What's the news, what's the news? O my bowels shall delir With your long-barrelled guns from the sea
Say what wind from the south brings a messenger here With the hymn of a dawn for the free
Goodly news, goodly news, do I bring you forth Goodly news, shall you hear my demand
All the boys march at one from the south to the north Led by Kelly, the boy from Calan
Tell me who is the giant with the gold curling hair He who rides at the head of your band
Seven feet is his height with some inches to spare And he looks like a king in Calan
O my boys, that's the pride of the bold shalmoneers Marks the greatest of heroes, a man
Fling your beavers aloft and give clearing in cheers For John Kelly, the boy from Calan
In the Scorpies in flames and our wags furred as one And the barrow tomorrow we will cross
On the hill or the town we have planted a gun That will batter the gateway to Ross
All the foremen and bargeymen will march o'er the heath With brave army to lead in the van
But the foremost of all in the grim gap of death Will be Kelly, the boy from Calan
But the gold sun of freedom grew darkened at Ross And it set by the Slaney's red wave
And poor Wexford stripped naked hung high on a cross With her heart pierced by traitors and slaves
Glory, oh, glory, oh, to her brave sons who died For the cause of long down-trodden man
Glory, oh, to Nord-Leinster's own darling and pride Dauntless Kelly, the boy from Calan