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 36
By a false information they 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.
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 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 are shot and more of them going to sea
Mickey Dwyer in the mountains to Saunders he owes a spleen
For the 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 the snow in noonday sun
The 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 36
By a false information they were shot on Dunlavin Green