| On a Monday morning early, as my wand’ring steps did take me
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| Down by a farmer’s station is meadows and green lawn
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| I heard great lamentation the wee birds they were making
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| Sayin' «We'll have no more engagements with the boys of Mullaghbawn»
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| I beg your pardon ladies, I’ll ask you this one favour
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| I hope it is no treason, on you I now must call
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| I’m condoling late and early, my heart is nigh for breaking
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| All for a noble lady that lives near Mullaghbawn
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| Squire Jackson he’s unequaled in honour or in favour
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| He never turned a traitor or betrayed the rights of man
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| But now we are endangered by a vile deceiving stranger
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| Who has ordered transportation for the boys of Mullaghbawn
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| With those heroes on the ocean, I’m told the ship in motion
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| Stood up in wild commotion as if the seas ran dry
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| The trout and salmon gaping as the cuckoo left her station
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| Saying «farewell to Erin and the hills of Mullaghbawn»
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| To end this lamentation, we are all in consternation
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| None wants for recreation until the day do dawn
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| For without hesitation, we are charged with combination
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| And sent for transportation from the hills of Mullaghbawn |