Title: SI-songbook1-art
Subject: Scottish, Irish songs, vol 1 of 4
Author: Mark Harris
Keywords: Scotch, Irish, songs, songbook

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.

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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
=========================================================================

<part 1 of 4>

                         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!

                             *

<end part 1 of 4>
<the end>

Edited by Mark S. Harris	SI-songbook1-art