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The Boys of Mullachbawn 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. note:In 1787, Squire Jackson, the landlord of an estate which included the parish of Mulluchbawn, died. His successor was less popular. In 1781, several rebels were deported. From The Irish Song Tradition, O'Boyle Collected from Nicholas Hughes, Armagh RG apr97
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!