Ok, let me try that one more time:

Oh, the town, it climbs the mountain and looks out upon the sea
And sleeping time or waking, 'tis there I long to be.
To walk again that kindly street, the place where life began,
And the Boys of Barr na Sráide 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 nor plan
And we Boys of Barr na Sráide a huntin' for the wren.

And when the hills were bleedin' and the rifles were aflame
To the rebel homes of Kerry the Saxon stranger came,
But the men who dared the Auxies and defeated the Black-and-Tan
Were the Boys of Barr na Sráide a huntin' 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,
And the Boys of Barr na Sráide who hunted for the wren.

And now they toil in 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 deeds and praise them while I can
Those Boys of Barr na Sráide 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 Sráide went huntin' for the wren.