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. ************************************************************************ NOTICE - 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 A COLLECTION OF SCOTTISH AND IRISH SONGS compiled and transcribed by Joe Bethancourt ========================================================================= AS I ROVED OUT 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. * THE ALCOHOLIC'S ANTHEM -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! * ALL AROUND MY HAT -Traditional 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. * ANNA THEA -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. * THE ANCIENT AND OLD IRISH CONDOM -Anonymous (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." * AIR FALALALO 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! * AIKENDRUM (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 * THE BANKS OF THE ROSES 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. * THE BANTAM COCK 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!" * BONNETS OF BONNIE DUNDEE -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! * THE BARNYARDS O'DELGATY 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! * BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL 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) * BORED OF THE DANCE -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! * THE BEGGAR MAN 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") * COME OUT YE BLACK AND TANS! 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. * CHILDREN OF DARKNESS -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. * CELTIC CIRCLE DANCE copyright 1984 W. J. Bethancourt III recorded: CELTIC CIRCLE DANCE WTP-0002 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 * CAMBRIAN DREAM -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. (Chorus) 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! (Chorus) * BOLD MARAUDER -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! * BLACK VELVET BAND 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 BALL OF BALLYKNURE (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! * THE BOLD O'DONOHUGHE 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. * THE BRAES O' KILLIECRANKIE 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! * BRENNAN ON THE MOOR '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! * A BUCKET OF THE MOUNTAIN DEW 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. * BROAD BLACK BRIMMER 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. * CARRICKFERGUS 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. * CAM YE O'ER FRAE FRANCE? (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....! * THE CHILL EASTERN WINDS -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 * COCKLES AND MUSSELS (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. * CONTINENTAL CEILIDH -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. * COURTIN' IN THE KITCHEN 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 kitchen. 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. * DUNDEE CAT 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...!!! * DONALD MAC GILLAVRY (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! * DANNY BOY 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! * I'M A DARLIN' -Anonymous (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 * DINNY THE PIPER -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! * FOUR GREEN FIELDS -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. * THE FOGGY DEW 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. * FIDDLER'S GREEN 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. * THE FIELDS OF ATHENRY 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. * FINNIGAN'S WAKE 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?" * FOLLOW ME UP TO CARLOW -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 dare 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! * GALWAY BAY 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. * THE GOLDEN APPLES OF THE SUN -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............... * GOLDEN, GOLDEN -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! * Edited by Mark S. Harris SI-songbook1-art