Oh, the town, it up climbs the mountain and looks upon the sea,
That sleeping time or waking time it's there I'd love to be,
To walk again those kindly streets, the place my life began,
With the boys of Barr Na Sráide, who hunted for the wren.

Oh, with cudgels stout we roamed about to hunt for the gay dreólin,
We searched for birds in every furze from Leitir to Dooneen,
We sang for joy beneath the sky, life held no threat or plan,
And the boys of Barr Na Sráide, went hunted for the wren.

Oh, and when the hills were bleeding, the rifles were aflame,
To the rebel homes of Kerry, the Saxon stranger came,
But the men who dared the Auxies defeat the Black and Tans,
Who were boys of Barr Na Sráide, who hunted for the wren.

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

And here's a health to them tonight wherever they may be,
By the banks of Carham river or the slope of Bean a' Tí
John Daly and Batt Andy and the Sheehans, Con and Dan,
Were the Boys of Barr Na Sráide, who hunted for the wren.

Oh, and when my wheel of life runs out and peace comes over me,
Just lay me down in that old town between the hills and sea,
I'll take my rest in those green fields, the place my life began,
With those boys of Barr Na Sráide, who hunted for the wren.
Those boys of Barr Na Sráide, who hunted for the wren.