A sorrowful tale the truth unto you I’ll relate

Of thirty-six heroes to the world were left to be seen

By a false information were shot on Dunlavin Green

 

Bad luck to you Saunders, for you did their lives betray

You said a parade would be held on that very day

Our drums they did rattle – our fifes they did sweetly play

Surrounded we were and privately marched away

 

Quite easy they led us like prisoners through the town

To be shot on the plain, we first were forced to kneel down

Such grief and such sorrow were never before there seen

When the blood ran in streams down the dykes of Dunlavin Green

 

There is young Matty Farrell who has plenty of cause to complain

Likewise the two Duffys who were also shot down upon the plain

And young Andy Ryan, his mother distracted will run

For the loss of her darling, her only beloved son

 

Bad luck to you, Saunders, may bad luck never you shun!

That the widow’s curse may melt you like the snow in the sun

The cries of the orphans their murmurs you cannot screen

For the murder of their fathers on Dunlavin Green

 

Some of our boys to the hills they are going away

Some of them are shot and some of them going to sea

Mickey Dwyer in the mountains to Saunders he owes a spleen

For loss of his brothers who were shot on Dunlavin Green

 

In the year one thousand seven hundred and ninety eight

A sorrowful tale the truth unto you I’ll relate

Of thirty-six heroes to the world were left to be seen

By a false information were shot on Dunlavin Green