Rain on Kilmainham – A Ballad for the Fallen of 1916 | Irish rebel Song | Traditional Irish Music

0:00 Intro 0:12 Verse 1 0:54 Chorus 1:36 Verse 2 2:36 Chorus 2:56 Verse 3 3:36 Outro Rain on Kilmainham – A Ballad for the Fallen of 1916 | Irish Rebel Song | Traditional Irish Music This original Irish ballad honours the men who faced the firing squad in Kilmainham Gaol following the 1916 Rising. Tells the true story of Patrick Pearse, James Connolly, and other leaders shot by firing squad. Historical Irish rebel song with accurate detail for listeners of Irish history, rebel ballads, and folk music. “They aimed to end a nation's claim, But crowned it bright in Ireland’s name.” Whether you're a singer, student, or son of Ireland — this is for you. Don't for get to hit that Subscribe button.... #RainOnKilmainham #1916Rising #IrishBallad #Pearse #Connolly #irishrebelsongs #traditionalmusic #KilmainhamGaol #IrishHistory #OriginalSong #IrishFolkMusic #EasterRising #IrishRebellion #TradBallad #PoetryOfIreland #MartyrsOf1916 #RebelSong #RepublicOfIreland #IrelandRemembers #FolkSong #BalladsOfIreland #jamesconnolly Follow & Support Just Irish Music: 🎥 YouTube:    / @justirishmusic   🎶 TikTok:   / justirishmusic   🎵 Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/user/3143x74... 🐦 X/Twitter: https://x.com/JustIrishMusic 📸 Instagram:   / justirishmusic   📘 Facebook:   / justirishmusic   Verse 1 The yard lay still in morning rain, Where freedom paid its price in pain No crowds to cheer, no bands to play, Just dawn and death, were steps away. Verse 2 (chorus) Each name was called in morning grey, Pearse stood tall, with words to say. Connolly bound, yet would not yield, His stretcher faced the soldiers’ steel. Verse 3 The walls were thick, but truth still climbed, They could not cage the rebel mind. They aimed to end a nation's claim, But crowned it bright in Ireland’s name. Chorus Each name was called in morning grey, Pearse stood tall, with words to say. Connolly bound, yet would not yield, His stretcher faced the soldiers’ steel. Verse 4 The sentry flinched, his stance went stiff, The priest read slow from sacred scripts No traitor’s shame, no bandit’s sneer They faced the guns without one fear. Chorus Each name was called in morning grey, Pearse stood tall, with words to say. Connolly bound, yet would not yield, His stretcher faced the soldiers’ steel. Verse 5 Their mothers wept behind closed doors, The children whispered rebel lore. From prison yard to market stall, Their dying breath became our call. Verse 6 Now rain still taps on rusted gates, Like mourners come a century late. Their ghosts don’t cry - they simply wait, For us to rise, or share their fate.