Well my name is Mick Ryan, I'm lyin still 
In a lonely spot near where I was killed 
By a red man defending his native land 
In the place that they call Little Big Horn 

And I swear I did not see the irony 
When I rode with the Seventh Cavalry 
I thought that we fought for the land of the free 
When we rode from Fort Lincoln that morning 

And the band they played the Garryowen 
Brass was shining, flags a flowin 
I swear if I had only known 
I'd have wished that I'd died back at Vicksburg 

For my brother and me, we had barely escaped 
From the hell that was Ireland in forty eight 
Two angry young lads who had learned how to hate 
But we loved the idea of Amerikay 

And we cursed our cousins who fought and bled 
In their bloody coats of bloody red 
The sun never sets on the bloody dead 
Of those who have chosen an empire 

But we'd find a better life somehow 
In the land where no man has to bow 
It seemed right then and it seems right now 
That Paddy he died for the union 

Ah, but Michael he somehow got turned around 
He had stolen the dream that he thought he'd found 
Now I never will see that holy ground 
For I turned into something I hated 

And I'm haunted by the Garryowen 
Drums a beating, bugles blowin' 
I swear if I had only known 
I'd lie with my brother in Vicksburg 

And the band they played that Garryowen 
Brass was shin, flags a flowin' 
I swear if I had only known, I'd lie with 
my brother at Vicksburg