| I’m heading for a life in the land of the free
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| Sending every penny home to the family
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| Off to find fortunes that can’t be bought
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| Now Paddy’s struck down from a single shot
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| Paddy’s struck down from a single shot!
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| They lured the men away they promised wealth and riches
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| A thousand miles from home lying steel and digging ditches
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| The work would be a challenge nary a soul could stand the trial
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| These wayfaring boys built the railways toughest mile
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| Fifty-seven men on the hardest mile!
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| Fifty-seven men on the hardest mile
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| Murdered for their troubles, left to die
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| Immigrant sons from Donegal, Tyrone & Derry
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| Their numbers were few but they did the job of many
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| Eight weeks went by and the path was clear
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| Fifty-seven men had all disappeared
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| Not a mention of their name no stone was ever turned
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| It would be so many years before the truth was ever learned
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| Fifty-seven men on the hardest mile
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| Murdered for their troubles, left to die
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| Immigrant sons from Donegal, Tyrone & Derry
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| Their numbers were few but they did the job of many
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| Now ghosts dance a jig on an unmarked grave
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| A slug full of lead was the price they were paid
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| Vigilante justice, prejudice and pride
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| No one in this valley will be seen again alive
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| Fifty-seven men on the hardest mile
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| Murdered for their troubles, left to die
|
| Immigrant sons from Donegal, Tyrone & Derry
|
| Their numbers were few but they did the job of many
|
| Fifty-seven men on the hardest mile
|
| Murdered for their troubles, left to die
|
| Immigrant sons from Donegal, Tyrone & Derry
|
| Their numbers were few but they did the job of many |