SI-songbook2-art

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SI-songbook2-art - 9/17/00

A Collection of Scottish and Irish songs, compiled by Ioseph of Locksley.

This songbook is divided into four parts for ease of downloading. You

are reading part 2 of 4.

NOTE: Also see the files: p-songs-msg, song-sources-msg, songs-msg, songs2-msg,

harps-msg, guitar-art, drums-msg, bardic-msg, Bardic-Guide-art.

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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 at motorola.com stefan at florilegium.org

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From: beudach at 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

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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

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"

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

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!