The sun had set with it's golden rays,
And the bitter fight was o'er
Our brave boys sleep beneath the clay,
On this earth they are no more,
The moon shone over the battlefield,
Where a dying rebel lay,
His arms were crossed on his body outstretched,
And his life's blood flowed away.

Our comrades in silent ambush laid,
For the evening sky was clear,
Yet not one man was there afraid,
Our brave boys knew no fеar,
Few people in thе city streets,
Had heard of that fierce affray,
Of that valiant youth whose home was set,
In Tipperary far away.

There was none to weep for you Seán, a stóir,
As you lay upon the ground,
Your comrades knew you were one your own,
As you wearily looked around,
"Lift me gently," a whispered,
"No longer on earth must I stay,
Oh, I'll never more roam to my own native home,
Tipperary so far away."

The soldiers of Ireland bore him high,
On their shoulders, with solemnly tread,
And many a heart with a tearful sigh,
Wept over our patriot dead,
In silence they lowered him into the grave,
To await for the reckoning day,
Seán Treacy who died, his home to save,
In Tipperary so far away.