Reminds me of this other "Murder the Landlord" ballad:
YE LANDLORDS OF IRELAND
(Source: Irish-American named Wild, late 19th century In Folksongs of Australia Adapted by Charles Ipcar in 1981 Tune: traditional "The Range of the Buffalo")

I went unto America, that sweet land of the free,
But returning in a few short years this news the priest told me,
Me mother'd been evicted and it caused me heart to mourn,
For she had in the poorhouse died in those years while I was gone.

Then a fearful venom seized me and with me right hand raised on high,
I swore by me creator, her landlord he must die;
The night was dark and stormy when I rode to where he dwelled,
The pistol drew, that tyrant slew, and I sent his soul to Hell!

That turned me to a wanderer, that caused me for to roam,
Far from me native Ireland, far from me mother's home;
When that day of judgment comes, when all our race is run,
May God forgive the venom shown by this poor widow's son.

So, ye landlords of Ireland, no matter where ye be,
When you meet your fate as he did then old Ireland will be free;
The American lands are helping, with their eagle's golden wings,
But the harp of dear old Ireland is a mass of broken strings.

Thanks for the above,
Landlady's Daughter, not to be confused with Charley Noble et al