Oh the town it climbs the mountain and looks out upon the sea
At sleeping time or waking, 'tis there I long to be
To walk again that kindly street that place where life began
And the boys of Barr na Sraide went hunting for the wren
With cudgels stout we roamed about to hunt the dreólín
We searched for birds in every furze from Litir to Dooneen
We sang for joy beneath the sky, life held no print or plan
And we, boys of Barr na Sraide, went hunting for the wren
And when the hills were bleeding and the rifles were aflame
To the rebel homes of Kerry the Saxon stranger came
But the men who dared the Auxies and who beat the Black-and-Tan
Were the boys of Barr na Sraide who hunted for the wren
And here's a toast to them tonight the lads who laughed with me
By the groves of Carham River or the slopes of Bean 'a Tí
John Daly and Batt Andy and the Sheehans, Conn and Dan
Were the boys of Barr na Sraide who hunted for the wren
And now they toil on foreign soil where they have gone their way
Deep in the heart of London town or over in Broadway
And I am left to sing their deed and praise them while I can
Those boys of Barr na Sraide who hunted for the wren
And when the wheel of life runs down and peace comes over me
Oh lay me down in that old town between the hills and sea
I'll take my sleep in those green fields the place my life began
Where the boys of Barr na Sraide went hunting for the wren