Dunlavin Green-Dolores Keane

In the year of one thousand seven hundred and ninety-eight A sorrowful tale, the truth unto you I'll relate Thirty-six heroes to the world they 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 same 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 the 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 shot down upon the plain Young Andy Ryan, his mother distracted will run For the loss of her darling, her only beloved son Some of our boys to the hills, they are going away Some of them shot and more of them going to sea Michael Dwyer in the mountains to Saunders, he owes a spleen For loss of his brothers who were shot on Dunlavin Green Bad luck to you, Saunders, bad luck may you never shun May the widow's curse melt you like snow in the noonday sun Cries of the orphans, their murmurs you cannot screen For the loss of their fathers who were shot on Dunlavin Green In the year of one thousand seven hundred and ninety-eight A sorrowful tale, the truth unto you I'll relate Thirty-six heroes to the world they were left to be seen By a false information were shot on Dunlavin Green