Dunlavian 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