As I was walking through Dublin city
On a pleasant morning in the month of May
Near Stephan’s Green, there I met a young man
With tear-dimmed eyes who to me did say
This morning early, ere birds were singing
Or Mass bells ringing with vibrant tone
To his great promise , the Lord took from us
Our peerless champion from sweet Stradone.

There’s a banshee caoining by Breffnis waters
Beyond Lough Sheelin in the morning wind
By lake and river the rushes quiver
In silent sorrow for one young and kind
The dawn was glowing, but our teams were flowing
As we watched him going where God calls his own
And twas so we parted, I’m broken hearted
For our peerless champion from sweet Stradone

Oh never more will I treat the green sward
Of broad Croke Park but I’ll see him still
His brilliant fielding, his manly bearing
And red head flaring in the battle’s thrill.
New stars may rise in the years before us
But in our eyes none will him dethrone
The boy from Breffni, the pride of Belfield
God rest you P.J. in far Stradone.