another blow to set old Ireland free.
How foolish were our boyish hopes I was months upon the run,
But it did good work for Ireland then, did that old FEE-nee-an gun.’
[verse 5]
I placed it o’er the fire once more, I heard my father sigh.
I knew his thoughts was turning back on days now long gone by.
And then I solemnly declared I’ll be my father’s son,
And if ever Ireland wants my aid I’ll hold a FEE-nee-an gun.
[verse 6]
That’s years ago, I’ve grown to man and weathered many a gale.
The last long year was spent inside a gloomy English jail.
I’ve done my part, I’ll do it still, until the fight is won.
And when Ireland’s free, we’ll bless the man who held the FEE-nee-an gun.