Twas early, early all in the spring,
The small birds whistled and did sweetly sing,
Changing their notes from tree to tree,
And the song they sang was 'Old Ireland Free'.

Twas early, early on Tuesday night,
The Yeoman Cavalry gave me a fright,
To my misfortune and sad downfall,
I was taken prisoner by Lord Cornwall.

I bear no hate against living things,
But I love my country above the King,
I alone am left of my native race,
I will go to Wexford and take their place.

When I was marching o'er Wexford Hill,
Oh, who could blame me for to cry my fill?
I looked behind and I looked before,
But my gentle mother I could see no more.

When I was mounted on the gallows high,
My aged father, he was standing by,
My aged father did me deny,
And the name he gave me was the Croppy Boy.

Twas in old Ireland, this young man died,
And in old Ireland his body lies,
All you good people who do pass by,
Pray the Lord have mercy on the Croppy Boy.