A great old song, “The Boys of Mullaghbawn” is featured in the Spring 2007 issue of our journal, [Treoir](/music/treoir/ “Treoir Journal”). *The Boys of Mullaghbawn* On a Monday morning early as my wandering steps did take me Down by a farmer’s station of meadow and green lawn, I heard a great lamentation that the wee birds they were making Saying ‘We’ll have no more engagements with the boys of Mullaghbawn.’ Squire Jackson was unequalled for honour and for reason He never turned a traitor nor betrayed the rights of man, But now we are in danger from a vile, deceiving stranger Who has ordered transportation for the boys of Mullaghbawn. For roving and for rambling, for sporting and for gambling, There was none could equal Francheen, young Neil or gallant John But harsh, oppressive landlords, most cruelly they have acted And sent our boys in transport from the hills of Mullaghbawn. As those heroes crossed the ocean I’m told the ship in motion Did start in wild commotion, as if the seas ran dry, The trout and salmon gaping, as the cuckoo left his station Saying ‘Farewell to dear old Erin and the hills of Mullaghbawn’ Now to end my lamentation, we are all in consternation For want of education I now must end my song. Since without justification or due consideration They were sent for transportation from the hills of Mullaghbawn.