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Stefan's Florilegium


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SI-songbook1-art - 5/24/96

A Collection of Scottish and Irish songs, compiled by Ioseph of Locksley.
This songbook is divided into four parts for ease of downloading. You
are reading part 1 of 4.

NOTE: Also see the files: p-songs-msg, song-sources-msg, songs-msg, songs2-msg,
harps-msg, guitar-art, drums-msg, bardic-msg, Bardic-Guide-art.


This file is a collection of various messages having a common theme that
I have collected from my reading of the various computer networks. Some
messages date back to 1989, some may be as recent as yesterday.

This file is part of a collection of files called Stefan's Florilegium.
These files are available on the Internet at: http://www.florilegium.org

I have done a limited amount of editing. Messages having to do with
seperate topics were sometimes split into different files and sometimes
extraneous information was removed. For instance, the message IDs were
removed to save space and remove clutter.

The comments made in these messages are not necessarily my viewpoints. I
make no claims as to the accuracy of the information given by the
individual authors.

Please respect the time and efforts of those who have written these
messages. The copyright status of these messages is unclear at this
time. If information is published from these messages, please give
credit to the orignator(s).

Thank you,
Mark S. Harris AKA: Lord Stefan li Rous
mark.s.harris@motorola.com stefan@florilegium.org

From: beudach@aol.com (Lord Graeme O'Baoighill)
Newsgroups: rec.org.sca
Subject: Graeme's Aforementioned Songbook
Date: 27 Mar 1995 16:10:41 GMT
Organization: Duchy Tarragon


compiled and transcribed by Joe Bethancourt

<part 1 of 4>


As I roved out on a May morning,
On a May morning bright early
I saw me love upon a hill
And Lord but she was early

Chorus: And she sang ap-a-diddle, ap-a-diddle, ap-a-diddle-ee
Hidle-ap-a-dee, and she hidle-ap-a-dee and she landed.

Where are ye going my bonnie wee girl,
Where are ye going my honey
I'm going to the house on the top of the hill
I live there with my mommie.

And will ye come to my mother's house
When the moon is shinin' clearly?
I'll open the door and let y'in
And divil a one will hear us.

I went to the house on the top of the hill
When the moon was shining clearly
Will you arise and let me in
For your mommie not to hear ya.

She took me horse by the bridle and bit
And led him to the stable
Sayin' "there's plenty of oats for a soldier's horse
To eat if he is able.

She took me by the lily-white hand
And led me to the table
Sayin' "There's plenty of wine for a soldier boy
Now, laddie, are y'able?"

Then I got up and made the bed
And made it nice and easy
Then I got up and laid her down
Sayin' "Lassie, are y'able!"

She caught her by the hair of the head
And down the stairs she brought her
And with the butt of a hazel twig
She was a well beat daughter

Will ye marry me now my soldier lad
Will ye marry me now my honey
Marry me now my soldier lad
For I have not a home here

And when will you return again
And when will we get married?
When broken shells make Christmas bells
We might well get married

Oh, I can't marry you, my bonnie wee girl
I can't marry you my honey
For I've a wife and child at home
And I would not desert them.


-Christchurch NZ University Revue
tune: "Men Of Harlech"

What's the use of drinking tea
indulging in sobriety?
(and) tee-total perversity?
It's healthier to booze!
What's the use of milk and water?
these are drinks that never oughter
be allowed in any quarter
Come on, lose your Blues!
Mix yourself a Shandy!
Drown yourself in brandy!
A Sherry sweet, a Whiskey neat,
or any kind of likker that is handy!
There's no blinking sense in drinking
any thing that doesn't make you stinking
There's no happiness like sinking
blotto to the floor!

Put an end to all frustration
drinking may be your salvation
end it all in dissapation
rotten to the core!
Abberations metabolic
Ceilings that are hyperbolic
these are for the Alcoholic
lying on the floor!
Vodka for the arty
Gin, to make you hearty!
Lemonade was only made
for drinking if your mother's at the party!
So stay clear of home-made beer
and anything that isn't labeled "clear"
There is nothing else to fear!
Bottoms up, my boys!



CHORUS: All around my hat, I will wear the green willow
And all around my hat, for a twelve-month and a day!
And if any one will ask me the reason why I'm wearin' it
It's all for my true love who is far, far away!

Fare thee well, cold Winter, and fare thee well cold Frost
It's nothing I have gained but my own true love I've lost
I'll sing and I'll be merry, when occasion I do see
She's a false, deludin' young girl, let her go! Farewell be!

My love she was fair, and my love she was kind, too
And many were the happy hours between my love and me
I never could refuse her, whatever she'd a mind to
She's a false, deludin' young girl, let her go! Farewell be!

The other night I brought her a fine diamond ring
But she tried to deprive me of a far better thing
I never could refuse her, whatever she'd a mind to
She's a false, deludin' young girl, let her go! Farewell be!

Will my love be true, and will my love be faithful?
Will she find another young man, to court her when I'm gone?
The men will all come court her, so pretty and so graceful
She's a false, deludin' young girl, let her go! Farewell be!

It's a quarter pound of Reason, and a half a pound of Sense
A small sprig of Time, and as much of Prudence,
You mix them all together, and you will plainly see
She's a false, deludin' young girl, let her go! Farewell be!

(Note: This version is a composite of lyrics sung by Steeleye Span
and those found in "Folksongs And Ballads of Ireland" Vol. 2,
from Ossian Publications.


-Anonymous (PD)
tune: Lydia Wood
recorded by Judy Collins

Lazlo Thea stole a stallion
Stole him from the Misty Mountain
And they chased him, and they caught him
And in iron chains they bound him.

Word was brought to Anna Thea
That her brother was in prison
"Give me gold and six white horses
I will buy my brother's freedom."

"Judge, Oh Judge please spare my brother
I will give you gold and silver!"
"I don't want your gold and silver;
All I want are your sweet favours!"

"Anna Thea, Oh my sister!
Are you mad with grief and sorrow?
He will rob you of your Flower,
And he'll hang me from the gallows!"

Anna Thea did not heed him;
Straightway to the Judge went running.
In his golden bed, at midnight,
There she heard the gallows groaning!

Cursed be that Judge so cruel!
Thirteen years shall he lie bleeding!
Thirteen doctors shall not heal him!
Thirteen shelves of drugs won't save him!

Anna Thea, Anna Thea!
Don't go out into the forest!
There, among the green pines standing,
You will find your brother....hanging.


(Tune: "Rosin the Beau")
(Recorded: "Celtic Pride: In Strange Form")

I was up to me arse in the muck, Sir,
with a peat contract down in the bog
When me shovel it struck something hard, Sir,
that I thought was a rock or a log

T'was a box of the finest old oak, Sir,
T'was a foot long, and four inches wide
and not giving a damn for the Fairies
I just took a quick look inside

Now I opened the lid of this box, Sir,
and I swear that my story is true
T'was an ancient and old Irish condom
A relic of Brian Boru

T'was an ancient and old Irish condom
T'was a foot long, and made of elk hide,
With a little gold tag on it's end, Sir,
with his name, rank, and stud fee inscribed

Now, I cast me mind back thru the ages
To the days of that horny old Celt
With his wife lyin' by on the bed, Sir,
As he stood by the fire in his pelt

And I thought that I heard Brian whisper
As he stood in the fire's rosy light
"Well, you've had yer own way long enough, dear...
'Tis the hairy side outside, tonight."



There's lilt in the song I sing, there's laughter and love
There's tang of the sea, and blue from Heaven above!
Of reason there's none; and why should there be, for why?
As long as there's fire in the blood, and light in the eye!

CHORUS: Air falalalo horo, air falalalay (3X)
Falee, falo, horo, air falalalay!

The heather's ablaze wi' bloom, the myrtle is sweet
There's song in the air; the road's a song at our feet!
So step it along as light as the bird on the wing!
And, stepping along, let's join our voices and sing:

And whether the blood be Highland, Lowland or no,
And whether the hue be black or white as the snow;
Of kith and of kin, we are One, be it right, be it wrong,
If only our hearts beat true to the lilt of the song!


(Tune: "My Name it is Sam Hall," "Ye Jacobites By Name," "My Name is
William Kidd," "What Wondrous Love is This?" &c.)

Ken ye how a Whig can fight, Aikendrum, Aikendrum
Ken ye how a Whig can fight, Aikendrum
He can fight the hero bright, with his heels and armour tight
And the wind of heavenly night, Aikendrum, Aikendrum
Is not Rowley in the right, Aikendrum!

Did ye hear of Sunderland, Aikendrum (etc as above)
That man of high command, who has sworn to clear the land
He has vanished from our strand (etc as above)
Or the eel has ta'en the sand, Aikendrum.

Donald's running round and round (etc)
But the Chief cannot be found, and the Dutchmen they are drowned
And King Jaime he is crowned (etc)
But the dogs will get a stound, Aikendrum

We have heard of Whigs galore (etc)
But we've sought the country o'er, with cannon and claymore,
And still they are before (etc)
We may seek forevermore, Aikendrum!

Ken ye how to gain a Whig (etc)
Look Jolly, blythe and big, take his ain blest side and prig,
And the poor, worm-eaten Whig (etc)
For opposition's sake you will win!

-from "Jacobite Relics" James Hogg, 1874



Chorus: On the banks of the roses my love and I sat down
And I took out a fiddle for to play my love a tune
In the middle of the tune, oh, she sighed and she said
Young Johnny, lovely Johnny, would you leave me?

When I was just a young lad, I heard my father say
I'd sooner see you dead and buried in the clay
Rather than be married to any runaway
On the lovely sweet banks of the roses.

Oh, then I am a runaway and soon I'll let you know
That I can drink a bottle and drink with anyone
And if her father doesn't like me, he can keep his daughter home
Then Johnny will go roving with another.

If ever I get married 'twill be in the month of May
When the leaves they are green and the meadows they are gay
And me and my true love will sit and sport and play
By the lovely sweet banks of the roses.



He was a fine upstanding bantam-cock
So brisk, and stiff, and spry...
With a springy step, and a jaunty plume,
And a purposeful look in his eye
In his little black laughing eye!

So I took him to the coop and introduced him to
My seventeen wide-eyed hens
And he tupped and he tupped as a hero tupps,
And he bowed to them all, and then,
He up and took 'em all again!

Then upon the peace of my ducks and geese
He boldly did intrude
And with glazed eyes and opened mouths
They bore him with fortitude...
And a little bit of gratitude!

He jumped my giggling guinea-fowl!
He thrust his attentions upon
Twenty hysterical turkeys,
And a visiting migrant swan!
And the bantam thundered on!

He groped my fan-tail pigeon doves,
My lily-white Columbine,
And as I was lookin' at me budgerigar,
He jumped my parrot from behind!
And it was sittin' on me shoulder at the time!

But all of a sudden, with a gasp and a gulp,
He clapped his wings to his head!
He lay flat on his back with his feet in the air;
My bantam-cock was dead!
And the vultures circled overhead!

What a noble beast! What a champion cock!
What a way to live and die!
As I dug him a grave to protect his bones,
From those hungry buzzards in the sky,
The bantam opened up his eyes!

He gave me a wink, and a terrible grin,
The way that rapists do....
He said, "Do you see them silly daft buggers up there?
They'll be down in a minnit 'er two!
They'll be down in a minnit 'er two!"


-Sir Walter Scott

To the Lords of Convention 'twas Claverhouse spoke
Ere the King's crown go down, there are Crowns to be broke
So each Cavalier that loves honour and me
Let him follow the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee!

(Chorus): Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can
Come saddle my horses and call out my men
Unhook the west port and let us gae free
For it's up wi' the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee!

Dundee he is mounted, he rides up the street
The bells they ring backward, the drums they are beat
But the Provost (douce man!) said "Just e'en let it be!"
"For the town is well rid of that devil, Dundee!"

There are hills beyond Pentland, and lands beyond Forth
Be there lords in the South, there are chiefs in the North!
There are brave Duinnewassals three thousand times three
Will cry "Hey for the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee!"

Then awa' tae the hills, tae the lea, tae the rock,
Ere I own a usurper, I'll crouch with the fox!
And tremble, false Whigs, in the midst of your glee:
Ye hae no seen the last o' my bonnets....and me!



As I gang doon by Turra Market, Turra Market for t'fee
I fell in wi' a farmer chiel, by th' Barnyards O'Delgaty

Chorus: Luntin addie, turin addie, luntin addie turin-ee
Luntin lowrin' lowrin' lowrin', the barnyards o'Delgaty!

He promised me the aye best horse that iver I set my een upon
But when I gat t'his barnyard, there's naethin' there but skin and bone

The auld black horse sat on her rump, th' auld grey mare sat on her wime
And fer all I'd whup an' crack, they wouldna rise at yokin' time

When I gang doon tae Kirk on Sunday, many's th' bonny lass I see
Sittin' by her father's side, winkin' o'er th' pews at me!

Oh I can drink and no be drunk, and I can fecht an' no be slaun,
And I can lie wi' another man's lass and still be welcome tae my own!

Noo me cannle is brunt oot, me snotter's fairly on the wane,
Fare-ye-weel ye Barnyards: Ye'll niver catch me here again!



Hie upon Highlands, and laigh upon Tay,
Bonnie George Campbell rode out on a day
Saddled and bridled and gallant rode he,
Hame cam his guid horse, but niver cam he!

Saddled and booted and bridled rode he
A plume tae his helmet, a sword at his knee,
But toom cam his saddle, all bluidy tae see,
Hame cam his guid horse, but niver cam he!

Doon cam his auld mithir, greetin' fu' sair,
Oot cam his bonnie wife, rievin' her hair,
"My meadows lie green, and my corn is unshorn,
My barn is tae big, and my babe is unborn!"

(repeat verse 1)


-The Kipper Family
recorded on "The Kipper Family-Fresh Yesterday"

(Written by George Kipper, who is Mr. Kipper's uncle, as
far as we know......)

As I walked down to the village hall
I met Charlie leanin' on the wall
"Why are you standin' out here, Char-lee?"
"Cause I am bored of the dance!" said he!

CHORUS: Dance! Dance! What -ever- do they see?
In prancin' round all the time, said he
I'll leave them all to do it without me
For I am bored of the dance, said he!

I come to the dance with my girl, he said
I told her that I'd rather go to bed,
Oh yes I'm sure you would, said she,
But first you'll come and dance with me!

She said, You'll come and dance right now!
But I weren't list'nin' when the caller told us how
They "cast left," but "right" I went
They danced on, but I ended in the "Gents'!"

I drank with the Morris-men, James and John,
They drank with me as the dance went on and on,
We drank and we drank till it all went black.
It's hard to dance when you're lyin' on your back!

Oh, how she danced on the night they were wed
She danced, he drank, and then they went to bed
I'm afraid there's no more story to be told
She was too hot, and he was out cold!



I am a little beggar-man, a beggin' I have been
I been three-score or more in this little Isle of green,
And I'm known from the Liffey, down to Segume,
And I'm known by the name of old Johnny Dhu!
Of all the things a-goin', sure the beggin' is the best
When an old man is tired he can sit down and rest
Beggin' for his dinner, he has nothin' else to do
Than to lie around his parlor on his old rig-a-doo!

I slept in a barn down at Currabawn
A wet night came on and I slept till the dawn
With holes in the roof, and the rain a-comin' thru
And the rats and the cats, they was playin' peek-a-boo!
When who should awaken, but the woman of the house,
With her white spotty apron and her calico blouse
She became frightened, and I said "Boo!
Arrah! Don't be afraid, ma'am, it's only Johnny Dhu!"

I met a little flaxey-haired girl one day,
"Good mornin' little flaxey-haired girl," I did say;
"Well, good mornin' little beggar-man, and how do y'do?
Wi' your rags and your tags and your old rig-a-doo?"
I'll buy a pair of buckles, and a collar and a tie,
And a nice young lady I will fetch, by and by,
Buy a pair of stockings and I'll color them blue
And an old fashioned lady I will make of you!

Over the road with me pack on me back
Over the fields wi' me great heavy sack!
With holes in me shoes, and the toes a-peekin' thru
Singin' skin-a-ma-rink-a-doodle-dum for old Johnny Dhu!
I must be goin' t'bed, for it's gettin' late at night
And the fires all banked, and out goes the light
Now you've heard the story of me old rig-a-doo,
It's goodbye and God be with ya, says old Johnny Dhu!

(Note: the melody is known also as "The Little Red-Haired Boy")



I was born on a Dublin street where the Royal drums do beat
And the loving English feet they tramped all over us
And each and every night when me father'd come home tight
He'd invite the neighbors outside with this chorus.

Chorus: Oh, come out you black and tans
Come out and fight me like a man
Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders
Tell them how the IRA made you run like hell away
From the green and lovely lanes in Killashandra.

Come let me hear you tell how you slammed the great Pernell
When you fought them well and truely persecuted
Where are the smears and jeers that you bravely let us hear
When our heros of sixteen were executed.

Come tell us how you slew those brave arabs two by two
Like the zulu's they had spears and bows and arrows
How you bravely slew each one with your sixteen pounder gun
And you frightened them poor natives to their marrow.

The day is coming fast and the time is here at last
When each yoeman will be cast aside before us
And if there be a need sure my kids will sing God speed
With a verse of two of Steven Beehan's chorus.


-Richard Farina
(c) copyright 1967 M. Witmark & Sons

Now is the time for your loving, dear, and time for your company.
Now that the light of reason fails, and fires burn on the sea;
Now in this age of confusion I have need of your company.

For I am a wild and lonely child, and the son of an angry man;
And now, with the high wars raging, I would offer you my hand!
For we are the children of darkness and the prey of a grim command.

It's once I was free to go roamin' in the wind of a springtime mind.
And once the clouds I sailed upon were sweet as lilac wine.
Then why have the breezes of summer, dear, been laced with a grim design?

And where was the will of my father when he raised his sword on high?
And where was my mother's wailing when our flags were justified?
And where will we take our pleasure when our bodies have been denied?

Now is the time for your loving, dear, and time for your company.
Now that the light of reason fails, and fires burn on the sea;
Now in this age of confusion I have need of your company.


copyright 1984 W. J. Bethancourt III
tune: "Same Old Man/Leatherwing Bat"

Hi said the Norn, sittin in the sand
once I talked to a great Grey Man
spun three times and said with a sigh
hadn't been for the Runes had his other eye!

Chorus: hi diddle i diddle i day
hi diddle i diddle i diddle ay
hi di diddle i diddle i day
fol the dink a dum diddle do di day

Hi said the Lady, dressed in green
prettiest thing I've ever seen
she went down underneath the hill
and came back out of her own free will

Brian Boru, on Irish ground
walked three times the Island round
Norsemen came lookin for a fight
just another Irish Saturday night!

Hi said Lugh on the banquest night
a poet and a player and a good wheelwright
a harper and a warrior and none the least:
a Druid and he got in to the Feast!

Harold Haardrada's face was red!
Came to Britain and he wound up dead
Stamford Bridge is where he's found
got six feet of English ground

the Legion with it's Eagles bright
marched into the Pictish night
met them there upon the sand
gave em up to the Wicker Man!

eight-legged steed and hound of Hel
the one-eyed Man, he loves ya well
fire burn and fire spark
are you then feared of the dark?

The Circle forms, the Circle flows
the Circle goes where no man knows
Hail to the Lady, one in three:
Present is Past and Past is Me!

Rhiannon's Birds are still in flight
all thru the Day all thru the Night
Hail to the Lady, one in Three
Present is Past and Past is Thee!

Hi said the Lady dressed in white
sang the Day and sang the Night
sang the Land and sang the Sea
sang the Song, and then sang Me!

(extra verses) Salt and oil and mirror bright
fire and fleet and candlelight
by fin and feather, leaf and tree,
fill the cup and blessed be!

From the misty crystal sea
came the Lady to the lea
Sword and Roses in Her Hand
spread their seeds thruout the Land

Came the Stag from oaken wood
saw the Lady where she stood
by the fire burning bright
came to know his heart's delight!

(end of extra verses)

By Sword and Harp, and Irish Hound
Blessed Be: the Day I've found
Hail to the Lady, one in Three
Present is Past and Past is WE

By Oak and Ash and Holy Thorn
Blessed be the Day you're born!
Fire burn and fire bright
walk in safety thru the night


-Gwydion PenDerwyn
copyright probably to Nemeton

In the mountains of Cambria, by Rhymney's bright stream
I have oft slept in heather, and dreamed a bright Dream
No mortal could wake me, nor see what I've seen
No landscape could ever compare.

'Twas the Land of my Fathers, unfettered, and free
Ere the time that the Saxon swept over the Sea
When mistletoe grew 'neath the shining Oak Tree
No landscape could ever compare!

(Chorus): Dreaming of Prydein, asleep on a hill
When I awaken, will you be there still?
Oh, Island of Poets, my dreams you can fill
But never the long waking hours.

Mighty Poets and Warriors traversed every road
Leaving stories and legends wherever they strode
Their pasts are recalled in the humblest abode
In tales of the sunnier days.


Now my story is ended, my song is all gone
I have slept thru the evening, and into the dawn
Yet still, I remember your Face, Albion,
And your older, and much wiser ways!


-Richard Farina
(c) copyright 1967 Music Publishers Holding Corp.

It's hi, ho, hey, I am the bold marauder!
It's hi, ho, hey, I am the white destroyer!

For I will buy you silver and gold and I will bring you treasure
And I will bring a widowing flag and I will be your lover
And I will show you grotto and cave and sacrificial altar
And I will show you blood on the stone and I will be your mentor
And night will be our darling and fear will be our name

It's hi, ho, hey, I am the bold marauder!
It's hi, ho, hey, I am the white destroyer!

For I will take you out by the hand and lead you to the hunter
And I will show you thunder and steel and I will be your teacher
And we will dress in helmet and sword, and dip our tongues in slaughter

And we will sing a warrior's song and lift the praise of murder
And Christ will be our darling and fear will be our name

It's hi, ho, hey, I am the bold marauder!
It's hi, ho, hey, I am the white destroyer!

For I will sour the winds on high and I will soil the rivers
And I will burn the grain in the fields and I will be your mother
And I will go to ravage and kill and I will go to plunder
And I will take a Fury to wife and I will be your father
And Death will be our darling and fear will be our name

It's hi, ho, hey, I am the bold marauder!
It's hi, ho, hey, I am the white destroyer!



In a neat little town they call Belfast
Apprentice to trade I was bound
And many an hours sweet happiness
Have I spent in that neat little town

A sad misfortune came over me
Which caused me to stray from the land
Far away from me friends and relations
Betrayed by the black velvet band.

Chorus: Her eyes they shone like diamonds
I thought her the queen of the land
And her hair hung over her shoulders
Tied up with a black velvet band.

I took a stroll down Broadway
Meaning not long for to stay
When who should I meet but this pretty fair maid
Come a traipsing along the highway

She was both rare and handsome
Her neck it was just like a swan
And her hair hung over her shoulder
Tied up with a black velvet band.

I took a stroll with this pretty fair maid
And a gentleman passing us by
Well, I knew she meant the doing of him
By the look in her roguish black eye

A gold watch she took from his pocket
And placed it right into me hand
And the very first thing that I said was
Bad Cess to the black velvet band.

Before the judge and the jury
Next morning I had to appear
The judge he said to me young man
Your case it is proven clear

We'll give you seven years penal servitude
To be spent very far from the land
Far away from your friends and relations
Betrayed by the black velvet band.

So come all you jolly young fellows
A warning take by me
When you are out on the town me lad
Beware of the pretty colleen

She'll feed you with strong drink me lad
Till you are unable to stand
And the very first thing that you'll know is
You've landed in Van Dieman's land.


(The "clean" version)
-Traditional Scots

CHORUS: Wha' do ya, lassie? and wha' do y'noo?
I'm the man what did y'last, lass, I canna do y'noo!

Oh the Ball, the Ball of Ballyknure (Kirriemuir)
Where your wife, and my wife, were doin' it on the floor!

There was doin's in the hallway, doin's on the stairs,
It was the biggest doin' there had been for years and years!

There was doin's on the sofa, there was doin's in the chair,
And when they found the trampoline, there was doin's in the air!

Several lusty wenches gathered round the door
And tripped the men as they came thru, but beat 'em to the floor!

John the Blacksmith he was there, he wouldna play the game
He did a lassie seven times, but wouldna see her hame!

Oh, the village postman he was there, but he had the Pox
He couldna' do the ladies so he did the letter-box!

The village economist, he was there, his slide rule in his hand,
Figuring out exactly when supply would meet demand.

Guid old Jock McNorris took his partner by the arm,
And grinned, and said "Another "do" won't do us any harm!"

The village pervert he was there, scratchin' at his crotch
But no one minded him at all, he was only there to watch!

The village Masochist, he was there, beggin' for some blows
The Sadist merely looked at him, and softly answered "No!"

Four and twenty virgins went down to Inverness
And when the Ball was over, there were four and twenty less!

The Queen of England she was there, backed against the wall
"Put yer money on the table, boys, I'm going ta do you all!"

And when the Ball was over, everyone confessed
The music it was wonderful, but the "doin's" were the best!



Here I am from Paddy's land, a land of high renown
I broke the hearts of all the girls from miles of Keady town
And when they hear that I'm awa' they raise a hullaballoo
When they hear about the handsome lad they call O'Donoghue.

Chorus: For I'm the boy to please her and I'm the boy to tease her
And I'm the boy to squeeze her and I'll tell you what I'll do
I'll court her like an Irishman
With me brogue and blarney too is me plan
With me rollikin, swollikin, gollikin, wollikin, bold O'Donoghue.

I wish me love was a red red rose grown on yon garden wall
And me to be a dew drop and upon her brow I'd fall
Perhaps now she might think of me as a rather heavy dew
Nor more she'd love the handsome lad they call O'Donoghue.

They say that Queen Victoria has a daughter fine and grand
Perhaps she'd take it into her head to marry an Irishman
And if I could only get the chance to have a word or two
Perhaps she'd take a notion to the bold O'Donoghue.


27 July, 1689

Where hae ye been sae braw, lad?
Where hae ye been sae brankie-o?
Where hae ye been sae braw lad?
Cam' ye by Killiecrankie-o?

Chorus: An ye had been where I had been
Ye wad na been sae cantie-o
An ye had seen what I had seen
On the braes of Killiecrankie-o!

I fought at land, I fought at sea,
At home I fought my Auntie-o;
But I met the devil, and Dundee,
On the braes of Killiecrankie-o!

The bold Pictur fell in a furr,
And Clavers got a clankie-o,
Or had I fed an Atholl gled,
On the braes of Killiecrankie-o!

Oh fie, MacKay, what gart ye lie
I' the bush ayont the brankie-o
Ye'd better kiss King Willie's loof,
Than come tae Killiecrankie-o!

It's nae shame, it's nae shame,
It's nae shame t'shank ye-o
There's sour slaes on Atholl braes,
And the De'il at Killiecrankie-o!



'Tis of a brave young highwayman a story I will tell
His name was Willie Brennan and in Ireland he did dwell
T'was up on Killworth mountain he commenced his wild career
And many a wealthy nobleman before him shook with fear

CHORUS: And it's Brennan on the moor; Brennan on the moor,
Bold, brave and undaunted stood young Brennan on the moor!

One day upon the highway, as Willie he went down,
He spied the Mayor of Cashell, a mile outside the town
The Mayor he knew his features, and he said, "Young man!" said he
Your name is Willie Brennan, you must come along with me!

Now Brennan's wife had gone to town, provisions for to buy
When she saw her Willie taken, she began to weep and cry
Said: "Hand to me that ten-penny!" As soon as Willie spoke
She handed him a blunderbuss from underneath her cloak!

Now Brennan got his blunderbuss, the truth I will unfold
He made the Mayor to tremble, and he robbed him of his gold!
100 pounds were offered for his apprehension there,
But he, with horse and saddle to the mountains did repair

Now Brennan is an outlaw upon the mountain high
With cavalry and infantry to take him they did try
But he laughed at them and scorned at them, until it was said
By a false-hearted woman he was cruelly betrayed

They hanged Brennan at the crossroads, in chains he swung and dried
But still they say that in the night, some do see him ride
They see him with his blunderbuss, all in the midnite chill
Along, along the King's Highway rides Willie Brennan still!



Let grasses grow and waters flow in a free and easy way
But give me enough of the rare old stuff
That's made near Galway Bay
And policemen all from Donegal, Sligo and Leitrim too
We'll give them the slip and we'll take a sip
Of the real old mountain dew.

There's a neat little still at the foot of the hill
Where the smoke curls up to the sky
By a whiff of the smell you can plainly tell
That there's poteen boys close by.
For it fills the air with a perfume rare
And betwixt both me and you
As home we roll, we can drink a bowl
Or a bucketful of mountain dew.

Now learned men as use the pen
Have writ' the praises high
Of the rare poteen from Ireland green
Distilled from wheat and rye
Away with your pills, it'll cure all ills
Be ye pagan, Christian, or Jew
So take off your coat and grease your throat
With a bucket of the mountain dew.



There's a uniform that's hanging
In what's known as Father's room;
A uniform so simple in it's style.
It has no braid of gold or silk, no hat with feathered plumes,
Yet Mother has preserved it all the while.
One day she made me try it on, a wish of mine for years,
"In memory of your father, Sean." she said.
And when I put the Sam Browne on she was smiling with the tears
As she placed the broad black brimmer on my head.

CHORUS: It's just a broad black brimmer,
With its ribbons frayed and torn
By the careless whisk of many a mountain breeze.
An old trench coat that's battle stained and worn,
And breeches almost threadbare at the knees.
A Sam Browne belt, with a buckle big and strong,
A holster that's been empty many a day...but not for long!
And when men claim Ireland's freedom,
The one they'll choose to lead 'em
Will wear the broad black brimmer of the IRA.

It was the uniform been worn by my Father years ago
When he reached me mother's homestead on the run.
It was the uniform me Father wore in that little church below
When oul' Father Mac he blessed the pair as one.
And after Truce and Treaty and the parting of the ways
He wore it when he marched out with the rest.
And when they bore his body down the rugged heather braes
They placed the broad black brimmer on his breast.



I wish I was in Carrickfergus
only for nights in Ballygran
I would swim over the deepest ocean
only for nights in Ballygran.
But the sea is wide and I cannot swim over
and neither have I the wings to fly
I wish I had a handsome boatman
to ferry me over my love and I.

Now in Kilkenny, it is reported
on marble stones there as black as ink
With gold and silver I would support her
but I'll sing no more now till I get a drink
I'm drunk today, and I'm seldom sober
a handsome rover from town to town
Ah, but I'm sick now my days are numbered
come all you young men and lay me down.


(circa 1715/1745)

Cam ye o'er frae France? Cam y'doon by Lunnon?
Saw ye Geordie Whelps and his bonny woman?
Were ye at the place, ca'd the Kittle Hoosie
Saw ye Geordie's Grace ridin' on a Goosie?

Geordie he's a man, there's little doubt about it
He's done all he can; wha' can do without it?
Down there cam a blad, linkin' like my lordie;
He wad drive a trade at the loom of Geordie.....

Though the claith were bad, blithely may we niffer
Gin we git a wab, it makes little differ.
We hae tint our plaid, bonnet, belt and swordie,
Ha's and mailin's braid: but we hae a Geordie!

Jocky's gone tae France, and Montgomery's lady;
There they'll learn tae dance: Madam are ye ready?
They'll be back belyve, belted, brisk and lordly;
Brawly may they thrive tae dance a jig w'Geordie....

Hey for Sandy Don! Hey for Cockalorum!
Hey for Bobbing John, and his Highland quorum!
Mony a sword and lance swings at Highland hurdie
How they'll skip and dance ower the bum of Geordie....!


-Andy Stewart

Prepare you sweet flowers, for winter advances
And drink well the sunlight that touches your form
Draw strength from the Earth, and repay her with beauty
For the dark days are comin', oh, and they'll do y'harm

CHORUS: When the chill eastern winds replace summer breezes
And the long summer days are remembered no more
Then you'll know how it feels when a woman's love changes
When at last she has told you she loves you no more

I saw her today when she walked with her new love
In all the fine places that we'd walked before
They kissed by the rocks where she told me she loved me
And soon she'll be using those same words once more

There's none that could blame me for wanting her beauty
But it lies like a snowflake in the hands of a child
When the warmth of my love tried to reach out and hold her
It's then she was gone, to prove she's still wild


(Molly Malone)

In Dublin's fair city where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheels her wheel barrow
through the streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive alive-o.

Chorus: Alive alive-o, alive alive-o
Crying cockles and mussels alive alive-o.

She was a fishmonger but sure 'twas no wonder
For so were her Father and Mother before
And they both wheeled their barrow
through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive alive-o.

She died of a fever and no one could save her
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone
But her ghost wheels her barrow
through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive alive-o.


-Christy Moore

Over in McCann's there's a grand type of dance band a'playin'
And they're spinning out the continental ceilidh
They're comin' in their cars from the bars Over in Leister and Killane
Just to hear the famous Gunter Reynolds playing
Out the star of Munster with Hans O'Donahue
Neatly rappin' out a tango on the spoons
Such commotion will act like a lotion on the struttin'
At the continental ceilidh tonight.

Wolfgang's playin' on the comb someone shouts at him: "go home!"
Klaus is playin' a slow air on the bodran
Quinn from Corofin his fiddle tucked beneath his chin
S-s-h-h He's goin' to play the "Bogs of Oranmore" now
An old fashioned lady begins to sing a song
Ah, lads, a bit of order over there
Clarinbridge for the chowder keep your powder dry
At the continental ceilidh tonight.

Ciaran closes his eye's pretends he's in disguise
When he sees an old flame comin over
He's singing for the Swedes in their tweeds
Doin' all he can to please
The night's at such a delicate stage
Later on he'll give an audience to one of them or two
He'll sing the Dyin' Swan to touch their feelin's
Tonight's his night and tomorrow night will be just the same.

Ada let me out to the bar where the boys are goin' far
And they're spinnin' out the continental ceili
Never mind the liquor the music's in my soul
So long as I can hear the band a'playin'
The pipes and the flutes and the fiddles are in tune
Whoo, I'd love to meet a European girl
Ada now me head is goin' light and the band is playin' tight
At the continental ceilidh tonight.

All the publicans are there it's like a hirin' fair
Tryin' to figure out how much McCann is makin'
To keep their pubs outta stubs, they're lashin' out big subs
In a burst of fierce anticipation
Moguls from Mukhill are starin' at the till
Tryin' to get a low down on the line up
They'll be buyin' free porter for members of the band
At the continental ceilidh tonight.



Come single belle and beau, unto me pay attention
Don't ever fall in love, tis the devil's own invention
For once I fell in love with a maiden so bewitchin'
Miss Henrietta Bell down in Captain Kelly's Kitchen.

Chorus: With me too-rah-loo-rah-lay, me too-rah-loo-rah-laddie
With me too-rah-loo-rah-lay, me too-rah-loo-rah-laddie

At the age of seventeen I was 'prenticed to a grocer
Not far from Stephen's Green where Miss Henri used to go sir
Her manners were so fine, she set me heart a twitchin'
When she invited me to a hooley in the kitchen.

Sunday being the day we were to have the flare up
I dressed meself quite gay and I frizzed an oiled me hair up
The captain had no wife and he'd gone off a fishin'
So we kicked up the highlife below the stairs in the kitchen.

With me arms around her waist, she slyly hinted marriage
When to the door in haste came Captain Kelly's carriage
Her looks told me full well and they were not bewitchin'
That she wished I'd get to hell, or somewhere from the kitchen.

She flew up off my knees, full five feet up or higher
And over head and heels threw me slap into the fire!
My new Repealer's coat, that I bought from Mr. Stichen
With a thirty-shilling note, went to blazes in the kitchen.

I grieved to see my duds, all besmeared with smoke and ashes
When a tub of dirty suds right in my face she dashes
As I lay on the floor still the water she kept pitchin'
'Till the footman broke the door, and marched down into the

When the Captain came downstairs though he seen me situation
Despite all me prayers I was marched off to the station
For me they'd take no bail though to get home I was itchin'
And I had to tell the tale how I came in to the kitchen.

I said she did invite me, but she gave a flat denial
For assault she did indite me and I was sent for trial
She swore I'd robbed her house in spite of all her screechin'
And I got six months hard for me courtin' in the kitchen.



In an attic room in Dundee town
This poor old woman spread the tale around
She lived fifty years in her old top flat
With no other company than her old tom cat
Well, I hope so, say so, fifty years in an old top flat...

Chorus: Poor old woman, la-la-la-la-la-la-la....eh,eh.

Now one night they sat by the fire quite glum
When who do you think come down her lum (chimney)
I'm your fairy Godmother, have no fear
To grant three wishes they sent me here
Well, I hope so, say so, I'm your fairy Godmother have no fear...

The old woman looked down at her empty purse
I could always use some cash of course
The fairy waved her wand around
And lying on the floor was a thousand pounds
Well, I hope so, say so, the fairy waved her wand around...

Now a lovely face and a figure divine
For just one night I wish were mine
The fairy says I'll have a go
She made her look like Bridgette Bardot
Well, I hope so, say so, the fairy says I'll have a go...

This lovely girl by the fire she sat
She turned her attention to the old tom cat
He's my only love and here's my plan
Tonight change the cat into a handsome man
Well, I hope so, say so, he's my only love and here's my plan...

This handsome man at last drew near
And her whispered softly in her ear
The night is young but you'll regret
the day you sent me to the vet...!!!


(circa 1715/1745)

Donald's gane up the hill hard and hungry,
Donald's come doon th' hill, wild and angry!
Donald will clear the gouk's nest cleverly;
Here's to the King and Donald MacGillavry!
Come like a weighbauk, Donald MacGillavry!
Come like a weighbauk, Donald MacGillavry!
Balance them fair, and balance them cleverly!
Off wi' the counterfeit, Donald MacGillavry!

Donald's run o'er the hill but wi' his tether, man,
As he were wud, or stang'd wi'an ether, man,
When he comes back, there's some will look merrily!
Here's t'King James and Donald MacGillavry!
Come like a weaver, Donald MacGillavry!
Come like a weaver, Donald MacGillavry!
Pack on your back, and elwand sae cleverly;
Gi' them full measure. my Donald MacGillavry!

Donald has foughten wi' rief and wi' rougery;
Donald has dinner'd wi' banes and beggary,
Better it were for Whigs and Whiggery:
Meetin' the Devil, than Donald MacGillavry!
Come like a tailor, Donald MacGillavry!
Come like a tailor, Donald MacGillavry!
Push about, in and out, thimble them cleverly!
Here's tae King James and Donald MacGillavry!

Donald's the callan that brooks nae tangleness;
Whigging and prigging, and a' newfangledness;
They maun be gane; he winna be baukit, man;
He maun hae Justice, or, faith, he'll take it, man!
Come like a cobbler, Donald MacGillavry!
Come like a cobbler, Donald MacGillavry!
Beat them, and bore them, and lingel them cleverly!
Up wi' King James, and Donald MacGillavry!

Donald was mumpit wi' mirds and mockery,
Donald was blinded wi' blads o'property;
Arles ran high, but makin's were naethin', man!
Lord, how Donald is flyin' and frettin', man!
Come like the devil, Donald MacGillavry!
Come like the devil, Donald MacGillavry!
Skelp them and scaud them that proved sae unbritherly!
Up wi' King James and Donald MacGillavry!



Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling,
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the roses falling,
It's you, it's you must go, and I must bide!
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
Oh, come ye back, in sunshine or in shadow
Oh, Danny boy, oh, Danny boy, I love you so!

And if you come when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.
And I shall hear, tho soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warmer, sweeter be
If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me
I'll sleep in peace, until you come to me!


(Tune: "Dublin City")

As I walked out of Chester city
At the late hour of the night
Who should I see but a fair young maiden
Washing her clothes by the clear moonlight

CHORUS: Madam, I'm a darlin', a die-ro-dither-o
Madam, I'm a darlin', a die-ro-day

First she washed and then she squeezed them
And then she hung them out to dry
And then she folded up her arms saying
O what a fair young girl am I

O, going to the well to fetch some water
Fetching it back to make some cheese
She fell under and I fell over
And all the game was above her knee

Madam I will tie your garter,
I will tie it above your knee
And if you like I'll tie it up farther
'Cause madam I'm a die-row-day

Have you ever heard of cups and saucers
Rattling round an old tin can
have you ever heard of a fair young girl
Married to an ugly grey old man

Madam you may have the gold and silver
Madam you may have the tracts of land
You may have ships all on the ocean
But what you need now is a canny young man


-Traditional (?)
Recorded by Andy M. Stewart "Dublin Lady" Green Linnet CSIF 1083

In the year '98, when our troubles were great
It was treason to be a Milesian.
And the black-whiskers said we would never forget
And our history shows they were Hessians.
And in these troubled times, it was a great crime
And martyrdom never was riper
Near the town of Glenshee, not an acre from Meath,
Lived one Denny Burns, the Piper!

Neither weddin' nor wake would be worth a shake
If Denny was first not invited.
For at squeezin' the bag, or emptyin' the keg,
He astonished as well as delighted!
But in these times Denny could not earn a penny,
Martial Law had him stung like a viper!
And it kept him within till the bones of his skin
Grinned thru the rags of the piper!

Now one day it did dawn, as Denny crept home,
Back from a fair at Lethangin,
When what should he see, from the branch of a tree,
But the corpse of a Hessian, there hangin'!
Says Denny, "These rogues have got boots, I've no brogues!"
He took hold of the boots wi' a griper,
And the boots were so tight, and he pulled with such might,
Legs and all come away with the piper!

Ah, then Denny did run for fear of bein' hung
Til he came to Tim Haley's cabin.
Says Tim from within, "I can't let ye in!
Ye'll be shot if you're caught out there rappin'!"
So he went to the shed where the cow was in bed,
He began with a whisper to wipe her,
And they lay down together, in seven foot of heather,
And the cow took to huggin' the piper!

Well the day it wore on, and Denny did yawn,
And he stripped off the boots from the Hessian!
And the legs, for the law, he just left in the straw,
And he slipped home with his new possessions!
Now breakfast bein' done, Tim sent his young son
To get Denny up like a lamplighter,
And the legs there he saw; he flew up like a jackdaw!
And said "Daddy, the cow's et the piper!"

Ah, bad luck to that beast, she's no musical taste!
To eat such a jolly old chanter!
Ah, faugh! We'll evict! Take a lump of a stick!
Drive her off, down the road and we'll canter!
Well the neighbors were called, Mrs. Kennedy bawled,
She began for to humbug and jiper,
And in sorrow they met, and their whistles they wet,
And like devils, lamented the piper!

And the cow she was drove a mile or two off,
And they came to a fair at Killaley.
And there she was sold for four guineas of gold
To the clerk of the parish, John Daley.
And they went to the tent where the pennies were spent,
Tim bein' a jolly old swiper,
And who should be there, playin' a rake-sickal tear,
Just your bold Denny Burns, the piper!

Ah, then Tim give a jolt like a half-drunken colt,
And he stares at the piper like a gammick!
I thought, by the Powers, for the last sev'ral hours,
You were playin' in the old cow's stomach!
Well when Denny observed that the Hessian's been served
Began just to humbug and jiper,
Oh, in grandeur they met, and their whistles they wet,
And like devils they danced round the piper!


-Tommy Makem

What did I have said the fine old woman
What did I have this proud old woman did say
I had four green fields, each one was a jewel
But strangers came they tried to take them from me
I had fine strong sons they fought to save my jewels
They fought and they died, and that was my grief said she.

Long time ago, said the fine old woman
Long time ago this proud old woman did say
There was war and death, plundering and killing
My people starved by mountain, valley, and sea
And their wailing cried, they reached the very heavens
And my four green fields ran red with their blood said she.

What have I now? said the fine old woman
What have I now? This proud old woman did say
I have four green fields one of them's in bondage
In strangers hands that tried to take it from me
But my sons they have sons, as brave as were their fathers
And my four green fields will bloom once again said she.



As down the glen one Easter morn
to a city fair rode I
There armed lines of marching men
in squadrons passed me by
No pipes did hum, no battle drum
did sound its loud tattoo
But the Angelus Bell o'er the Liffey swell
rang out in the Foggy Dew.

Right proudly high in Dublin town
they flung out the flag of war
'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky
than at Suvla or Sud El Bar
And from the plains of Royal Meath
strong men came hurrying through
While Britannia's huns with their great big guns
sailed in through the Foggy Dew.

Oh, the night fell black and the rifles crack
made "Perfidious Albion" reel
'Mid the leaden rail, seven tongues of flame
did shine o'er the lines of steel
By each shining blade, a prayer was said
that to Ireland her sons be true
And when morning broke still the war flag shook
out its fold in the Foggy Dew.

'Twas England bade our Wild Geese go
that small nations might be free
But their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves
or the fringe of the Great North Sea
Oh had they died by Pearse's side,
or had fought with Cathal Brugha
Their names we'd keep where the Fenians sleep,
'neath the shroud of the Foggy Dew.

But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell
rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that watertide
in the springtime of the year
While the world did gaze, with deep amaze,
at those fearless men, but few
Who bore the fight that Freedom's light
might shine through the Foggy Dew.

Ah, back through the glen I rode again,
and my heart with grief was sore
For I parted then with valiant men
whom I never shall see more
But to and fro in my dreams I go
and I'd kneel and pray for you
For slavery fled, O glorious dead,
when you fell in the Foggy Dew.



As I went a walking one evening so rare
To view the still waters and taste the salt air
I heard an old fisherman singing this song
Sayin', "Take me away boys, my time is not long.

CHORUS: Wrap me up in me oil skins and blankets
No more on the docks I'll be seen
Just tell me old shipmates, I'm takin' a trip mates
And I'll see you someday on fiddler's green."

Now fiddler's green is a place I've heard tell
Where fishermen go if they don't go to hell
Where the weather is fair and the dolphins do play
And the cold coast of Greenland is far far away.

Where the weather is fair and there's never a gale
Where the fish jump on board with a swish of their tail
You lie at your leisure there's no work to do
While the skipper's below makin' tea for the crew.

I don't need a harp nor a halo not me
Just give me a breeze and a good rollin' sea
I'll play me old squeeze box as we sail along
And the wind in the riggin' will sing me this song.



By a lonely prison wall I heard a young girl callin'
Michael they have taken you away
For you stole Trevelyn's corn
So the young might see the morn
Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay.

Chorus: Low lie the fields of Athenry,
Where once we watched the small free bird fly
Our love was on the wing, we had dreams and songs to sing
It's so lonely round the fields of Athenry.

By a lonely prison wall I heard a young man calling
Nothing matters, Mary, when you're free
Against the famine and the Crown
I rebelled they cut me down
Now you must raise our child with dignity.

By a lonely harbour wall she watched the last star falling
As that prison ship sailed out against the sky
For she'll live in hope and pray
For her love in Botany Bay
It's so lonely round the fields of Athenry.



Tim Finnigan lived on Walker Street
A gentle Irishman, mighty odd
He'd a beautiful brogue so rich and sweet
And to rise in the world he carried a hod
You see he'd sort of a tipplin' way
With a love for the liquor poor Tim was born
To help him on with his work each day
He'd a drop of the creatur every morn.

Chorus: Whack for the da' now dance to your partner
Round the floor your trotter's shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you
Lot's o' fun at Finnigan's wake.

One morning Tim was rather full
His head felt heavy which made him shake
He fell from the ladder and he broke his skull
So they carried him home his corpse to wake
They rolled him up in a nice clean sheet
They laid him out upon the bed
With a gallon of whiskey at his feet
And a bottle of porter at his head.

His friends assembled at the wake
And Mrs. Finnigan called for lunch
First they brought in tea and cake,
Then pipe tobacco and whiskey punch
Biddie O'Brien began to cry,
"Such a nice clean corpse did you ever see
Aye Tim, mavourneen, why did ya die?"
"Ah, hold your gob!" says Paddie McGee.

Then Biddie O'Connor took up the job
"Oh, Biddie," says she, "You're wrong I'm sure."
Biddie gave her a belt in the gob
And she left her sprawlin' on the floor
Then the war did soon engage
Twas woman to woman and man to man
Shillelagh-law was all the rage
And the row and eruption soon began.

Then Micky Maloney raised his head
When a noggin of whiskey flew at him
It missed him fallin' on the bed
The liquor scattered over Tim
Tom revives see how he rises
Timothy risin' from the bed
Sayin' "Whirl your whiskey round like blazes!
Thanum an Diall! Did you think I'm dead?"


-Patrick J. McCall ca. 1890
Melody dates from pre-1500's

Lift Mac Cahir Og your face, brooding o'er the old disgrace
That black FitzWilliam stormed your place, and drove you to the Fern
Grey said victory was sure, soon the firebrand he'd secure
Until he met at Glenmalure: Feach Mac Hugh O'Byrne!

CHORUS: Curse and swear, Lord Kildare! Feach will do what Feagh will
Now FitzWilliam, have a care! Fallen is your star, low!
Up with halberd, out with sword! On we go, for by the Lord,
Feach Mac Hugh has given his word: "Follow me up to Carlow!"

See the swords of Glen Imayle, flashing o'er the English Pale!
See all the children of the Gael beneath O'Byrne's banners!
Rooster of the fighting stock, would you let a Saxon cock
Crow out upon an Irish rock? Fly up and teach him manners!

From Tassagart to Clonmore flows a stream of Saxon gore
Och, great is Rory Og O'More at sending loons to Hades!
White is sick and Lane is fled, now for black FitzWilliam's head!
We'll send it over, dripping red, to Liza and her ladies!



If you ever go across the sea to Ireland
Then maybe at the closing of your day
You will sit and watch the moon rise over Claddagh
And see the sun go down on Galway Bay

Just to hear again the ripple of the trout stream
The women in the meadows making hay
And to sit beside a turf fire in the cabin
And watch the barefoot gosoons at their play.

For the breezes blowing over the seas from Ireland
Are perfumed by the heather as it blows
And the women in the uplands diggin' praties
Speak a language that the strangers do not know

For the strangers came and tried to teach us their way
They scorn'd us just for being what we are
But they might as well go chasing after moonbeams
Or light a penny candle from a star.

And if there is going to be a life hereafter
And somehow I am sure there's going to be
I well ask my God to let me make my heaven
In that dear land across the Irish sea.


-Wm. Butler Yeats

I went out to the hazel - wood
Because a fire was in my head
Cut and peeled a hazel - wand
Tied a berry to a thread
And when white moths were on the wing
And moth - white stars were flickering out
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout..........

I had but laid it on the bank
And gone to blow the fire a-flame
Something rustled in the air
Something called me by my name!
It had become a glimmering Girl
With apple - blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name, and ran
And vanished in the brightening air........

Though I am old, with wandering
Thru hilly lands, and hollow lands;
I'll find out where she has gone
To seek her lips, to take her hands-
And walk thru long green dappled grass;
To pluck 'til Time, and times are done:
The Silver Apples of the Moon;
The Golden Apples of the Sun...............


-Andy Stewart

G Bm C G
Slowly, slowly, walk the path,
G Em Am7 D7
And you might never stumble or fall
G Bm C G
Slowly, slowly walk the path,
G Am7 D7 G
And you might never fall in love at all

CHORUS: Golden, golden is her hair
Like the mornin' sun over the fields of corn.
Golden, golden, flows her love,
So sweet, and clean, and warm!

Lonely, lonely is the heart
That never another can call it's own
Lonely, lonely lies the part
That has to live all alone.

Wildly, wildly beats the heart
With a rush of love like a mountain stream
Wildly, wildly, play your part
As free as a wild bird's dream!


<end part 1 of 4>
<the end>

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