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. ************************************************************************ 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 ========================================================================= GLENWHORPLE (THE "G" SONG) -Traditional 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 REPEAT CHORUS TWICE TO END * THE GREEN FIELDS OF FRANCE (WILLIE MC BRIDE) 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. * THE GALWAY RACES 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 races 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. * HARD TIMES OF OLD ENGLAND -Traditional 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! * WITH HER HEAD TUCKED UNDERNEATH HER ARM -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! CHORUS 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! CHORUS 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!" CHORUS * THE HIGHWAYMAN 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 barred; 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 say, "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 moonlight 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 coat, When they shot him down on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat. 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...... * THE HOLY GROUND 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 CHORUS: (shout:) FINE GIRL YOU ARE! You're the girl I do adore! And still I live in hopes to see The holy ground once more shout:) FINE GIRL YOU ARE! 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 * HO-RO, MY NUT BROWN MAIDEN 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 (STREET SONG MEDLEY) 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. * I'M A ROVER 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. * IRISH SOLDIER BOY 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. * IRISH SOLDIER LADDIE '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: * THE IRISH ROVER 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. * JOHNNIE COPE (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'!" * JENNY LASS (JOHNNY LAD) 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 lass! 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! * JUG OF PUNCH '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. * JOHNNY MC ELDOO 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! * KELLY OF KILLANE 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. * KILKELLY IRELAND -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 LUM HAT WANTIN' THE CROON 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! * LEAVING OF LIVERPOOL 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. * LOCH LOMOND -Traditional 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' * LANNIGAN'S BALL -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. * LASSIE WI' THE YELLOW COATIE (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! * LOVER'S HEART -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 (chorus) 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 (chorus) 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 (chorus) * LOCK THE DOOR, LARRISTON! -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! * LORD NELSON -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! * LASSIE LIE NEAR ME -Traditional 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 * THE LYKEWAKE DIRGE -Traditional 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 * LORD OF THE DANCE -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! * SHE MOVED THRU THE FAIRE -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! * MacNAMARA'S BAND 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. * NOBODY'S MOGGY-LAND (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 http://www.songworm.com/db/songworm-parody/NobodysMoggyLands.html - 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. (CHORUS) 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! (CHORUS) * THE MOOSE SONG -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! Edited by Mark S. Harris SI-songbook2-art