(Sorry Jim!)
Sorry Steve, can't let that one go.
It seems fairly obvious to me that songs like 'Cromdale (thanks for the correction in detail Allan) were written purely for propaganda purposes, which, to me, makes your 'for profit' theory a nonsense - you don't 'sell' propaganda, you give it away and hope someone takes it. This is why I believe these songs to be a part of history and not a contradiction of it.
This is another song I researched for the same talk I gave.
Jim Carroll

"The song, 'Ballyshannon Lane', purports to be about atrocities said to have been committed by the Government troops at Scullabogue, County Wexford in the July of that year, at the same time as the battle for New Ross. It is a lament for the rebels said to have died at the hands of the Hessians and, somewhat confusedly, "Cromwell's crew"; Cromwell having died some 140 years previously.
The truth of the matter is somewhat different. In fact the atrocities were carried out by the fleeing rebels against mainly Protestant loyalists. The following description of events from Thomas Pakenham's 'The Year of Liberty' is based largely on contemporary documents.

Twenty-five miles away to the west, the beleaguered loyalists of Wexford waited in trepidation for news of the battle. But while all eyes were turned to New Ross, a ghastly scene was being enacted at Scullabogue which was to have a still more indelible mark on Irish history than the battle now raging.
The loyalists imprisoned at Scullabogue had been lodged in an empty house and adjoining barn belonging to a gentleman called Captain King. The barn was a small narrow building of wood and thatch with thick stone walls. Into this had been thrust more than a hundred prisoners - nearly two hundred according to one account - including about twenty women and children. The great majority were, of course, Protestant, though there were some Catholics who had fallen foul of the rebels, some family servants who would not quit their masters, the wife of a militia man, and an old musician whom they accused of playing a loyal tune on his bagpipes. Soon after the first attack on New Ross, a messenger reached Scullabogue with a wild story that the King's soldiers were butchering rebel soldiers; and that orders had now been given to kill loyalist prisoners in retaliation. The rebel captain in charge of the prisoners refused, unless directly ordered by the general. Another order came, to the same effect, and again received the same refusal. Then a third order, supposedly issued by a priest, and the guards could no longer be restrained.
One group hauled out the prisoners from the house. After taking off their coats and uttering a short prayer, they began the work of execution. The prisoners were made to kneel down and were shot four at a time while the next four were being lined up; countrywomen rushed forward regardless of risk to strip the bodies and take their valuables. All told, thirty-five men were shot on the lawn at Scullabogue, each fusillade provoking a cheer from the rebel guards, according to a loyalist who somehow survived.
Meanwhile a second group of rebels were dealing with the families in the barn. Someone had already put a ladder to the walls and set fire to the thatched roof. In their terror of being burnt or suffocated the wretched people inside apparently tried to push open the heavy door at the back. The guards rushed to the door, hacking at their hands and fingers; the door was jammed shut again. By weight of numbers, the prisoners again forced the door open - to be again thrust back by pikes. One two-year-old child actually crept under the door and lay unobserved by the house, till someone spotted the wretched creature and ran it through with his pike.
At last the business was over, the screams faded into silence and the flames died away. In the ruins of the barn they found over a hundred charred bodies, families huddled together and still standing upright for want of space.
For several days, the guards were occupied turning over the bodies to look for coins or other valuables."

It's little wonder that the perpetrators of such an atrocity should want to shift the blame to the other side. This contemporary illustration is a depiction of the scene at Scullabogue by cartoonist George Cruikshank. Usually such illustrations tend to exaggerate the events depicted, though it's fairly clear from the description that there has been little exaggeration here.