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Stefan's Florilegium


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SI-songbook2-art - 9/17/00

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 2 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 2 of 4>


There's a braw fine clan o' lads as ilka man should ken
They are de'ils at the fichtin, they hae clured a sicht o' men
They hae suppit muckle whiskey when to ceildh theu gang ben
The heilan men of braw Glenwhorple.

CHORUS: HEUGHT! Glenwhorple, Heilan' men,
Great strong whuskey-suckin' Heilan' men
They were hard-workin', hairy legged, Heilan' men,
Slainte mhor, Glenwhorple.

They were founded by McAdam who of all the men was first
He resided in Glen Eden and he pipit fit tae burst
Wi' a fig-leaf for a sporran and a perfect Heilan' thirst
Till he stole away the apple from Glenwhorple

When the waters o' the deluge drookit all the whole world o'er
The chieftain of the clan y'know his name was Sean McNoah
So a muckle boat he biggit and he sneckit up the door
And he sailed away from drooned Glenwhorple

McNoah sent a piper out to see if there was land
He came back wi' an empty whuskey bottle in each hand
But they couldna comprehend him, he was fu', ye understand
For he found a public house aboon the water

There was a jock named Joshua, a Sapper he by trade
He went awa' to Jericho aboon a muckle raid
And the walls they went a-tumblin', and with loot the lads were paid
For the sappin' and the minin' in Glenwhorple.

When wise King Solomon was ruler o'er the glen
He had a hundred pipers and a thousand fichtin' men
And ten thousand wives and concubines, for as I'm sure ye ken
He kept a pow'rful household in Glenwhorple

O there was a birkie bangster was the ruler o'er the clan
Well his name it was t'Wallace and he was a fichtin' man
And he went about the border and the Southron turned and ran
From the dingin' of the claymore in Glenwhorple

Many o' the clansmen went and left their heilan' home
They loaded up on ships, aboot the world t'roam
They were lookin' for a special place to call their very own
That's how (insert name) became Glenwhorple

O what a sight this morning wi' the clan all on parade
Wi' the claymore and the pipers and the braw Glenwhorple plaid
And the pipey almost sober, and the chieftain no' afraid
O' seein' tartan spiders in Glenwhorple



Eric Bogle

Well, how do you do, young Willie McBride?
Do you mind if I sit here down by your grave side
And rest for a while 'neath the warm summer sun
I've been working all day and I'm nearly done
I see by your grave stone you were only nineteen
When you joined the great fallen in nineteen sixteen
I hope you died well and I hope you died clean
Or, young Willie McBride, was is slow and obscene?

Chorus: Did they beat the drum slowly, did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the dead march as they lowered you down
And did the band play the last post and chorus
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest?

And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined
Although you died back in nineteen sixteen
In that faithful heart are you forever nineteen
Or are you a stranger without even a name
Enclosed and forever behind the glass frame
In an old photograph, torn and battered and stained
And faded to yellow in a brown leather frame.

The sun now it shines on the green fields of France
There's a warm summer breeze it makes the red poppies dance
And look how the sun shines from under the clouds
There's no gas, no barbed wire, there's no guns firing now
But here in this graveyard it's still no mans land
The countless white crosses stand mute in the sand
To mans blind indifference to his fellow man
To a whole generation that were butchered and damned.

Now young Willie McBride I can't help but wonder why
Do all those who lie here know why they died
And did they believe when they answered the cause
Did they really believe that this war would end wars
Well, the sorrows, the suffering, the glory, the pain
The killing and dying was all done in vain
For young Willie McBride it all happened again
And again, and again, and again, and again.



As I rode down to Galway town to seek for recreation
On the seventeenth of August me mind being elevated
There were multitudes assembled with their tickets at the station
Me eyes began to dazzle and I'm goin' to see the races.

Chorus: With your whack-fa-the-da-for-the-diddle-ee-iddle-day.

There were passengers from Limerick and passengers from Nenagh
And passengers from Dublin and sportsmen from Tipperary
There were passengers from Kerry, and all quarters of our nation
And our member, Mr. Hearst, for to join the Galway Blazers.

There were multitudes from Aran, and members from New Quay Shore
Boys from Connemara and the Claire unmarried maidens
There were people from Cork city, who were loyal, true and faithful;
Who brought home the Fenian prisoners from diverse foreign nations.

It's there you'll see confectioners with sugarsticks and dainties
The lozenges and oranges, the lemonade and raisins!
The gingerbread and spices to accomodate the ladies
And a big crubeen for thruppence to be pickin' while you're able.

It's there you'll see the gamblers, the thimbles and the garters
And the spotting Wheel of Fortune with the four and twenty quarters
There was others without scruple pelting wattles at poor Maggy
And her father well-contented and he lookin' at his daughter.

It's there you'll see the pipers and the fiddlers competing
The nimble footed dancers a-tripping over the daisies
There were others crying cigars and lights and bills for all the
With the colors of the jockeys and the prize and horses' ages.

It's there you'll see the jockeys and they're mounted out so stately
The pink, the blue, the orange, and green, the emblem of our nation
When the bell was rung for starting, all the horses seemed impatient
I thought they never stood on ground their speed was so amazing.

There was half a million people there from all denominations
The Catholic, the Protestant, the Jew, and Presbyterian
There was yet no animosity, no matter what persuasion
But "failte" and hospitality inducin' fresh acquaintance.



Come all brother tradesmen who travel along,
I pray, come and tell me where the trade is all gone
Long time have I travelled, and I cannot find none

CHORUS: And it's oh, the hard times of old England
In old England very hard times!

Provisions you buy at the shop, it is true
But if you've no money, there's none there for you
So what is a poor man, and his family to do?

You will go to the shop where you'll ask for a job
They'll answer you there with a shake and a nod
Well, that is enough to make a man turn and rob!

You will see the poor tradesmen a-walking the streets
From morning to night their employment to seek
And scarce do they have any shoes on their feet

Our soldiers and sailors have just come from war
And fighting for Queen and for Country this year
Come home to be starved, should have stayed where they were

And now to conclude and to finish my song
Let us hope that these hard times, they will not last long
I hope soon to have occasion to alter my song

And sing: Oh, the good times of old England
In old England, jolly good times!


-Author Unknown
-recorded by the Kingston Trio

(Intro): In the Tower of London, large as life,
The ghost of Anne Boleyn walks, they declare!
Poor Anne Boleyn was once King Henry's wife,
Until he made the Headsman bob her hair!
Ah yes, he did her long, long years ago!
And she comes back a night to tell him so!

(CHORUS): With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the Bloody Tower!
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the midnight hour!

Through the dusty corridors for miles and miles she goes
She often catches cold, poor thing, it's cold there when it blows
And it's awfully awfully awkward for the Queen to blow her nose
With her head tucked underneath her arm!


She's looking for King Henry and she'll give him what-for!
Gadzooks! She's awfully mad at him for having spilled her gore!
And just in case the Headsman wants to give her an encore...
She's got her head tucked underneath her arm!


Once she met King Henry, he was in the Canteen Bar,
He said "Are you Jane Seymor, Anne Bolyn or Katherine Parr?"
"How in Heaven's name am I to know just who you are?
With your head tucked underneath your arm !!!!!"

The Sentries think that it's a football that she carries in
And when they've had a few they shout: "Is Army going to win?"
They think that it's Red Grange instead of poor old Anne Boleyn
With her head tucked underneath her arm!

(Reprise Intro):

Sometimes Good King Henry gives a spread
For all his pals and gals, a ghastly crew!
The Headsman carves the joint, and cuts the bread,
Then in comes Anne Boleyn to queer the do!
She holds her head up with a wild war-whoop!
And Henry cries: "Don't drop it in the soup!"




Lyrics: Alfred Noyes
Melody: Phil Ochs

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding, riding, riding-
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn yard
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and
He whistled a tune to the window and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black eyed daughter, Bess, the landlord's daughter
Plaiting a red love-knot into her long black hair.

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight, watch for me by moonlight,
I will come to thee by moonlight, though Hell should bar the way."

He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching, marching, marching-
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn door.

They tied her up to attention, with many a sickening jest,
And they bound a musket beside her, with the barrel to her breast.
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead man
"Look for me by moonlight, watch for me by moonlight,
I will come to thee by moonlight, though Hell should bar the way."

"Look for me by moonlight." The hoof-beats ringing clear.
"Watch for me by moonlight." Were they deaf they did not hear?
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight, her musket shattered the
Shattered her breast in the moonlight, and warned him - with her death.

He turned, he spurred him westward; he did not know who stood
Bowed with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood.
Not 'til the dawn he heard it; his face grew gray to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter, the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love by moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him, and his rapier brandished high!
Blood red were his spurs in the golden noon, wine-red was his velvet
When they shot him down on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his

And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding, riding, riding-
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn door......



Fare thee well my lovely Dinah, a thousand times adieu
For we're going away from the holy ground and the girls we all love true
We will sail the salt seas over and we'll return for sure,
To see again the girls we love, and the holy ground once more

You're the girl I do adore!
And still I live in hopes to see
The holy ground once more

And now the storm is raging and we are far from shore
The poor old ship is tossing about and the rigging is all torn
And the secret of my mind my love, you're the girl I do adore
And still I live in hopes to see the holy ground once more

And now the storm is over and we are safe and well
We'll go into a public house and sit and drink our fill
We will drink strong ale and porter, and we'll make the rafters roar
And when our money is all spent we will go to sea once more



CHORUS: Ho ro, my nut brown maiden!
Hee ree, my nut brown maiden!
Ho ro, ro. maiden!
For she's the maid for me!

Her eye so mildly beamin' And since from thee I parted
Her look so frank and free A long and weary while
In wakin' and in dreamin' I wander, heavy hearted,
Is ever more with me! With longin' for thy smile

Oh, Mary, mild eyed Mary The face with kindness glowin'
By land or on the sea, The face that hides no guile
Though time and tide may vary, The light grace of thy goin'
My heart beats true to thee! The witchcraft of thy smile!

With thy fair face before me Mine eyes that never vary
How sweetly flew the hour From pointin' tae the glen
When all thy beauty o'er me Where blooms my Highland Mary
Came streamin' in its' power! Like wild rose 'neath the ben

And when with blossoms laden
Bright summer comes again,
I'll fetch my nut brown maiden
Down from the bonny glen!



I'll tell me ma when I go home
The boys won't leave the girls alone
They pulled my hair and they stole my comb
Well that's all right till I go home
She is handsome, she is pretty,
She is the belle of Belfast City
She is counting..one, two, three!
Please won't you tell me, who is she.

Albert Mooney says he loves her
All the boys are fighting for her
They knock at the door and they ring at the bell
Sayin', "Oh my true love, are you well?"
Out she comes as white as snow
Rings on her fingers, bells on her toes
Old Johnny Murray says she'll die
If she doesn't get the fellow with the rovin' eye.

Let the wind and the rain and the hail blow high
And the snow come tumblin' from the sky
She's as nice as apple pie,
She'll get her own lad by and by
When she gets a lad of her own,
She won't tell her ma when she comes home
Let them all come as they will
For it's Albert Mooney she loves still.

(Wall Flower)

Wall flower, wall flower, growing up so high
He's got the measles, he'll never ever die
We'll go to Annie Kelly's house, she has no relations
She will tick and tack and turn (her back)
And kiss the congregations.

(When I was Young)

When I was young I had no sense
I bought a fiddle for eighteen pence
The only tune that I could play
Was over the hills and very far away.

Chorus: So early in the morning, early in the morning
So early in the morning before the break of day.



Chorus: I'm a rover, seldom sober,
I'm a rover of high degree
For when I'm drinking I'm always thinking
How to gain my love's company.

Though the night be dark as dungeon
Not a star to be seen above
I will be guided without a stumble
Into the arms of my own true love

He stepped up to her bedroom window,
Kneeling gently upon a stone
He rapped at her bedroom window
"Darling dear, do you lie alone?

It's only me, your own true lover,
Open the door and let me in
For I have come on a long journey
And I'm near drenched to the skin!"

She opened the door with the greatest pleasure
She opened the door and she let him in
They both shook hands and embraced each other
Until the morning they lay as one.

The cocks were crawing the birds were whistling
The streams they ran free about the brae.
Remember lass, I'm a ploughboy laddie
And the farmer I must obey.

Now, my love, I must go and leave thee
And though the hills they are high above
But I will climb them with greater pleasure
Since I've been in the arms of my love.



At a cottage door one winters' night
As the snow lay on the ground
Stood a youthful Irish soldier boy
To the mountains he was bound
His mother stood beside him saying
You'll win my boy don't fear
With loving arms around his waist
She tied his bandolier.

Good bye, God bless you mother dear
I hope your heart won't pain
But pray to God that you should see
Your soldier boy again
And when I'm out in the firing line
It will be a source of joy
For you to know that you're remembering still
Your Irish Soldier boy.

And when the fighting it was o'er
And the flag of truce was raised
The leaders ordered fire to cease
All Ireland stood amazed
His comrades came to the cottage door
With a note from her pride and joy
With an aching heart she cried God be good
To her Irish soldier boy.

Good-bye, God bless you mother dear
I'm dying a death so grand
From wounds received in action
Trying to free my native land
I hope we'll meet in heaven above
In that land beyond the sky
Where you'll always be in company with
Your Irish soldier boy.



'Twas a morning in July, I was walking to Tipperary
When I heard a battle cry from the mountains over head
As I looked up in the sky I saw an Irish soldier laddie
He looked at me right fearlessly and said:

Chorus: Will ye stand in the band like a true Irish man,
And go and fight the forces of the crown?
Will ye march with O'Neill to an Irish battle field?
For tonight we go to free old Wexford town!

Said I to that soldier boy,"Won't you take me to your captain
T'would be my pride and joy for to march with you today.
My young brother fell in Cork and my son at Innes Carthay!"
Unto the noble captain I did say:

As we marched back from the field in the shadow of the evening
With our banners flying low to the memory of our dead
We returned unto our homes but without my soldier laddie
Yet I never will forget those words he said:



In the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from the coal quay of Cork
And we were sailin' away with a cargo of bricks
For the grand city hall in New York
We'd and elegant craft, it was rigged fore and aft
And oh, how the trade winds drove her
She had twenty three masts, and she stood several blasts
And they called her the Irish Rover.

Chorus: Fare thee well, my pretty little girl, I must sail away
Fare thee well, my pretty little girl, I must sail away.

There was Barney McGee from the Banks of the Leigh
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Johnny McGirk who was scared stiff of work
And a chap from West Meade named Malone
There was slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule
And fighting Bill Tracy from Dover
And your man, Mick McCann, from the Banks of the Bann
Was the skipper on the Irish Rover.

We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags
We had two million barrels of bone
We had three million bales of old nanny goat tails
We had four million barrels of stone
We had five million hogs and six million dogs
And seven million barrels of porter
We had eight million sides of old blind horses hides
In the hold of the Irish Rover.

We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out
And the ship lost her way in the fog
And the whole of the crew was reduced down to two
'Twas meself and the captain's old dog
Then the ship struck a rock! Oh, Lord, what a shock!
And nearly tumbled over
Turned nine times around and the poor old dog was drowned
I'm the last of the Irish Rover.


(Circa 1745)

Cope sent a challenge from Dunbar,
sayin' Charlie meet me an' y'daur,
An' I'll learn ye th' art of War,
if y'meet me in the mornin'!

(Chorus): Hi, Johnnie Cope, are y'waukin' yet?
And are your drums a beatin' yet?
If ye were waukin', I wad wait,
When y'come wi' yer carls in the mornin'!

When Charlie looked the letter on,
he drew his sword the scabbard from,
Come, follow me my merry men,
and we'll meet Johnnie Cope in the morning!

Now, Johnnie, be guid as yer word,
come let us try baith fire and sword,
And dinna flee like a frichted bird,
that's chased from it's nest in the morning!

When Johnnie Cope he heard of this,
He thoucht it wadna be amiss
Tae hold a horse in readiness,
Tae flee awa' in the mornin'!

Fie, now Johnnie, get up and run!
The Highland bagpipes mak' a din!
It's better tae sleep in a hale skin,
For it will be a bluidy mornin'!

When Johnnie Cope tae Dunbar cam,
They speired at him "Whaur are your men?"
"The de'il confound me gin I ken,
For I left them a' in the mornin'!"

Now, Johnnie, troth ye werena blate,
To cam wi' news of your ain defeat,
And leave your men in sic a strait,
Sae early in the mornin'!

"In Faith," quo Johnnie, "I got sae flegs
Wi' their claymores and philibegs!
Gin I face them again, de'il break my legs!
Sae I wish ye all good mornin'!"



I bought a wife in Edinburgh for a bawbee
And then I got a farthing back to buy tobacco wi'!

CHORUS: And wi' you, and wi' you, and wi' you my Jenny lass
I'll dance the buckles off my shoes wi' you my Jenny

Samson was a mighty man, and he fought wi' a cuddie's jaw
He fought a million battles wearin' crimson flannel drawers!

There was a man in Nineveh, and he was wondrous wise
He jumped into a hawthorn bush and scratched out both his eyes!
And when he saw his eyes were out, with all his might and main,
He jumped into the hawthorn bush, and scratched them in again!

Napoleon was an emperor, he ruled o'er land and sea,
He ruled o'er France and Germany, but he never ruled over me!

One Sunday I went walkin' and there I saw the Queen
Playin' at the football wi' the lads on Glascow Green!
The captain of the other side was scorin' in great style
The Queen she called a policeman, and had him thrown in jail!

Jenny is a bonny lass, she is a lass of mine
And I've never had a better lass, and I've had fifty-nine!



'Twas very early in the month of June
As I was sitting with my glass and spoon
A small bird sat on an ivy bunch
And the song he sang was the jug of punch.

Chorus: Too-rah-loo-rah-loo, Too-rah-loo-rah-lay
Too-rah-loo-rah-loo, Too-rah-loo-rah-lay
A small bird sat on an ivy bush
And the song he sang was the jug of punch.

If I were sick and very bad
And was not able to go or stand
I would not think it at all amiss
To pledge my shoes for a jug of punch.

What more diversion can a man desire
Than to sit him down by a snug coal fire
Upon his knee a pretty wench
And upon the table a jug of punch.

And when I'm dead and in my grave
No costly tomb stone will I have
I'll dig a grave both wide and deep
With a jug of punch at my head and feet.



There was Johnny McEldoo, and McGee, and me
And a coupla two or three, went on a spree one day.
We had a bob or two, which we knew how to blew
And the beer and whiskey flew and we all felt gay!
We visited McMann's, MacIllman's, Humpty Dan's,
We then went into Swann's our stomachs for to pack,
We ordered out a feed which indeed we did need
And we finished it with speed, but we still felt slack!

Johnny McEldoo turned red, white and blue,
And a plate of Irish stew he soon put out of sight
He shouted out "Encore!" with a roar for some more
Said he'd never felt before such a keen appetite
He ordered eggs and ham, bread and jam, what a cram!
But him we couldn't ram tho we tried our level best
For everything we brought, cold or hot, mattered not
It went down him like a shot, but he still stood the test!

He swallowed tripe and lard by the yard, we got scared
We thought it would go hard when the waiter brought the bill
We told him to give o'er, but he swore he could lower
Twice as much again and more before he had his fill
He nearly supped a trough full of broth, says McGrath:
"He'll devour the tablecloth if you don't hold him in!"
When the waiter brought the charge McEldoo felt so large
He began to scowl and barge and his blood went on fire!

He began to curse and swear, tear his hair in despair,
And to finish the affair called the shopman a liar!
The shopman he drew out and no doubt he did clout
McEldoo he kicked about like an old football!
He tattered all his clothes, broke his nose, I suppose
He'd have killed him with a few blows in no time at all!

McEldoo began to howl and to growl by my sowl
He threw an empty bowl at the shopkeeper's head
It struck poor Micky Finn, peeled the skin off his chin
And the ructions did begin, and we all fought and bled!
The peelers did arrive, man alive! Four or five,
At us they made a drive for us all to march away
We paid for all the mate that we ate, stood a trate,
And went home to reminate on the spree that day!



What's the news, what's the news, oh my bold Chevalier
With you long barrelled gun of the sea?
Say what wind from the south blows his messenger here
With a hymn of the dawn for the free
Goodly news, goodly news, do I bring youth of forth
Goodly news shall you hear, Bargy man
For the boys march at morn from the south to the north
Led by Kelly the boy from Killane.

Tell me who is that giant with gold curling hair
He who rides at the head of your band?
Seven feet is his height, with some inches to spare
And he looks like a king in command
Ah my lads that's the pride of the bold chevaliers
'Mong our greatest of heroes, a man!
Fling your beavers aloft and give three ringing cheers
For John Kelly, the boy from Killane.

Enniscorthy's in flames, and old Wexford is won
And the Barrow tomorrow we cross
On ahill o'er the town we have planted a gun
That will batter the gateway of Ross
All the Forth men and Bargy men march o'er the heath
With brave Harvey to lead on the van
But the foremost of all in the grim Gap of Death
Will be Kelly, the boy from Killane.

But the gold sun of freedom grew darkened at Ross
And it set by the Slaneys red waves
And poor Wexford stript naked hung high on a cross
And her heart pierce by traitors and slaves
Glory O! Glory O! to her brave sons who died
For the cause of long down-trodden man!
Glory O! to Mount Leinster's own darling and pride
Dauntless Kelly, the boy from Killane.


-Peter and Steve Jones
(c) copyright 1984, 1988 Peter & Steve Jones

Kilkelly, Ireland eighteen and sixty, my dear and loving son John:
Your good friend the schoolmaster Pat MacNamara
So good as to write these words down
Your brothers have all gone to find work in England
The house is so empty and sad
The crop of potatoes is sorely infected
A third to a half of them bad
And your sister Bridget and Patrick O'Donnell
Are going to get married in June
And your mother says not to work on the railroad
And be sure to come on home soon.

Kilkelly, Ireland eighteen and seventy, my dear and loving son John:
Hello to your Mrs. and to your four children
May they grow up healthy and strong
Michael has got in a wee bit of trouble
I suppose that he never will learn
Because of the dampness there's no turf to speak of
And now there's nothing to burn
Bridget is happy you named the child for her,
You know she's got six of her own
You say you've found work but you don't say what kind
And when will you be coming home?

Kilkelly, Ireland eighteen and eighty dear Michael and John my sons:
I'm sorry to give you the very sad news
That your dear old mother passed on
We buried her down at the church at Kilkelly
Your brothers and Bridget were there
You don't have to worry she died very quickly
Remember her in your prayers
And it's so good to hear that Michael's returning
With money he's sure to buy land
But the crop has been poor and people are selling
At any price that they can.

Kilkelly, Ireland eighteen and ninety my dear and loving son John:
I suppose that I must be close on to eighty
It's thirty years since you've been gone
Because of all the money you sent me
I'm still living out on my own
Michael has built himself a fine house
And Bridget's daughters are grown.
And thank you for sending your family picture
They're lovely young women and men
You say you might even come for a visit
What joy to see you again

Kilkelly, Ireland eighteen and ninety-two my dear brother John:
I'm sorry that I didn't write sooner
To tell you Father passed on
He was living with Bridget she said he was cheerful
And healthy right up to the end
You should have seen him playing with the grandchildren
Of Pat MacNamara, your friend
We buried him along side of Mother
Down at the Kilkelly church yard
He was a strong man, a feisty old man
Considering his life was so hard
And it's funny the way he kept talking about you
He called for you at the end.
Why don't you think about coming to visit
We'd love to see you again..........



The burn was big wi' spate
And there cam tumblein' doon,
Topsalterie, the half of a gate
An auld fish-hake, and a great muckle skate,
And a lum hat wantin' th' croon

The auld wife stood on th' bank,
As they gied swirlin' roon,
She took a guid look, and syne says she,
"There's food and there's firin' gaen tae th' sea,
And a lum hat wantin' th' croon!"

So she gruppit th' branch of a saugh,
And she kickit off ane of her shoon,
An' she stuck oot her fit, but it caught in the gate,
An' awa' she went wi' th' great muckle skate,
An' a lum hat wantin' th' croon!

She floated fu' many a mile,
Past cottage and village and toon,
She'd an awfu' time astride of the gate,
Though it seemed t'gree fine wi' th' great muckle skate,
And the lum hat wantin' th' croon!

A fisher was waukin' th' deck,
By the licht of his pipe and th' moon,
When he sees an auld body astride of a gate,
Come bobbin' along in the waves wi' a skate,
And a lum hat wantin' th' croon!

"There's a man overboard!" cries he,
"Ye hear?" quo she, "I'll droon!
A man overboard? It's a wife on a gate!
It's auld Mistress Mackintosh here wi' a skate,
And a lum hat wantin' th' croon!

Was she nippit tae death at th' Pole?
Has India bakit her broon?
I canna tell that, but whatever her fate,
I'll wager ye'll find t'was shared by a gate,
And a lum hat wantin' th' croon!

There's a moral attached tae my song:
On greed ye should aye gie a froon!
When ye think of the wife that was lost for a gate,
An auld fish hake and a great muckle skate,
And a lum hat wantin' th' croon!



Fare well to you my own true love
I am going far away
I am bound for California
And I know that I'll return some day.

Chorus: So fare thee well my own true love
For when I return united we will be
It's not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me
But my darling when I think of thee.

I have shipped on a Yankee sailing ship
Davy Crockett is her name
And Burgess was the captain of her
And they say she is a floating hell.

Oh the sun is on the harbor love
And I wish I could remain
For I know it well be a long, long time
Before I see you again.



By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond
Where me and my true love won't ever meet again
On the bonnie bonnie banks of Loch Lomond

CHORUS: Oh, you take the high road, and I'll take the low road
And I'll be in Scotland before you
And me and my true love won't ever meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond

'Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen
On the steep, steep side of Ben Lomond
Where in purple hue, the hieland hills we view
And the moon comin' out in the gloamin'.

The wee birdies sing, and the wild flowers spring
While in sunshine the waters are sleepin'
But the broken heart it kens nae second spring again
Tho' the woeful may cease from their greetin'


-Michael McCann (early 1800's)

In the town of Athy one Jeremy Lanigan
Battered away till he hadn't a pound
His Father he died and made him a man again
Left him a farm and ten acres of ground
He gave a grand party to friends and relations
Who did not forget him when come to the will
If you'll but listen I'll make your eyes glisten
At rows and ructions at Lanigan's Ball.

Chorus: Six long months I spent in Dublin,
Six long months doin' nothin' at all
Six long months I spent in Dublin
Learning to dance for Lanigan's Ball
I stepped out..I stepped in again,
I stepped out...I stepped in again
I stepped out..I stepped in again,
Learning to dance for Lanigan's Ball.

Myself to be sure got free invitations
For all the nice girls and boys I might ask
And just in a minute both friends and relations
Were dancing as merry as bees round a cask
There was lashing of punch and wine for the ladies
Potatoes and cakes there was bacon and tea
There were the Nolans, Dolans, O'Gradys
Courtin' the girls and dancing away.

They were doing all kinds of nonsensical polkas
All round the room in a whirligig
But Julia and I soon banished their nonsense
And tipped them a twist of a real Irish jig
Oh how that girl got mad on me
Danced till you'd think that the ceiling would fall
I spent three weeks at Brook's Academy
Learning to dance for Lanigan's Ball.

The boys were as merry, the girls all hearty
Dancing away in couples and groups
Till an accident happened young Terence McCarthy
He put his right leg through Miss Finerty's hoops
The creature she fainted and cried "Meelia murther"
Called for her brothers and gathered them all
Carmody swore that he'd go no further
Till he'd have satisfaction at Lanigan's Ball.

In the midst of the row Miss Kerrigan fainted
Her cheeks at the same time as red as a rose
Some of the boys decreed she was painted
She took a small drop too much I suppose
Her sweetheart Ned Morgan so powerful and able
When he saw his fair colleen stretched by the wall
He tore the left leg from under the table
And smashed all the dishes at Lanigan's Ball.

Boys, oh boys, 'tis then there was ructions
Myself got a kick from big Phelim McHugh
But soon I replied to his kind introduction
And kicked up a terrible hullabaloo
Ould Casey the piper was near being strangled
They squeezed up his pipes, bellows, chanters, and all
The girls in their ribbons, they all got entangled
And that put an end to Lanigan's Ball.



(Chorus) Lassie wi' the yellow coatie
Would y'wed a muirland Jockie?
Lassie wi' th' yellow coatie
Would y'busk and gang wi' me?

I have milk and meal in plenty Wi' my lassie and my doggie
I have kale and cakes fu' dainty O'er th' lea and thru the boggie
I've a but-an-ben fu' genty Nane on earth was e'er sae vogie
But I lack a lass like thee! Or as blythe as we will be!

Although my mailen be but sma' Haste ye, lassie, tae my bosom
And little gold I have t'shaw While the roses are in blossom!
I hae a heart without a flaw Time is precious; dinna lose them
An' I will gie it all t'thee! Flowers will fade, and sae shall ye

(Final Chorus) Lassie wi' the yellow coatie
Ah! Take pity on your Jockie!
Lassie wi' the yellow coatie
I'm in haste, and sae should ye!


-Andy Stewart
Phil Cunningham
recorded by Silly Wizard
"A Glint of Silver"
copyright 1986 Bracken Music Services

Am G Am7 C Dm Dm7 F F-G
She was in the flowery garden when first she caught my eye
Am G Am7 C Dm7 G
And I just a marching soldier; she smiled as I passed by
Dm Em Am C C Am Dm E
The flowers she held were fresh and fair, her lips were full and red
Am G C Am Dm7 G7 C
And as I passed that shady bower, these words to me she said

C G C Am
Last night we spoke of love
C Am Dm E
Now we're forced to part
Am G C Am
You leave to the sound of a marching drum
Dm7 G7 C
And the beat of a lover's heart

She was by the shore in the evening when next I saw my dear
Running barefoot by the water side, she called as I drew near
The sunlight glanced at the water's edge making fire of her auburn hair
My young heart danced at her parting words that hung in the evening air


She was on the Strand next morning when orders came to sail
And as we slipped our ropes away I watched her from the rail
She threw me a rose, which fell between us, and floated on the Bay
And as our ship pulled from the shore, I heard her call and say


Now the soldier's life won't suit me, sweet music is my trade
For I'd rather melt the hardest heart than pierce it with a blade
Let the time be short till I return to my home in the mountains high
And the loving girl who stole my heart with these words as I passed by



-James Hogg (1797)

Lock the door, Larriston, Lion of Linnesdale!
Lock the door, Larriston, Lowther comes on!
The Armstrongs are flyin', the widows are cryin'
Castleton is burning, and Oliver is gone!
Lock the door, Larriston, high in the weather gleam,
See how the Saxon plumes bob in the sky!
Yeoman and carbinier, billman and halbardier!
Fierce is the foray, and far is the cry!

Bewcastle brandishes high his bold scimitar,
Ridley is riding his fleet-footed grey!
Hedley and Howard there, Wandale and Windermere,
Lock the door, Larriston, hold them at bay!
Why dost thou smile, oh bold Elliot of Larriston?
Why does the joy-candle gleam in thine eye?
Thou bold border-ranger, beware of thy danger!
Thy foes are relentless, determined and nigh!

Elliot raised up his steel bonnet, and lookit out
His hand grasped the sword with a nervous embrace.
Oh welcome brave foemen, on earth there are no men
More gallant to meet in the fray or the chase!
Little know you of the hearts I have hidden here
Little know you of our moss-troopers' might!
Linhope and Sorbie true, Tundhope and Milburn too!
Gentle in manner, but lions in fight!

I have Mangerton, Oglvie, Raeburn and Netherbie,
Old Sim of Whitram, and all his array!
Come all Northumberland, Teasdale and Cumberland!
Here at the Breeker tower shall end the affray!
Scowled the broad sun over the links of green Liddesdale
Red as the beacon-light tipped he the wold
Many a bold martial eye mirror'd that morning sky!
Never more looked on his orbit of gold!

Shrill was the bugle's note, dreadful the warrior's shout,
Lances and halberds in splinters were torn
Helmet and halberd then braved the claymore in vain
Buckler and armet in shivers were torn!
See how they wane, the proud files of the Windermere
Howard, ah, woe to the hopes of the day!
Hear the wild welkin rend, while the Scots shouts ascend:
Elliot of Larriston! Elliot for aye!


-Tommy Makem
copyright 1967, 1969 Tiparm Music

Lord Nelson stood in pompous state, upon his pillar high
And down along O'Connell Street he cast a wicked eye
He thought how this barbaric race had fought the British Crown
Yet they were content to let him stay right there in Dublin town!

CHORUS: So remember Brave Lord Nelson, boys,
He has never known defeat
And for his reward they stuck him up
In the middle of O'Connell Street!

For many years, Lord Nelson stood, and no one seemed to care
He would squint at Dan O'Connell who was standin' right down there
He thought: 'The Irish love me or they wouldn't let me stay,
All except that band of blighters that they call the IRA!'

And then in nineteen sixty-six, on March the seventh day,
A bloody great explos-i-on made Lord Nelson rock and sway!
He crashed, and Dan O'Connell cried, in woeful misery:
'Now twice as many pidg-i-ons will come and s--- on me!'

CHORUS (final): So remember brave Lord Nelson, boys,
He has never known defeat!
And for his reward they blew him up
In the middle of O'Connell Street!



Lang have we parted been, lassie my dearie
Now we are met again, lassie lie near me

Near me, near me, lassie my dearie
Lang hast thou lain alane, lassie lie near me

All that I have endured, lassie my dearie
In your arms it is cured, lassie lie near me

Near me, near me, lassie my dearie
Lang hast thou lain alane, lassie lie near me

If in the spring we meet, lassie my dearie
All joy will be near me, lassie lie near me

Near me, near me, lassie my dearie
Lang hast thou lain alane, lassie lie near me



This ae nicht, this ae nicht,
Every nicht and a'
Fire and fleet and candleleet
And Christ receive thy soul

Alt. last line:
(And **** take thine all!)

When thou from here away have passed
To Whinny Muir thou com'st at last

If ever thou gavest hosen or shoon
Sit thee down and put them on

If hosen and shoon thou ne'er gavest nane
The winds will pick thee to the bare bane

From Whinny Muir when thou art passed
To Purgatory fire thou com'st at last

If ever thou gavest meat or drink
The fire will never make thee shrink

If meat or drink thou ne'er gavest nane
The fire will burn thee to the bare bane

From Purgatory fire when thou art passed
To Brigg 'O'Dread thou com'st at last

If ever thou gavest silver or gold
By God's right hand be taken in fold

If gold or silver thou ne'er gavest nane
Thou shalt fall till the stars be gane


-Gwyddion PenDderwyn, Amy Falkowitz, Ann Case, Len Rosenberg
recorded by Joe Bethancourt
"Celtic Circle Dance"

She danced on the water, and the wind was Her horn
The Lady laughed, and everything was born
And when She lit the sun and its' light gave Him birth
The Lord of the Dance first appeared on the Earth

(Chorus): Dance, dance, where ever you may be
I am the Lord of the Dance, you see!
I live in you, and you live in Me
And I lead you all in the Dance, said He!

I danced in the morning when the World was begun
I danced in the Moon and the Stars and the Sun
I was called from the Darkness by the Song of the Earth
I joined in the Song, and She gave Me the Birth!

I dance in the Circle when the flames leap up high
I dance in the Fire, and I never, ever, die
I dance in the waves of the bright summer sea
For I am the Lord of the wave's mystery

I sleep in the kernel, and I dance in the rain
I dance in the wind, and thru the waving grain
And when you cut me down, I care nothing for the pain;
In the Spring I'm the Lord of the Dance once again!

I dance at the Sabbat when you dance out the Spell
I dance and sing that everyone be well
And when the dancing's over do not think that I am gone
To live is to Dance! So I dance on, and on!

I see the Maidens laughing as they dance in the Sun
And I count the fruits of the Harvest, one by one
I know the Storm is coming, but the Grain is all stored
So I sing of the Dance of the Lady, and Her Lord:

The Horn of the Lady cast its' sound 'cross the Plain
The birds took the notes, and gave them back again
Till the sound of Her music was a Song in the sky
And to that Song there is only one reply:

The moon in her phases, and the tides of the sea
The movement of the Earth, and the Seasons that will be
Are the rhythm for the dancing, and a promise thru the years
That the Dance goes on thru all our joy, and tears

We dance ever slower as the leaves fall and spin
And the sound of the Horn is the wailing of the wind
The Earth is wrapped in stillness, and we move in a trance,
But we hold on fast to our faith in the Dance!

The sun is in the southland and the days grow chill
And the sound of the horn is fading on the hill
'Tis the horn of the Hunter, as he rides across the plain
And the Lady sleeps 'til the Spring comes again

The Sun is in the Southland and the days lengthen fast
And soon we will sing for the Winter that is past
Now we light the candles and rejoice as they burn
And we dance the Dance of the Sun's return!

They danced in the darkness and they danced in the night
They danced on the Earth, and everything was light
They danced out the Darkness and they danced in the Dawn
And the Day of that Dancing is still going on!

I gaze on the Heavens and I gaze on the Earth
And I feel the pain of dying, and re-birth
And I lift my head in gladness, and in praise
For the Dance of the Lord, and His Lady gay

I dance in the stars as they whirl throughout space
And I dance in the pulse of the veins in your face
No dance is too great, no dance is too small,
You can look anywhere, for I dance in them all!


-Padraic Colum
recorded by Theodore Bikel

My young love said to me: My mother won't mind
And my father won't slight you for your lack of kind
She put her arms 'round me; these words she did say:
It will not be long, love, 'til our wedding day!

Then she stepped away from me, and she moved thru the Faire
And so fondly I watched her move here and move there
At last she turned homeward, with one star awake
As the Swan in the evening moves over the lake.

Last night she came to me, my dead love came in
And so soft did she move that her feet made no din
She put her arms 'round me; these words she did say:
It will not be long, love, 'til our wedding day!



Oh, me name is MacNamara I'm the leader of the band
Although we're few in numbers we're the finest in the land
We play at wakes and weddings and at every fancy ball
And when we play at funerals we play the March From Saul

Chorus: Oh, the drums go bang and the cymbals clang
And the horns they blaze away
McCarthy pumps the old bassoon while I the pipes do play
And Hennessey Tennessee tootles the flute
And the music is something grand
A credit to old Ireland is MacNamara's band.

Right now we are rehearsin' for a very swell affair
The annual celebration - all the gentry will be there
When General Grant to Ireland came, he took me by the hand
Says he,"I never saw the likes of MacNamara's band."

(If You're Irish Come Into The Parlour)

If you're Irish, come into the parlour
There's a welcome there for you
If you're name is Timothy or Pat
As long as you come from Ireland
There's a welcome on the mat
If you come from the Mountains of Mourne
Or Killarney's lakes so blue
We'll sing you a song and we'll make a fuss
Whoever you are you're one of us
If you're Irish this is the place for you.

Oh, I wear a bunch of shamrocks and a uniform of green
And I am the funniest lookin' Swede that you have ever seen
There's O'Briens and Ryans and Sheehans and Meehans, they come from Ireland,
But by yimminy, I'm the only Swede in MacNamara's band.



(Tune: "No-man's Land," by Eric Bogle)
(Words: Unknown, but doubtless depraved individual)

[Note: The words were written by Bob Kanefsky. You can find the official words -
- and a pointer to the new parody CD it's been recorded on, called Roundworm --
on his web site
- Stefan - 9/14/00.]

Well, how are you doing, old Moggy the Cat?
I just noticed you lying where I almost sat.
Do you mind if I push you a bit to the side?
I've been walking all day on the road where you died.

You've been squashed like a butterfly pressed between glass:
Were you hit by a truck that was moving too fast?
Did he slam on the brakes as he saw you go past?
Or, Moggy the Cat, did he step on the gas?

CHORUS: Did he honk the horn loudly?
Did you stand your ground proudly?
Did a shadow fall o'er you as the truck mowed you down?
Did you die with a yowl and a big fuss?
Did the birds come and pick at your carcass?

The ground squirrels and mice all seem happy today,
The butterflies frolic and hummingbirds play.
A mockingbird sits there composing a dirge
'Till he finally yields to his scavenger urge.

The robins and sparrows all join in the feast
In their joyous relief that the terror has ceased.
And the birds dance around you, not sad in the least,
Like the Munchkins danced over the Witch of the East.


Old Moggy the Cat, I sure wish I knew why
You road-kills look so damned surprised when you die.
Did you think that some animal spirit survives?
Did you really believe that a cat has nine lives?

Well, if that is true, this is life Numbah Ten:
Getting ever more flat, spinning 'round now and then,
As the cars run you over again and again
And again and again and again and again!



-Thomas Payton, et. al.
(tune: "Betsy From Pike")

When I was a young girl (man) I used to like boys (girls),
I fondled their tights (bodies) and played with their toys (curls),
But me boy (girl) friend ran off with a salesman named Bruce,
You'd never get treatment like that from a Moose!

CHORUS: So it's Moose, Moose, I like a Moose,
I've never had anything quite like a Moose,
I've had many lovers, my life has been loose,
But I've never had anything quite like a Moose!

Now when I'm in need of a very good lay,
I go to me stables and gets me some hay,
I opens me window and spreads it around,
'Cause Moose always comes when there's hay on the ground!

Now I've made it with all kinds of beasties with hair,
I'd make it with snakes if their fangs were not there,
I've made it with walrus, two ducks and a goose,
But I've never had anything quite like a Moose!

Now gorillas are fine for a Saturday night,
And lions and tigers, they puts up a fight,
But it just ain't the same when you slams your caboose
As the feeling you gets when you humps with a Moose!

I've tried many beasties on land or on sea
I've even tried hump-backs that humped back on me!
Sharks are quite good, tho they're hard to pull loose
But on dry land there is nothing quite like a moose!

Woodchucks are all right except that they bite
And foxes and rabbits won't last thru the night!
Cows would be fun, but they're hard to seduce
But you never need worry should you find a moose!

Step in my study, and trophies you'll find
A black striped tiger and scruffy maned lion
You'll know the elephant by his ivory tooth
And the one that's a-winking, you know is the moose!

The lion succumbed to a thirty-ought-six
Machine guns and tigers I've proved do not mix
The elephant fell by a bomb with a fuse
But I won't tell a soul how I did in the moose!

I've found many women attracted to me
A few of them have had me over for tea
Some say that they love me when they're feeling loose
But I'd trade the world's women for one lovely moose!

The good Lord made Adam, and then He made Eve
Said He: "If you sin now, I'll ask you to leave!"
They left not because of Eve's forbidden fruit
But 'cause Adam decided the moose there were cute!

The English are said to like boars who've had corn
The Celtics just dream of the young Unicorn
The Germans, it's said, just need leather and rope
But give me a moose and I'll no longer mope!

Now I've broken the laws in this god-awful state
They've put me in prison and locked up the gate
They say that tomorrow I'll swing from a noose
But my last night I'll spend with a good sexy moose!

Next morning the Governor's word reached my ears
"We've commuted your sentence to ninety-nine years!"
"You won't get parole; not a five minute's truce,
And your friend goes to Sing-Sing, he's so big-a-moose!"

(slowly) Now that I'm old and advanced in me years,
I'll look back on me life, and I'll shed me no tears,
As I sit in me chair with me glass of Mateuse,
And play hide the salami with Marvin (Millie) the Moose!

<end part 2 of 4>
<the end>

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