1. |
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On the first day of March in the year of ninety-three
The first recreation was in this country
The King’s County gentlemen o’er hills, dales and rocks
They rode so joyfully in search of a fox
Tally-ho, hark away, tally-ho hark away
Tally-ho, hark away me boys away, hark away
When Reynard was started he faced Tullamore
And Arklow and Wicklow along the sea shore
We kept his brush in view every yard of the way
And it’s straight he made his course for the street of Rosstrade
For Reynard, sly Reynard lay hid there that night
And we swore we would watch him until the daylight
Next morning early morning, the hills did resound
With the sweet smell of horses and the sweet cry of hounds
When Reynard was started he faced to the hollow
Where none but the footmen and hounds they could follow
The gentlemen cried “Watch him, watch him, what will he do?
If the rocks do not stop him he will cross Killaloe”
When Reynard was captured his wishes to fulfill
He sent for pen and paper and ink to write his will
And what he made mention of, we found it no thank
For he gave us all a cheque on the National Bank.
“Oh to you, Mr Casey, I leave my whole estate
And to you, Mr Johnson, my money and my plate
I give to you, Sir Monaghan, my whips, spurs and cap
For you jumped ore hedge and ditches and ne’er looked for a gap.”
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2. |
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I’m poor girl born near Dublin City
All alone and lonely O
The Landlord on us showed no pity
Born to be a Curragh Wren
My Parents died likewise my brother
All alone and lonely O
At 14 years I became a mother
Born to be a Curragh Wren
Death or workhouse lay before me
All alone and lonely oh
To the road i took my baby and me
Born to be a Curragh Wren
For miles we trekked through driving weather
All alone and lonely oh
And on the Kildare plains we found shelter
Born to be a Curragh Wren
Chorus
Banished out to hollowed quarters
God’s men scorned us from their Alters
Who will love the sons and daughters
born onto this Curragh Wren
With bare hands worn to blood and bone
All alone and lonely oh
Among the furze we made our home
Born to be a Curragh Wren
Like dogs we crouched in damp and squalor
All alone and lonely Oh
Crawling out when the soldiers hollered
Born to be a Curragh Wren
At night they’d come to hunt for blood
All alone and lonely oh
They stripped and beat us in the mud
Born to be a Curragh Wren
All ye who judge us from your soft beds
All alone and lonely oh
Hang in shame your righteous heads
Born to be a Curragh Wrens
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3. |
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What will you have you for dinner now
My young darling boy?
What will you have you for dinner
My comfort and my joy?
I had bread, beef and cold poison
Mother, will you dress my bed soon?
I have a pain in my heart and I long to lie down
What will you leave your father
My young darling boy?
What will you leave your father
My comfort and my joy?
I’ll leave him the coach and four horses
Mother, will you dress my bed soon?
For I have a pain in my heart and I long to lie down
What will you leave your mother
My young darling boy?
What will you leave your mother
My comfort and my joy?
I’ll leave her the keys to my treasure
Mother, will you dress my bed soon?
For I have a pain in my heart and I long to lie down
What will you leave your children
My own Darlin boy
What will you leave your children
My comfort and my joy
I’ll let them follow their mother
Will you dress my bed soon?
For I have a pain in my heart and I long to lie down
What will you leave your sweetheart
My young darling boy?
What will you leave your sweetheart
My comfort and my joy?
The long rope for to hang her
Mother, will you dress my bed soon?
For I have a pain in my heart and I long to lie down
Where will you be buried now
My own young darling boy?
Where will you be buried
My comfort and my joy?
I’ll be buried in Kilkenny, where I’ll take a long sleep
With a stone to my head and a scraith to my feet
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4. |
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The Girl I left behind me
Come all you handsome comely maids that lives near Carlow dwelling
Beware of young men’s flattering tongues with love to you they’re telling
Beware of the kindest words they say be wise and never mind them
For if they were to be talking till they die they’d still leave you behind them.
In Carlow town I was brought up all free from debt or dangers
When Colonel Reilly listed me to join the Wicklow Rangers
He dressed me up in scarlet red and treated me right kindly
But still I thought my heart would break for the girl I left behind me.
I was scarcely eighteen years of age when I was broken-hearted
I was deep in love for seven long years but then my jewel he parted
These maidens wonder why I’m mourn and bid me not to mind him
For he will have more grief than joy for the leaving of you behind him.
Now my love is gone from me I own I do not blame him
For often times he has told me he never would deceive me
But now he’s gone to serve the queen to some distant island
I hope one day he will return to the girl he left behind him
Oh me and my comrade both walked out one day for recreation
Me and my comrade both walked out to view a pleasant station
Me and my comrade both sat down while fair maids sat beside us
And we raised a glass and drank a toast to the girls we left behind us.
Right angrily these maids arose saying we can stay no longer
For if were not home by milking time I’m sure there will be anger
Sit down my handsome comely maids your cows are all in clover
Sit down fair maids and be content for your milking days are over.
Its not my love I blame I own all for our separation
That left me wandering far from home to a distant nation
But if ever I get liberty no one shall ever bind me
I’ll see my native land once more and the girl I left behind me
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5. |
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Farewell! my country, a long farewell,
My bitter anguish no tongue call tell,
For I must fly o’er the ocean wide
From the home I loved by Lough Sheelin’s side.
Fond memories come till my heart grows sad,
And vengeful thoughts till my brain goes mad,
When I think of Ellen, my gentle bride,
In the churchyard lone by Lough Sheelin’s side.
Ah! proud was I of my girl so tall
And envied most by the young men all
When I brought her back my blushing bride
To my cottage home by Lough Sheelin’s side.
But oh! our joy was too full to last;
The landlord came our young hopes to blast;
In vain we pleaded for mercy - no!
He turned us out in the blinding snow.
And none dare open for us their door
Or else his vengeance would reach them sure;
My Ellen fainted - in my arms died -
While the snow fell fast on the mountain side.
I said one prayer for my lifeless love,
And raised my hands to Heaven above
“Oh, God of justice” I wildly cried,
“Avenge the death of my murdered bride.”
We buried her down in the churchyard low,
Where in the springtime the daisies blow,
I shed no tear for the font was dry
On that woeful night by Lough Sheelin’s side.
Farewell! my country; farewell for aye!
The ship will soon bear me away,
But, oh, my fond heart will still abide
By my Ellen’s grave by Lough Sheelin’s side.
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6. |
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I sat within the valley green
I sat there with my true love.
My fond heart strove to choose between
The old love and the new love.
The old for her the new
That made me think on Ireland dearly.
While soft the wind blew down the glen
And shook the golden barley.
T'was hard the mournful words to frame
To break the ties that bound us.
yet harder still to bear the shame
Of foreign chains around us.
And so I said the mountain glen
I'll seek at morning early.
And join the brave united men
While soft winds shook the barley.
T'was sad I kissed away her tears
her arms around me clinging.
When to my ears that fateful shot
came out the wild woods ringing.
The bullet pierced my true love's heart
In life's young spring so early.
And there upon my breast she died
While soft winds shook the barley.
I bore her to some mountain stream and
And many’s the summer blossom
I placed with branches soft and green
About her gore stained bosom
I wept and kissed her clay cold corpse
And rushed ore vale and valley
My vengeance on the foe to reek
While soft wind shook the barley
And blood for blood without remorse
I took out oulart hollow.
I Placed my true love's clay cold corpse
Where mine full soon may follow.
Now round her grave I've wandered drear
Noon, night, and morning early.
With aching heart when e'er I hear
The wind that shakes the barley.
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7. |
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"Come, piper, play the 'Shaskan Reel,'
Or else the 'Lasses on the Heather,'
And, Mary, lay aside your wheel
Until we dance once more together.
At fair and pattern oft before
Of reels and jigs we've tripped full many;
But ne'er again this loved old floor,
Will feel the foot of Donal Kenny."
Softly she rose and took his hand,
And softly glided through the measure,
While, clustering round, the village band
Looked half in sorrow, half in pleasure.
Warm blessings flowed from every lip
As ceased the dancers' airy motion:
O Blessed Virgin! guide the ship
Which bears bold Donal o'er the ocean!
"Now God be with you all," he sighed,
Adown his face the bright tears flowing--
"God guard you well, a mhic, a ruin”
"Upon the strange path you are going."
So full his breast he scarce could speak,
With burning grasp the stretched hands taking,
He pressed a kiss on every cheek,
And sobbed as if his heart was breaking.
"Boys, don't forget me when I'm gone,
For sake of all the days passed over--
The days you spent on heath and bawn,
With Donal Ruadh, the rattlin' rover.
Mary, agra, your soft brown eye
Has willed my fate," he whispered lowly;
"Another holds thy heart: good-bye!
Heaven grant you both its blessings holy!”
A kiss upon her brow of snow,
A rush across the moonlit meadow,
Whose broom-clad hazels, trembling slow,
The mossy boreen wrapped in shadow;
Away o'er Tully's bounding rill,
And far beyond the Inny river;
One cheer on Carrick's rocky hill,
And Donal Kenny's gone forever.”
The breezes whistled through the sails,
O'er Galway Bay the ship was heaving,
And smothered groans and bursting wails
Told all the grief and pain of leaving.
One form among that exiled band
Of parting sorrow gave no token,
Still was his breath, and cold his hand;
For Donal Kenny's heart was broken
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8. |
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One hundred stars are burning bright above the old Slieve Bloom tonight
One hundred snow white horses in the March of the Kings of Laois
One hundred years have come and gone, one hundred journeys round the sun
One hundred blazing torches in the March of the Kings of Laois
In the March of the Kings of Laois
One hundred snow white horses, one hundred golden bridles
The silver reins a jingling in the March of the Kings of Laois
Seven royal banners, three times seven pipers
One hundred golden harpers in the March of the Kings of Laois
When Rory Mac Rory Óg O’ Moore fell with sword in hand
A hungry pack of Saxon wolves came howling through the land
The seven tribes of Laoise were scattered to the wind
But these settlers they would have no peace
While one O' Moore remained in Laois
A shot rang out on an Easter night
A whipcrack volley split the light
Arise arise cried Pearse, cried Pearse
Hear Ireland's lonely cry
One hundred stars are burning bright above the old Slieve Bloom tonight
One hundred snow white horses in the March of the Kings of Laois
One hundred golden bridles, the silver reins a jingling
The scent of gorse and juniper round the march of the kings of Laois
One thousand blue cloaked warriors like a wave on the wild blue sea
One thousand loyal heroes in the March of the Kings of Laois
Five hundred men with purpled spears, their shields of red and golden
Spears and helmets glistening by the light of the distant sun
Five hundred purpled spearsmen, champion every one
What warrior now comes flashing oer the plain
In his chariot of white bronze
Only Másc the Mighty down from his tower of stone, be afraid
His weapons trembling in his hands
Hear the shriek of the Morrigan down from Wolfhill, an Bhadhbh, an Bhadhbh
Hear the black howl of the Banshee over the plain
The Nore and the Barrow run red with blood, ochòn is ochón ó
One hundred stars are burning bright above the old Slieve Bloom tonight
One hundred snow white horses in the March of the Kings of Laois
Three druids from the mountain, their gray cloaks gathered round them
No-one saw it like I saw it, it's the March of the Kings of Laois
Three times fifty young men in the March of the Kings of Laois
There is not one among them but is the son of a king and a queen
But is the son of a king and a queen
A maiden in her chariot proud and wise and beautiful
Drawn by two black horses in the March of the Kings of Laois
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9. |
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As I went down through Dublin City at the hour of 12 at night
Who should I see but the Spanish lady washing her feet by candle light
First she washed them then she dried them, over a fire of amber coals
In all my life I never did see a maid so sweet about the souls
She had 20, 18, 16, 14, 12, 10, 8, 6, 4, 2 none
She had 19, 17, 15, 13, 11, 9, 7, 5, 3, and 1
As I came back through Dublin City at the hour of half past eight
Who should I see but the Spanish lady combing her hair in the broad daylight
First washed it then she brushed it, I her lap lay a silvery comb
In all my life I near did see a maid so sweet as I did roam
She had 20, 18, 16, 14, 12, 10, 8, 6, 4, 2 none
She had 19, 17, 15, 13, 11, 9, 7, 5, 3, and 1
As I came back through dublin city, just as the sun was about to set
Who should I see but the Spanish lady catching a moth in a golden net
When she saw me then she fled me lifting her petticoats ore her knee
In all my life I nare did see a maid so shy as this lady
She had 20, 18, 16, 14, 12, 10, 8, 6, 4, 2 none
She had 19, 17, 15, 13, 11, 9, 7, 5, 3, and 1
Round and round goes the wheel of fortune, where it rests now wearies me, fair maid they are so deceiving sad experience teaches me
Old age has laid her hand upon me, cold as a fire of ashy coals
Where is the lovely Spanish lady so mortal neat as I did roam
She had 20, 18, 16, 14, 12, 10, 8, 6, 4, 2 none
She had 19, 17, 15, 13, 11, 9, 7, 5, 3, and 1
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10. |
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For the sake of health I took a walk last week at early dawn.
I met a jolly turfman as I slowly jogged along.
The kindest salutations passed 'twixt him and me.
And it's soon I got acquainted with the Turfman from Ardee.
We chatted very freely as we jogged along the road.
He says, “My ass is tired, and I want to sell my load,
For I've got no refreshment since I left my home you see
I am wearied out with traveling,” says the Turfman from Ardee.
“Your cart is racked and worn friend, your ass is very old,
It must be twenty summers since that animal was foaled.”
“He was yoked and trapped when I was born, September, '83,
And he cantered for the midwife, says the Turfman from Ardee.
“I own my cart, it must be made of the very best of wood,
I do believe it was in use at the time of Noah's flood.
The axle never wanted grease but one year out of three-
It's a real old Carrick axle,” says the Turfman from Ardee.
“I often do abuse the beast with this rough hazel rod,
.Although I own I never yet did drive poor Jack unshod.
The harness now that's on his back was made by John Magee,
Who's dead this two and forty years,” says the Turfman from Ardee.
We talked about our country's woes and how we were oppressed,
The men we sent to Parliament to get out wrongs redressed,
“Sure, all these politicians are nothing else I see
But led by bloomin' humbug ” says the Turfman from Ardee.
Just then I heard a female voice that I knew very well,
Politely asking this old man his load of turf to sell.
I shook that boney hand of his and bowed respectfully,
In hopes to meet some future day the Turfman from Ardee.
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11. |
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There is not in this wide world a valley so sweet
As the vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet,
Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
Yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green
'Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill
Oh! no, it was something more exquisite still.
Oh! no, it was something more exquisite still
'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom were near
Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear
And who felt how the best charms of nature improve
When we see them reflected from looks that we love.
When we see them reflected from looks that we love.
Sweet Vale of Avoca! how calm I could rest,
In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best
Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace.
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace.
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12. |
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Oh, as I went a-walking one morning in May
I met Sergeant Johnston along the highway.
Says the sergeant to Pat Reilly, – You are a clever young man,
Will you go to John Kelly’s where we’ll have a dram?
Then as we sat smoking and drinking our dram
Says the sergeant to Pat Reilly, – you are a handsome young man,
Oh, would you list, take the shilling, and come away with me
To the sweet county Longford, strange faces you’ll see.
Oh, I took the shilling and the reckoning was paid,
The ribbons were bought and we hoist the cockade.
Oh, but early next morning sure we all had to stand
Up before our grand general with our hats in our hand.
He says to Pat Reilly, – You are a shade rather low,
Unto some other regiment I’m afraid you must go.
Oh, I took the shilling and the reckoning was paid,
The ribbons were bought and we hoist the cockade.
– Oh, let me go where I will, sure I’ve no one to mourn
For my mother she is dead and will never return.
My father got married and fetched a stepmother home,
She fairly denies me and does me disown.
Oh, I took the shilling and the reckoning was paid,
The ribbons were bought and we hoist the cockade.
Oh, had my father been honest man and learnt me my trade
I never would have listed nor hoist the cockade.
It's not in the morning that I sing my song it's in the cold evening as I march alone
With my gun ore my shoulder I bitterly do weep
When I think of my true love who now lies asleep
Oh, I took the shilling and the reckoning was paid,
The ribbons were bought and we hoist the cockade.
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13. |
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Oh 'tis I would be in Árd Tí Cuain
Where the mountains stands away
And 'tis I would let the Sunday go
In a cuckoo's glen above the bay
Agus, och och Éire lig is o
Éire lionndubh agus o
Ah, the quiet land of Érin
Oh my heart is weary all alone
And it sends a lonely cry
To the land that sings beyond my dreams
And the lonely Sundays pass me
by
But the grave is waiting for us all
The world must heed its all
It steals the mother from her brood
And it stole away my childhood
I would travel back the twisted years
Through the bitter wasted wind
If the God above would let me lie
In a quiet place above the wind
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14. |
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Come all you loyal heroes wherever you may be
Don't toil with any master 'till you know what your work will be
For you must rise up early from the clear daylight till the dawn
And you never will be able for to plough the rocks of Bawn
My shoes they are well worn, my socks are wearing thin
And my heart is always trembling for fear they might give in
My heart is always trembling from the clear daylight till the dawn
For fear I wont be able to plough the rocks of Bawn
My curse upon you Sweeney you have me nearly robbed
You're sitting by the fireside with you doogeen in your gob
You're sitting by the fireside from the clear daylight 'till the dawn
And you never will be able now to plough the rocks of Bawn
Rise up gallant Sweeney and get your horses hay
And give them a good feed of oats before they start the day
Don't feed him on soft turnip put him out on yon green lawn
Or he never will be able for to plough the rocks of Bawn
I wish the Queen of England would send for me in time
And place me in some regiment all in my youth of prime
I'd fight for Ireland's glory from the clear daylight 'till the dawn
And I would never return again to plough the rocks of Bawn
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15. |
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If I had the wings of a swallow I would travel far over the sea
And a rocky old road I would follow to a spot that is heaven to me
When the sun goes to rest way down in the west
Then I'll build such a nest in the place I love best
In that dear little town in the old County Down
It will linger way down in my heart
Tho it never was grand it is my fairy land
Just a wonderful world set apart
O my island of dreams you are with me it seems
And I care not for fame or renown
Like the black sheep of old I'll return to the fold
Little town in the old County Down.
In the evening when shadows are falling
'Round the old door without any key
There's a voice in my dreams ever calling
And loving eyes watching for me
There is someone I bless with true tenderness
And her lips I'll caress when I bring happiness
In that dear little town in the old County Down
It will linger way down in my heart
Tho it never was grand it is my fairy land
Just a wonderful world set apart
O my island of dreams you are with me it seems
And I care not for fame or renown
Like the black sheep of old I'll return to the fold
Little town in the old County Down.
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16. |
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Good luck to all here, now, barrin' the cat,
that sits in the corner smellin' a rat.
Boys, wheest your philanderin' now and behave,
and savin' your favors I'll chant you a stave.
I come from a land where the praties grow big,
and the boys nice and handy can whirl in a jig,
and the girls they would charm your heart for to see,
the darlin' colleens around Tanderagee.
So here's to the boys that's so happy and gay,
Singin' and dancin' and tearin' away,
Rollicksome, frolicsome, frisky and free,
We're the rollicking boys around Tanderagee.
No doubt you have heard of Killarney, I'm sure,
and sweet Inishowen for a drop of the pure.
Dublin's a place for the strawberry beds,
and Donnybrook fair for the breakin' of heads.
Did you ever see an Irishman dancin' paltogue,
as he faced up his partner and turned up his brogue.
He twisted the buckle and bent at the knee,
oh, they're wonderful dancers in Tanderagee.
Now, show me the man either Christian or Turk,
who could equal our brave Robbert Emmett or Burke,
and show me the speaker could speak up like Dan,
ach, divil another bad luck to the one,
Oh show me the singer could sing like Tom Moore,
his melodies charmed all care from our door,
But we'll beat them all yet, and that you will see,
for we're rare and fine boys around Tanderagee.
His old jauntin' car was the elegant joult,
and Derry's the place that is famed for her hoult,
Among the green bushes that grow in Tyrone,
and the County Fermanagh for muscle and bone.
For courtin' and blarney and fun at the fair,
there's no-one can equal the rakes of Kildare.
Green Erin my country's the gem of the sea,
but the gem of green Erin is Tanderagee.
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17. |
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I know a wee spot it’s a place of great fame
it lies to the north now I’ll tell you its name
It’s my own native birthplace and it’ lies on Irish soil
And they call it lovely Derry on the banks of the Foyle.
I courted a wee girl her age was nineteen
She was the fairest young lady that I’d ever seen
Her cheeks were like roses and her hair waved in coil
And she came from lovely Derry on the banks of the Foyle.
But then cruel misfortune drove me from my home
‘Twas my fate in deep sorrow to sail o’er the foam
And now from dark strangers in grief I recoil
While I pine for lovely Derry on the banks of the Foyle.
I was fearing that another had a place in her heart
And that from my darlin forever I would part
And no more would she brighten with her sweet sunny smile
My home in lovely Derry on the banks of the Foyle.
But a wee bird came flying from over the sea
And he brought me a letter from my true love to see
Saying ‘Come home my darling to your native soil
And I’ll wed you in lovely Derry on the banks of the Foyle.’
Now when I make a fortune it’s back home I will go
To the dear land of my boyhood to the sweet girl I know
I will build her a mansion and no more need we toil
Far away from lovely Derry on the banks of the Foyle.
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18. |
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Fill, pill a rún ó
Fill a rún ó is ná himigh uaim
Fill orm a chuisle 's a stór
Agus chífidh tú 'n ghlóir má fhilleann tú
Shúil mise thall is abhus
I Móta Ghráinn' Óige do rugadh mé
'S ní fhaca aon iontas go fóill
Mar an Sagart Ó Donaill 'na mhinistir
Dhiúltaigh tú Peadar is Pól
Mar gheall ar an ór 's ar an airgead
Dhiúltaigh tú Banríon na Glóire
Agus d'iompaigh tú gcóta 'n mhinistir
Chorus (after each verse):
Turn, turn, my dear
Turn, my dear and don't go now
Turn, my own heart's dear
And you will see God's glory if you turn again
I have traveled far and wide
Throughout Moate where I was born
And I have never yet seen such a wonder
As Father O'Donaill turned Minister
You denied Peter and Paul
Because of the gold and the silver
You denied the Queen of Glory
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19. |
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As I was walkin' one morning all in the month of May
To view all your mountains and valleys so gay,
I was thinking on the flowers all going to decay
That bloom around ye, bonny, bonny Slieve Gallion Braes.
Full of times I have wandered with my dog and my gun,
I'd ramble these mountains and your valleys for fun,
But those days they now all over and I can no longer stay
So farewell unto you bonny, bonny, Slieve Gallion Braes.
How oft in the evening with the sun all in the west
I walked hand in hand with the one I love best
But the hopes of youth are ended and I am far away
So farewell unto you bonny bonny Slieve Gallion Braes
'tis not for the want of employment at home
That causes the son of ould Ireland to roam,
But the rates were gettin' higher and I could no longer stay
So farewell unto you bonny, bonny, Slieve Gallion Braes.
Our isle it will be green and our cottages be gay
Our children will be clothed and our wives will drink strong tea
Oh you tyrannizing landlords - I will no longer stay
So farewell unto to you bonny bonny Slieve Gallion Braes
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20. |
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One evening for pleasure I rambled
To view the fair fields all alone
Down by the banks of Loch Erin
Where beauty and pleasure were known
I spied a fair maid at her labor
Which caused me to stay for a while
I thought her the Goddess of Beauty
The blooming bright star of Belle Isle
I humbled myself to her beauty
"Fair maiden, where do you belong?
Are you from the heavens descended
Abiding in Cupid's fair throng?"
"Young man, I will tell you a secret
It's true I'm a maid who is poor
And to part from my vows and my promise
Is more than my heart can endure
Therefore I'll remain at my service
And go through all hardship and toil
And wait for the lad that has left me
Alone on the banks of Belle Isle"
"Young maiden I wish not to banter
Tis true I came here in disguise
I came to fulfill my last promise
And hoped to give you a surprise
I own you're the maid I love dearly
You've been in my heart all the while
For me there is no other damsel
Than the blooming bright star of Belle Isle
May the great god in heaven protect them
And loyalty be there's all the while
And soft honey will sweeten the comforts
Of the blooming bright star of Belle Isle
|
||||
21. |
||||
|
Come all you young rebels and list while I sing
For love of one's country is a terrible thing
It banishes fear with the speed of a flame
And makes us all part of the patriot's game
My name is O'Hanlon, I've just gone sixteen
My home is in Monaghan and where I was weaned
I've learned all my life cruel England’ to blame
So now I am part of the patriot game
It's barely a year since I wandered away
With a local battalion of the bold IRA
I've read of our heroes, I've wanted the same
to play up my part in the patriot's game
They told me how Connolly was shot in a chair
His wounds from the battle all bloody and bare
His fine body twisted, all tattered and lame
They soon made him part of the patriot's game
This Ireland of ours has for long been half free
Six counties are under John Bull's tyranny
So I gave up my boyhood to drill and to train
To play my own part in the patriot game
Now as I lie here my body all holes
I think of those traitors who bargained and sold
I wish that my rifle had given the same
For those Quislings who sold out the patriot game
|
||||
22. |
||||
|
One day as I went to my rambles
from Swinford to sweet Ballylea
I met with a maid as I rambled
and her name it was Mary Magee.
Well, she sighed for the rights of old Ireland:
Michael Davitt, my brave Irish boy,
He is now in a prison in Portland,
Far from the lovely sweet banks of the Moy.
I quickly approached this fair maiden,
asked her the cause of her woe
and what was the cause of her misery
that forced her from home to roam.
Well, she sighed, for the rights of old Ireland
Michael Davitt, my brave Irish boy,
He is now in a prison in Portland,
Far from the lovely sweet banks of the Moy.
Don't speak of your sweet '67,
We had brave men and true men you know
There was young Peter Carney, God rest him,
He died in Killarney, also.
He was trailed by the brave, Michael Davitt,
'round the valleys and plains of Fermoy.
And that's why he's in prison in Portland,
Far from the lovely sweet banks of the Moy.
So now to conclude and to finish
I hope that the day soon will come
when those cruel landlords and bailiffs
From the isle of St. Patrick must run.
We will unfurl our green and gold banner
And we’ll raise them for Ireland on high,
Then we will drink to our brave Michael Davitt
from the lovely sweet banks of the Moy.
|
||||
23. |
||||
|
Eileen Óg oh that the darlin's name is
Through the Barony her features they were famous
If we all loved her who was there to blame us
For wasn't she the Pride of Petravore?
But her beauty made us all so shy
Not a man among us could look her in the eye
Boys, oh boys, sure that's the reason why
We're in mourning' for the Pride of Petravore
Eileen Óg my heart is growin' gray
Ever since the day you wandered far away
Eileen Óg, there's good fish in the sea
But there's none of them like the Pride of Petravore
Friday at the fair in Ballintubber
Eileen met McGrath the cattle jobber
I’d like to set my mark upon the robber
For he stole away the Pride of Petravore
He never seemed to see the girl at all
Even when she ogled him from underneath her shawl
Lookin' big and masterful while she was lookin' small
Most provoking' for the Pride of Petravore
So it went as was in the beginning
Eileen Óg was bent upon the winning
Big McGrath contentedly was grinning
Being courted by the Pride of Petravore
Says he: “I know a girl that could knock you into fits”
At that Eileen nearly lost her wits
The upshot of the ruction is that now the robber sits
With his arm around the Pride of Petravore
Boys, oh boys, with fate it's hard to grapple
Of my eyes Eileen was the apple
Now I see her walkin' to the chapel
With the hardest featured man in Petravore
Ah now, boys, this is all I have to say:
When you do your courtin' make no display
If you want them to run after you, just walk the other way
For they're mostly like the Pride of Petravore
|
||||
24. |
||||
|
My youthful days are past and it makes my heart feel weary,
As I sit in the cart in the wilds of the prairie,
Hunting the deer that skip around the beaver,
While my thoughts fondly stray to the Bogs of Shanaheever.
By the cold light of the moon won’t you tell them to be ready.
Tell them to prepare and to bring on Master Freddy.
Tell them to be quick and tell them to be very clever,
For it’s my last day of coursing on the Bogs of Shanaheever.
From the shores of Lough Oonagh to the Plains of Glenrikken,
Beneath a red sun my poor old heart is ticking.
We made straight for Letterdean, but the land it didn’t favor,
So we crossed over the mountains for the Bogs Of Shanaheever.
They have boasted in London of the trials of O’Donnel.
And young Willie Ayres praised the fortunes of Diana.
But the truth to you I’ll tell, that Diana was the favorite.
But Victor took the sway on the Bogs of Shanaheever.
On the day that Victor died, my coursing days were over,
And I sat down and cried like a broken-hearted lover.
I put Victor in his grave and I left him there forever,
And booked passage to New York from the Bogs of Shanaheever.
So it’s fare-you-well dear Ireland, and fare-you-well forever.
There is nowhere in the world I will look on with such favor.
And if ever I return I’ll come back again and see her,
And I’ll spend my days at coursing on the Bogs of Shanaheever.
|
||||
25. |
||||
|
This young man’s name was Pat O’Brien a carpenter by trade
Both day and night he took delight in courting this fair maid
She was young and innocent and always to the fore,
But little was her notion that he’d prove her overthrow.
She wrote to him a letter and an answer to it came
Saying ‘Nancy, lovely Nancy, I hope you’ll not me blame
For I’ve been working all this time and could not see you o’er
But I hope to have your company this evening at the grove’.
When she read those few lines they enticed her for to go
She dressed herself in private, I mean you for to know
The night was bright with the moonlight which caused her for to go
But little was her notion, she’d never come back home
When he saw her coming, it was then he went to hide
The words he said unto himself, ‘You’ll never be my bride
For I have heard for certain that you have me deceived
And this very night I’ll take your life, a butcher I will be’.
It was then he stepped up to her and then his color changed.
She said ‘Patsy, lovely Patsy, what makes you look so pale?’
I want no talk at all from you, just kneel down there and pray
For there’s not a woman breathing will ever deceive me.
He caught her by the yellow lock and drew her to the ground.
;Twas with a knife he stabbed her oh, and gave her a deadly wound
Her last dying words ‘Pat O’Brien you do not feel my pain.
And twas with a spade he dug her grave and then dashed out her brains.
This girl was 3 days buried to her mother she did appear,
The mother spoke to her without any dread or fear
She says ‘mother loving mother you’ll never see me more
For Pat O’Brien has murdered me and laid me in my gore
‘Go down to that old grove be sure make no delay,
There you’ll find my body buried, and covered with the clay
You’ll find the blood spilled on the spot, the place he murdered me.
Go down and get him taken and hung he’ll surely be.
The night before his trial came on to him she did appear
With her baby in her arms, oh which filled her heart with fear.
She said “often times you told me that I would be your bride
On the gallows high you now will die for taking away my life.
|
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26. |
||||
|
An dtiocfá liom go Contae Liatroma
Dúirt plúirín1 na mban donn óg
Thabharfainn bia agus lón gach oíche duit
Deir plúirín na mban donn óg
Míle céad a b’fhearr liom bheith ariamh gan fear
Ná a bheith ag siúl an drúchta is na bhfásach leat
Mar gur thug mo chroí dhuit grá is gean2
Dúirt plúirín na mban donn óg.
Ní thiocfaidh mé leat, is níl aon mhaith dhuit a bheith m’ iarraidh
Dúirt plúirín na mban donn óg
Ní choinneodh do bhriathra beo gan bia mé
Dúirt plúirín na mban donn óg
B’fhearr liom féin bheith ariamh gan fear
Ná a bheith ag siúl an drúchta is na bhfásach leat
Mar thug mo chroí dhuit grá is gean
Dúirt plúirín na mban donn óg.
Translation
‘Would you come with me to County Leitrim?’
Said the flower of young brown-haired women.
‘I would you give you food and a meal every night,’
Says the flower of young brown-haired women.
‘I would a thousand times rather be without a man forever
Than to be walking through the dew and the wilderness with you;
For my heart gave you love and affection,’
Said the flower of young brown-haired women.
‘I won’t come with you, and it’s no good your asking me,’ ‑
Said the flower of young brown-haired women.
‘Your words won’t keep me alive without food,’
Said the flower of young brown-haired women.
‘I’d rather be without a man forever
Than to be walking through the dew and the wilderness with you;
For my heart gave you love and affection,’
Said the flower of young brown-haired women. Munster
|
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27. |
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|
Pat Molloy was an Irish boy, he left sweet County Clare
Says he, ‘I’ll go to London to see the wonders there
Sure I’ve often heard that London was a very pretty place
So bedad says he, I’ll go and see it that’s the blooming case
When Pat arrived in London, he was taken by surprise
For the sights of that great city fairly dazzled Paddy’s eyes
One day while going down the street meditating to himself
He met a ragged Cockney with a donkey, selling delph
This damed old ragged cockney wouldn’t let poor Paddy pass
Saying ‘Come and speak to your brother’ while he pointed to the ass
‘Well bedad’ says Pat ‘I never knew that I had a brother here’
And turned round he whispered something into the ass’s ear
When Pat was speaking to ass, now boys what did he do?
He dropped a pebble in his ear, he did bedad ’tis true
The ass went mad, upset the cart, smashed all the earthenware
And the damned old ragged Cockney, he went crazy clear and clane
Now he called upon the peeler for to take poor Pat in charge
Saying ‘Seize this Irish vagabond, for he shouldn’t be at large’
‘Begone you English spailpín’ cries Paddy with a smile
‘For you took me to be an ass because I come from Erin’s Isle’
Thats nonsense cried the magistrate, you know the ass went mad
I do indeed said paddy and I’m sorry to bedad
Be careful cried the Magistrate I’ll have no nonsense here
But come and tell me every word you whispered in his ear
‘Well indeed I will’ says Paddy, ‘that request I can’t refuse
For I’d often heard that donkeys, they were very fond of news
I thought I might say something this ‘oul donkey’s heart to cheer
And now I’ll tell you every word that I whispered in his ear’
‘Well, I told the ass’ says Paddy, ‘that we had our wrongs redressed
That noble wealthy Irishmen were no longer oppressed
We got rid of all the landlords, Ireland to ourselves we had
And when the donkey heard the news, be Jesus he went mad’
The magistrate, from laughing well he had to creep his head
When he looked at poor Ould Paddy and he thought of what he said
And turning round to Paddy ‘what a clever rogue you are
And for your clever answer, I’ll dismiss you from the bar’
|
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28. |
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|
I am a young fellow who has always loved rural sport-
The fairs and the patterns of Erin I used to resort,-
The true sons of Bacchus were always in my company,-
Till I was deprived of my deartháirín ó mo chroí.-
The womb's turned to earth that gave birth to my brother and me,-
My father and mother have gone to eternity,-
We worked at our trade and our money we spent it quite free,-
Which makes me lament for my deartháirín ó mo chroí.
When we were children we did each other adore,-
This lovely green island we wandered it o'er and o'er,-
My brother was taken and sent o'er the dark rolling sea,-
And I am left lonely for deartháirín ó mo chroí.
In Dublin's fair city my brother he was pressed away-
On board of a warship to Spain o'er the wild rolling sea.-
Where cannons roar loudly and bullets like lightning do fly,-
Perhaps in some battle my deartháirín ó might die.
He was sent to the wars for to fight against Boney and France,-
His regiment was first in the red battle ranks to advance,-
But when night cast it's gloom on that gory and life wasting lea,-
Pale, bleeding and cold lay my deartháirín ó mo chroí.
If heaven would aid me and send me to Spain where he be,-
My life I would venture to set him at liberty,-
Like a true loyal brother I would fight for him manfully,-
Or I'd die in the arms of my deartháirín ó mo chroí.-
But now I'm alone like the desolate bird of the night,-
The world and it's beauties no longer afford me delight,
The dark narrow grave is the only sad refuge for me,-
Since I lost my heart's treasure my deartháirín ó mo chroí
|
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29. |
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|
Johnny Carey loved a beauty a lively cutie Molly O’Leary
But her father won’t agree his daughter to give to Johnny Ceary
Away we’ll run away for the fun for my father is too contraire
Won’t you follow me, won’t you follow me,
Faith I will said Johnny Carey
Ry di diddle doh, di outtle doddle doh
diddrey outtle di dittle die do diddle do
Ry di diddle doh, di outtle doddle doh
diddrey outtle di dittle die do diddle do
Molly’s father died one day they say twas not from drinking water
The house the cash the land they say, was left by will to Molly’s daughter
The house the cash the land also, away we’ll run so meet and cheers
Won’t you follow me won’t you follow me
Faith I will said Johnny Carey
Ry di diddle doh, di outtle doddle doh
diddrey outtle di dittle die do diddle do
Ry di diddle doh, di outtle doddle doh
diddrey outtle di dittle die do diddle do
Molly herself was taken bad the fever worse each day was growing
Johnny dear tis awful sad to the other world I think I’m going
You won’t survive my loss you know, no longer remain in Tipperary
Won’t you follow me won’t you follow me
Faith I WILL NOT said Johnny Carey
Ry di diddle doh, di outtle doddle doh
diddrey outtle di dittle die do diddle do
Ry di diddle doh, di outtle doddle doh
diddrey outtle di dittle die do diddle do
|
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30. |
The Boys Of Fairhill
02:45
|
|||
|
Come on boys and you'll see
Lads and lassies full of glee
Famous for all they will make your heart thrill
The boys they will not harm you
The girls they will all charm you
'Here's up 'em all!' says the boys of Fair Hill
Come on boys and spend a day
With our harrier club so gay
The cry of the hounds it will make your heart thrill
When you hear Quinton say
'Challenger has won the day'
'Here's up 'em all!' says the boys of Fair Hill
Come on boys and spend the day
With our bowling club so gay
The loft of the ball it will make your heart thrill
When you hear the Shea boy say
'Jimmy Delaney's won thе day'
'Here's up 'em all!' says thе boys of Fair Hill
Come on up to Fahy's well
For a pint of pure spring water
The grandest place of all, sure the angels do sing
Thousands come from o'er the foam
Just to kiss that blarney stone
That can be viewed from the groves of Fair Hill
Come on down to Quinlan's pub
That is where you join our club
Round us in gallons the porter does flow
First we tap to half a terse
Drink a health to Dashwodd's race
'That's the stuff to give them!' says the boys of Fair Hill
|
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31. |
||||
|
It was early one morning' young Willie rose
And off to his comrade's bedchamber did go
Sayin', "Arise dearest comrades! Let nobody know"
"It's a fine summer's morning' to the lakes let us go”
Well, Willie plunged in and he swam to lay ground
'Till he came to an island of soft marshy ground
Crying, "Comrades dearest comrades, do not venture in
For there's false and deep waters in the Lakes of Coolfin
Well, early next morning Willie's sister arose
And onto her mother's bedchamber did go
Sayin', "I had a sad dream 'bout Willie last night
He was clad in a shroud, In a shroud of snow white”
Well, later that evening Willie's mother stood there
She was ringing her fingers and tearing her hair
Saying woe to the hour young Willie plunged in
For there's false and deep waters in the Lakes of Coolfin
Well, I saw a fair maid standing fast by the shore
Her face it was sad she was crying for sure
Singing woe to the hour young Willie plunged in
For there's false and deep waters in the Lakes of Coolfin
|
||||
32. |
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|
Bog braon, bog braon, bog braon don seanduine,
Bog braon, is blais féin, is é a thabhairt don seanduine.
Cuir a chodhladh, cuir a chodhladh, cuir a chodhladh an seanduine,
Cuir a chodhladh, is nigh a chosa , bog braon don seanduine.
Ubh circe, ubh circe, ubh circe don seanduine,
Ubh circe, is blúirín ime, is é a thabhairt don seanduine.
Cuir a chodhladh, cuir a chodhladh, cuir a chodhladh an seanduine,
Cuir a chodhladh, is nigh a chosa , bog braon don seanduine.
Feoil úr, feol úr, feol úr don seanduine,
Feoil úr, is braon súip, is é a thabhairt don seanduine.
Cuir a chodhladh, cuir a chodhladh, cuir a chodhladh an seanduine,
Cuir a chodhladh, is nigh a chosa , bog braon don seanduine.
Bog braon, bog braon, bog braon don seanduine,
Bog braon, is blais féin, is é a thabhairt don seanduine.
Translation
Move a drop, move a drop, move a drop for the old one
Move a drop, taste it yourself and give it to the old one
Chorus
Put to sleep put to sleep put to sleep the old one
Put to sleep and wash his feet and move a drop for the old one
A hen’s egg a hen’s egg hen’s egg for the old one
A hen’s egg and a little dab of butter and give it to the old one
Chorus
Fresh meat fresh meat fresh meat for the old one
Fresh meat and a drop of soup and give it to the old one
Chorus
Move a drop move a drop move a drop for the old one
Move a drop taste it yourself and give it to the old one
|
||||
Cathy Jordan Sligo, Ireland
Singer, musician and songwriter,
Roscommon born Cathy Jordan has been a professional singer with traditional group
“Dervish” for nearly 30 years. She is a self-taught guitar, bouzouki, bodhrán and bones player. Cathy has been an ambassador for Irish culture and music for over a quarter of a century, and has a deep understanding of traditional Irish songs and singing.
... more
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