The town, it climbs the mountain and looks down to the sea,
And waking time or sleeping tis there I long to be,
To walk again the kindly street, where I grew from boy to man,
With the boys of Barr Na Sráide, who hunted for the wren.

With cudgels stout we roamed about to hunt the grey dreólin,
We searched for birds neath every furze from Leitir to Dooneen,
We jumped for joy beneath the sky, life held no threat or plan,
And the boys from Barr Na Sráide, we hunted for the wren.

And when the hills were bleeding, when rifles were aflame,
To the rebel homes of Kerry, the Saxon stranger came,
But the boys who dared and the Auxies flared and we fought the Black and Tan,
Were once boys from Barr Na Sráide, who hunted for the wren.

But now they toil on foreign soil where they have gone their way,
Deep in the heart of London Town, a rover on Broadway,
And I am left to sing their deeds and praises while I can,
All the boys from Barr Na Sráide, who hunted for the wren.

And when my wheel of life runs out and death comes over me,
Just lay me down in that old town between the hills and sea,
I'll take my piece mongst those green fields where I grew from boy to man,
With the boys from Barr Na Sráide, who hunted for the wren.