On a Monday morning early As my wand'ring steps did lead me, Down by a farmer's station, Of
meadow and green lawn, I heard great lamentation That the wee birds they were makin' Sayin' "We'll have no more
engagements With the boys of Mullaghbawn."
Squire Jackson was un equalled For honour or for reason, He
never turned a traitor Or betrayed the rights of man, But now we are endangered By a vile deceiving stranger Who
has ordered deportation For the Boys of Mullachbawn.
As those heroes crossed the ocean I'm told the ship in
motion Did stand in wild commotion As if the seas ran dry, The trout and salmon gaping As the cuckoo left
her station Sayin', "Farewell to lovely Erin And the hills of Mullaghbawn.
To end my lamentation We are
all in consternation For the want of education I here must end my song; None cares for recreation Since without
consideration We are sent for transportation From the hills of Mullachbawn.