Raised on songs & stories, heroes of renown
The passing tales & glories that once was Dublin town
The hallowed halls & houses, the haunting childrens’ rhymes
That once was Dublin city in the rare ould times
Ring a ring a rosie, as the light declines
I remember Dublin city in the rare ould times
My name it is Sean Dempsey, as Dublin as can be
Born hard & late in Pimlico, in a house that ceased to be
By trade I was acooper, lost out to redundancy
Like my house that fell to progress, my trade’s a memory
I courted Peggy Dignan, as pretty as you please
A rogue & a child of Mary, from the rebel liberties
I lost her to a student chap with a skin as blackas coal
When he took her off to Birmingham, she tookaway my soul
Ring a ring a rosie, as the light declines
I remember Dublin city in the rare ould times
The years have made me bitter, the gargle dims me brain’
Cause Dublin keeps on changing & nothing seems the same
The Pillar & the Met have gone, the Royal long since pulled down
As the great unyielding concrete makes a city of my town
Fare thee well sweet Anna Liffe
I can no longer stay and watch the new glass cages, that spring up along the quay
My mind’s too full of memories, too old to hear new chimes
I’m part of what was Dublin in the rare ould times
Ring a ring a rosie, as the light declines
I remember Dublin city in the rare ould times
Ring a ring a rosie, as the light declines
I remember Dublin city in the rare ould times

All the little boats are gone
From the breast of Anna Liffey
And the ferrymen are stranded on the quay
The Dublin docks are dying
And a way of life is gone
And Molly it was part of you and me

Where the strawberry beds
Sweep down to the Liffey
You’ll kiss away the worries from my brow
I love you well today
And I’ll love you more tomorrow
If you ever loved me Molly love me now

‘Twas the only job I knew
It was hard but never lonely
The Liffey Ferry made a man of me
Now it’s gone without a whisper
Forgotten even now
Sure it’s over Molly over can’t you see

Where the strawberry beds
Sweep down to the Liffey
You’ll kiss away the worries from my brow
I love you well today
And I’ll love you more tomorrow
If you ever loved me Molly love me now

Well now I spin my yarns
And spend my days in talking
I hear them whisper Charley’s on the dole
But Molly we’re still living
And Darling we’re still young
And the river never ruled my heart or soul

Where the strawberry beds
Sweep down to the Liffey
You’ll kiss away the worries from my brow
I love you well today
And I’ll love you more tomorrow
If you ever loved me Molly love me now

Where the strawberry beds
Sweep down to the Liffey
You’ll kiss away the worries from my brow
I love you well today
And I’ll love you more tomorrow
If you ever loved me Molly love me now

If you ever loved me Molly love me now

Oh father why are you so sad
on this bright easter morn
when Irishmen are proud and glad
of the land where they were born
Oh son I see sad memories
of far off distant days
when being just a boy like you
I joined the old brigade

Where are the lads that stood with me 
when histoy was made
oh gran mo cree I long to see
The boys of the old brigade

In the hills and farms the call to arms
was heard by one and all
and from the glens came brave young men
to answer Irelands call
twas long ago we faced the foe
the old brigade and me
by my side they fought and died
that Ireland might be free

Where are the lads that stood with me 
when histoy was made
oh gran mo cree I long to see
The boys of the old brigade

and now my boy I’ve told you why 
on easter morn I sigh
for I recall my comrades all
from the dark old days gone by
I think of men who fought in glens
with rifles and grenade
may heaven keep the men who sleep 
from the ranks of the old brigade 

By the lonely prison wall.
I heard a young girl calling.
Michael, they are taking you away,
for you stole Trevelyns corn.
So the young might see the morn.
Now a prisonship lies waiting in the bay.

Low lie, the Fields of Athenry,
where once we watched the small free birds fly.
Our love was on the wing,
we had dreams and songs to sing.
Its so lonely round the fields of Athenry.

By a lonely prison wall
I heard a young man calling.
Nothing matters Mary when youre free,
Against the Famine and the Crown
I rebelled, they ran me down.
Now you must raise our child with dignity.

By a lonely harbour wall
She watched the last star falling.
And that prison ship sailed out against the sky.
Sure she ll wait and hope and pray,
for her love in Botany Bay.
It s so lonely round the fields of Athenry’

A hungry feeling, it came o er me stealing
And the mice they were squealing in my prison cell
And the ould triangle, went jingle jangle
All along the banks of the Royal Canal.

To begin the morning, the screw was bawling
Get up you bowsies and clean out your cell
And the ould triangle, went jingle jangle
All along the banks of the Royal Canal.

In the female prison there are seventy-five women
It s among them I wish I did dwell
And the ould triangle, went jingle jangle
All along the banks of the Royal Canal.

I wish to blazes theyd change the wages
from fifry shillings ah to two pounds ten.
Then the ould triangle, could go jingle jangle
All along the banks of the Royal Canal.
All along the banks of the Royal Canal.

Fair thee well my lovely Dianah
A thousand times adieu
For we’re goin’ away from the holy ground
and the girls we all love true
We will sail the salt sea over
and we’ll return for shore
To see again the girls we love
and the holy ground once more
Fine Girl You Are!

You’re the girl I do adore
And still I live in the hopes to see
The Holy ground once more
Fine Girl You Are!

Now the storm is raging
And we are far from Shore
And the good old ship is tossing about
And the rigging is all tore
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
Fine Girl You Are!

And soon the storm is over
And we are all well
We will go into a public house
and we’ll sit and drink our fill
We will drink strong ale and porter
and we’ll make the rafters roar
And when all of our money is all spent
We will go to sea once more
Fine Girl You Are!

In the year of our Lord, eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from the fair cove of Cork.
We were bound far away with a cargo of bricks
For the fine city hall of New York.
In a wonderful craft, she was rigged fore-and-aft
And oh, how the wild winds drove her.
She had twenty-three masts and withstood several blasts
And we called her the Irish Rover.
There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee,
There was Hogan from County Tyrone.
And a chap called McGurk who was scared stiff of work
And a chap from West Meade called Mellone.
There was Slugger O Toole who was drunk as a rule
And fighting Bill Casey from Dover.
There was Dooley from Claire who was strong as a bear
And was skipper of the Irish Rover.
We had one million bales of old billy goats tails,
We had two million buckets of stones.
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides,
e had four million packets of bones.
We had five million hogs, we had six million dogs,
And seven million barrels of porter.
We had eight million bags of the best Sligo rags
In the hold of the Irish Rover.
We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out
And the ship lost her way in a fog.
And the whole of the crew was reduced unto two,
Twas myself and the captains old dog.
Then the ship struck a rock with a terrible shock
And then she heeled right over,
Turned nine times around, and the poor dog was drowned
Im the last of the Irish Rovers

Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summers gone, and all the flowers are dying
tis you, tis you must go and I must bide.

But come you back when summers in the meadow
Or when the valleys hushed and white with snow
tis I ll be there 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 warm and sweeter be
If youll not fail to tell me that you love me
I simply sleep in peace until you come to me.

In my memory I will always see
The town that I have loved so well
Where our school played ball by the gasyard wall
And we laughed through the smoke and smell.
Going home in the rain running up the dark lane
Past the jail and down beside the fountain
Those were happy days in so many many ways
In the town I loved so well.
In the early morn the shirt factory horn
Called women from Creggan, the Moor and the Bog
While the men on the dole played a mothers role
Fed the children and then walked the dog
And when times got rough, there was just about enough
But they saw it through without complaining
For deep inside was a burning pride
for the town I loved so well.
There was music there in the Derry air
Like a language that we could all understand
I remember the day when I earned my first pay
as I played in a small pickup band
There I spent my youth and to tell you the truth
I was sad to leave it all behind me
For Id learned about life and Id found a wife
In the town I loved so well.
But when I returned how my eyes were burned
To see how a town could be brought to its knees
By the armoured cars and the bombed out bars
And the gas that hangs on to every breeze
Now the armys installed by that old gasyard wall
And the damned barbed wire gets higher and higher
With their tanks and guns
Oh my God, what have they done
To the town I loved so well.
Now the musics gone but they carry on
For their spirits been bruised, never broken
Oh, theyll not forget still their hearts are set
On tomorrow and peace once again
Now whats done is done and whats won is won
And whats lost is lost and gone forever
I can only pray for a bright brand new day
In the town I loved so well.,

Ive been a wild rover for many a year
And I spent all my money on whiskey and beer,
And now Im returning with gold in great store
And I never will play the wild rover no more.

And its no, nay, never,
No nay never no more,
Will I play the wild rover
No never no more.

I went to an ale-house I used to frequent
And I told the landlady my money was spent.
I asked her for credit, she answered me nay
Such a custom as yours I could have any day.

I took from my pocket ten sovereigns bright
And the landladys eyes opened wide with delight.
She said I have whiskey and wines of the best
And the words that I spoke sure were only in jest.

Ill go home to my parents, confess what Ive done
And Ill ask them to pardon their prodigal son.
And if they caress me as ofttimes before
Sure I never will play the wild rover no more.

Of all the money that e’re I spent,
I spent it in good company.
And all the harm that e’re I’ve done
alas it was to none but me.
And all I’ve done for want of wit
To memory now I can’t recall.
So fill to me the parting glass,
Goodnight and joy be with you all,
Of all the comrades that e’re I had
Are sorry now I’m going away.
And all the sweethearts that e’re I had
they would wish me one more day to stay.
But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not.
I’ll gently rise and I’ll softly call
Goodnight and joy be with you all.
If I had money enough to spend,
And leisure time to sit awhile.
There is one fair maid in this town,
That sorely has my heart beguiled.
Her rosey cheeks and ruby lips,
I own she has my heart in thrall.
So fill me with the parting glass,
Good night and joy be with you all.

On the Banks of the Roses me love and I lay down
And I took out me fiddle for to play me love a tune
And in the middle of the tune o she smiled and she said
Oh Johnny, lovely Johnny don’t ya leave me

When I was a young man I heard me father say
That he’d rather see me dead and buried in the clay
Sooner than be married to any runaway
By the lovely sweet banks of the roses

And then I am no runaway and soon I’ll let them know
That I can take the bottle or can leave it alone
And if her daddy doesn’t like it he can keep his
daughter at home
And young Johnny will go rovin’ with another

And when I get married t’will be in the month of May
When the leaves they are green and the meadows they are gay
And me and me true love we’ll sit and sport and play
By the lovely sweet banks of the roses

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,
Come gangers all from Donegal,
Sligo and Leitrim too,
Oh, we’ll give the slip and we’ll take a sip
Of the rare 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 poitin, 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 poitin from Ireland green,
Distilled from wheat and rye.
Away with yer pills, it’ll cure all ills,
Be ye Pagan, Christian or Jew,
So take off your coat and grease your throat
With a bucketful of Mountain Dew.

As I rode to Galway Town to seek for recreation,
On the 17th of August, me mind being elevated,
There were multitudes assembled with their tickets at the station,
My eyes began to dazzle and I’m going to see the races,

With me Whack, Fol-da-da,
Fol-da-diddly-ida- day.

There were passengers from Limerick and more from Tipperary,
Boys from Connemara and a flair of married ladies,
People from Cork City who were loyal, true and faithful,
Who brought home the Fenian prisoners from dying in foreign nations.

It’s there you’ll see the pipers and the fiddlers competing,
The nimble-footed dancers a-tripping o’er the daisies,
There were others crying cigars and likes, and bills for all the races,
With the colours of the jockeys and the price 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 sportsman hospitality and induce fresh acquaintance

I met my love by the gas works wall
Dreamed a dream by the old canal
I kissed a girl by the factory wall
  Dirty old town dirty old town
  Dirty old town dirty old town
Clouds a drifting across the moon
Cats a prowling on their beat
Springs a girl in the street at night
  Dirty old town dirty old town
  Dirty old town dirty old town
Heard a siren from the docks
Saw a train set the night on fire
Smelled the spring in the smokey wind
  Dirty old town dirty old town
  Dirty old town dirty old town
I m going to make a good sharp axe
Shining steel tempered in the fire
Will chop you down like an old dead tree
  Dirty old town dirty old town
  Dirty old town dirty old town.

As we gather in the chapel here in Old Kilmainham Jail
I think about these past few days, oh will they say we’ve failed
From our schooldays they have told us we must yearn for liberty
Yet all I want in this dark place is to have you here wlth me

Oh Grace just hold me in your arms and let this moment linger,
they take me out at dawn and I will die
With all my love I place this wedding ring upon your finger
There won’t be time to share our love for we must say goodbye

Now I know it’s hard for you my love to ever understand
the love I bear for these brave men, my love for this dear land
But when Padhraic called me to his side down in the GPO
I had to leave my own sick bed, to him I had to go

Now as the dawn is breaking, my heart is breaking too
On this May morn as I walk out my thoughts will be of you
And I’ll write some words upon the wall so everyone wlll know
I love so much that I could see his blood upon the rose

In Dublins fair city where girls are so pretty
I first met sweet Molly Malone
As she wheeled her wheelbarrow
Through street broad and narrow
Crying Cockles and mussels alive alive oh
    Alive alive oh alive alive oh
    Crying Cockles and mussels alive alive oh
Now she was a fishmonger and sure twas no wonder
For so were her mother and father before
And they each wheeled their barrows
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying Cockles and mussels alive alive oh

She died of a faver and no one could save her
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone
Now her ghost wheels her barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying Cockles and mussels alive alive oh’,

What did I have now said the fine old woman
What did I have now this proud old woman did say
I had four green fields each one was a jewel
But strangers came and tried to take them from me
But my 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 pillage
My children starved by mountain, valley and stream
And their wailling cries they reach the very heavens
And my four green fields ran thran 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 in bondage
In strangers’ hands that tried to take it from me
But my sons have sons as brave as their fathers
And my four green fields will bloom once again said she

And my four green fields will bloom once again said she

Oh Flower of Scotland,
When will we see your like again
That fought and died for
Your wee bit hill and glen
And stood against him,
Proud Edward’s army
And sent him homeward
To think again

The hills are bare now,
And autumn leaves lie thick and still
O’er land that is lost now,
Which those so dearly held
That stood against him,
Proud Edward’s army
And sent him homeward
To think again

Those days are past now
And in the past they must remain
But we can still rise now
And be the nation again
That stood against him
Proud Edward’s army
And sent him homeward
To think again.

As I walked by the dockside one evening so fair
To view the salt water and take the sea air
I saw an old fisherman singing a song
“Won’t you take me away boys my time is not long

Wrap me up in my oil skin jumper
No more on the docks I’ll be seen
Just tell me oul ship mates I’m takin’ a trip mates
And I’ll see you someday on Fiddler’s Green

Now Fiddler’s Green is a place I heard tell
Where the fishermen go when they don’t go to hell
Where the skies are all clear and the dolphins do play
And the cold coast of Greenland is far far away

When you get back on the docks and the long trip is through
There’s pubs and there’s clubs and Lassies there too
Where the girls are all pretty and the beer it is free
And there’s bottles of Rum growin from every tree

Now I don’t want a harp nor a Halo not me
Just give me a breeze and a good rolling sea
I’ll play me old squeeze box as we sail along
With the wind in the rigging to sing me a song

On Raglan Road of an autumn day I saw her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue.
I saw the danger and I passed along the enchanted way
and I said let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.

On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the lay
of a deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passions play.
The queen of hearts still making tarts and I not making hay.
Oh, I love too much and by such, by such is happiness thrown away.
I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign
Known to the artists who have known the true Gods of sound and stone.
And words and tint I did not stint, I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over the fields of May.
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet, I see her walking now
away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
that I had loved not as I should a creature made of clay.
When tha angel woos the clay he ll lose his wings at the dawn of the day

Come all you maidens young and fair

All you that are blooming in your prime

Always beware and keep your garden fair

Let no man steal away your thyme

For thyme it is a precious thing

And thyme brings all things to my mind

Thyme with all it flavours along with all its joys

Thyme brings all things to my mind

Once she had a bunch of thyme 

She thought it never would decay

Then came a lusty sailor 

Who chanced to pass her way

He stole her bunch of thyme away

The sailor gave to her a rose

A rose that never would decay

He gave it to her to be reminded

Of when he stole her thyme away

An old man came courting me, hey ding-doorum down 

An old man came courting me, me being young 

An old man came courting me, said he would marry me 

Maids when you’re young never wed an old man 

Because he’s got no faloorum, faliddle aye oorum 

He’s got no faloorum, faliddle aye ay 

He’s got no faloorum, he’s lost his ding-doorum 

So maids when you’re young never wed an old man 

When we went to church, hey ding-doorum down 

When we went to church, me being young 

When we went to church, he left me in the lurch 

Maids when you’re young never wed an old man 

Because he’s got no faloorum, faliddle aye oorum 

He’s got no faloorum, faliddle aye ay 

He’s got no faloorum, he’s lost his ding-doorum 

So maids when you’re young never wed an old man 

When we went to bed, hey ding-doorum down 

When we went to bed, me being young 

When we went to bed, he lay like he was dead 

Maids when you’re young never wed an old man 

Because he’s got no faloorum, faliddle aye oorum 

He’s got no faloorum, faliddle aye ay 

He’s got no faloorum, he’s lost his ding-doorum 

So maids when you’re young never wed an old man 

When he went to sleep, hey ding-doorum down 

When he went to sleep, me being young 

When he went to sleep, out of bed I did creep 

Into the arms of a handsome young man 

And I found his faloorum, faliddle aye oorum 

I found his faloorum, faliddle aye ay 

I found his faloorum, he’s got my ding-doorum 

So maids when you’re young never wed an old man

He was stranded in some tiny town on fair Prince Edward Island 

Waiting for a ship to come and find him 

A one horse place, a friendly face, some coffee and a tiny trace 

Of fiddlin’ in the distance far behind him 

A dime across the counter then, a shy hello, a brand new friend 

A walk along the street in the wintry weather 

A yellow light, an open door, a “Welcome friend, there’s room for more” 

Soon they’re standing there inside together 

He said “I’ve heard that tune before somewhere but I can’t remember when 

Was it on some other friendly shore, did I hear it on the wind 

Was it written on the sky above, I think I heard it from someone I love 

But I never heard it sound so sweet since then 

How his feet begin to tap, a little boy says “I’ll take your hat” 

He’s caught up in the magic of his smile 

Then leaps the heart inside him when and off across the floor he sends 

His clumsy body, graceful as a child 

He said “There’s magic in the fiddler’s arms and there’s magic in this town 

There’s magic in the dancers’ feet and the way they put them down 

Smiling people everywhere, boots and ribbons and locks of hair 

Laughter and old blue suits and Easter gowns” 

The sailor’s gone, the room is bare, the old piano’s sitting there 

Someone’s hat’s left hanging on the rack 

Some empty chairs, the wooden floor that feels the touch of shoes no more 

Waiting for the dancers to come back 

And the fiddle’s in the closet of some daughter of the town 

Strings are broke and the bow is gone and the case is buttoned down 

But often on December nights when the air is cold and the wind is right 

There’s a melody comes passing through this town

I wish I was in Carrickfergus

Only for nights in Ballygrand

I would swim over the deepest ocean

Only for nights in Ballygrand

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 Killenny 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

‘Cause I am 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

They say of life it has been written

One chance of happiness, that chance I lost

The sands of time have passed from out of me

And it’s too late to count the cost

But 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

Will you come to the bower o’er the free boundless ocean 

Where the stupendous waves roll in thundering motion, 

Where the mermaids are seen and the fierce tempest gathers, 

To loved Erin the green, the dear land of our fathers.” 

Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower 

 Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower

Will you come to the land of O’Neill and O’Donnell 

Of Lord Lucan of old and immortal O’Connell. 

Where Brian drove the Danes and Saint Patrick the vermin 

And whose valleys remain still most beautiful and charming

You can visit Benburb and the storied Blackwater, 

Where Owen Roe met Munroe and his Chieftains did slaughter 

Where the lambs skip and play on the mossy all over, 

From those bright golden views to enchanting Rostrevor. 

You can see Dublin city, and the fine groves of Blarney 

The Bann, Boyne, and Liffey and the Lakes of Killarney, 

You may ride on the tide on the broad majestic Shannon 

You may sail round Loch Neagh and see storied Dungannon. 

You can visit New Ross, gallant Wexford, and Gorey, 

Where the green was last seen by proud Saxon and Tory, 

Where the soil is sanctified by the blood of each true man 

Where they died satisfied that their enemies they would not run from. 

Will you come and awake our lost land from its slumber 

And her fetters we’ll break, links that long are encumbered. 

And the air will resound with hosannahs to greet you 

On the shore will be found gallant Irishmen to greet you. 

Oh people of heart I pray pay attention 

Listen to what I’m about to relate 

Concerning a couple I overheard talking 

As I was returning late home from a wake 

As I rode along sure I saw an old woman 

Who sat in a gap, she was milking her cow 

She was jigging that tune called: 

“Make haste to the wedding” 

Or some other ditty I can’t tell you now 

Ah, the next came along; it was a bold tinker 

Who happened by change to be passing that way 

The day being fine they sat down together 

What news of that man, the old woman did say 

There’s no news at all mam, replied the bold tinker 

But the people all wish that he never had been 

He’s a damned of a rogue of a Daniel O’Connell 

And he’s now making babies in Dublin by steam 

Ah, the children are ruined replied the old woman 

Or has the quare fellow gone crazy at last 

Or is it the sign of a war or rebellion 

Or what is the reason he wants them so fast 

It’s not that at all mam replied the bold tinker 

The children of Ireland are getting too small 

It’s O’Connell’s petition to the new Lord Lieutenant 

That he won’t let us make them the old way at all 

By this pipe in me mouth, replied the old woman 

And that’s a strong oath on me soul for to say 

But I am an old woman and if I was near him 

I bet you me life that he’d rue the day 

For the people of Ireland they’re very well known 

They gave them their earnings when needing them bad 

And now that he is recompensing them for it 

By taking the only diversion they have 

I light to your coach mam replied the bold tinker 

Long may you live now with youth on your side 

If all the young girls in Ireland were like you 

O’Connell could throw his steam-engine aside 

If I had the young men of Ireland around me 

And girls making babies as fast as they can 

And whenever Her Majesty wanted an army 

We’d be able to send her as many as Dan

Our troop was made ready at the dawn of the day 

From lovely Enniskillen they were marching us away. 

They put us then on board a ship to cross the raging main, 

To fight in bloody battle in the sunny land of Spain. 

Fare thee well Enniskillen, fare thee well for a while 

And all around the borders of Erin’s green isle; 

And when the war is over we’ll return in full bloom 

And you’ll all welcome home the Enniskillen Dragoons. 

Oh Spain it is a gallant land where wine and ale flow free 

There’s lots of lovely women there to dandle on your knee 

And often in a tavern there we’d make the rafters ring 

When every soldier in the house would raise his glass and sing 

Fare thee well Enniskillen, fare thee well for a while 

And all around the borders of Erin’s green isle; 

And when the war is over we’ll return in full bloom 

And you’ll all welcome home the Enniskillen Dragoons. 

Well we fought for Ireland’s glory there and many a man did fall 

From musket and from bayonet and from thundering cannon ball 

And many a foeman we laid low, amid the battle throng 

And as we prepared for action you would often hear this song 

Fare thee well Enniskillen, fare thee well for a while 

And all around the borders of Erin’s green isle; 

And when the war is over we’ll return in full bloom 

And you’ll all welcome home the Enniskillen Dragoons. 

Well now the fighting’s over and for home we have set sail, 

Our flag above this lofty ship is fluttering in the gale: 

They’ve given us a pension boys of fourpence each a day 

And when we reach Enniskillen never more.we’ll have to say. 

Fare thee well Enniskillen, fare thee well for a while 

And all around the borders of Erin’s green isle; 

And when the war is over we’ll return in full bloom 

And you’ll all welcome home the Enniskillen Dragoons.

Well there’s four of us who share the room, 

we work hard for the brass

And getting up late on Sunday, 

I never go to mass

It’s a long long way from Clare to here

It’s a long long way from Clare to here

Oh, it’s a long long way, it gets further day by day

It’s a long long way from Clare to here

When Friday night comes around 

and Eddy’s only in the fighting

My ma would like a letter home 

but I’m too tired for writing

It’s a long long way from Clare to here

It’s a long long way from Clare to here

Oh, it’s a long long way, it gets further day by day

It’s a long long way from Clare to here

Well it almost breaks my heart 

when I think of Josephine

I promised I’d be coming 

back with pockets full of green

It’s a long long way from Clare to here

It’s a long long way from Clare to here

Oh, it’s a long long way, it gets further day by day

It’s a long long way from Clare to here

I dream I hear a piper play 

or maybe it’s emotion

I dream I see white horses dance 

on that other ocean

Let us pause in life’s pleasures and count its many tears,

While we all sup sorrow with the poor;

There’s a song that will linger forever in our ears;

Oh Hard times come again no more.

Tis the song, the sigh of the weary,

Hard Times, hard times, come again no more

Many days you have lingered around my cabin door;

Oh hard times come again no more.

While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay,

There are frail forms fainting at the door;

Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say

Oh hard times come again no more.

Tis the song, the sigh of the weary,

Hard Times, hard times, come again no more

Many days you have lingered around my cabin door;

Oh hard times come again no more.

There’s a pale drooping maiden who toils her life away,

With a worn heart whose better days are o’er:

Though her voice would be merry, ’tis sighing all the day,

Oh hard times come again no more.

Tis the song, the sigh of the weary,

Hard Times, hard times, come again no more

Many days you have lingered around my cabin door;

Oh hard times come again no more.

Tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave,

Tis a wail that is heard upon the shore

Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave

Oh hard times come again no more.

‘Twas down by Brannigan’s Corner, one morning I did stray

I met a fellow rebel, and to me he did say

“We’ve orders from the captain to assemble at Dunbar

But how are we to get there, without a motor car?”

“Oh, Barney dear, be of good cheer, I’ll tell you what we’ll do
The specials they are plentiful, the I.R.A. are few
We’ll send a wire to Johnson to meet us at Stranlar
And we’ll give the boys a bloody good ride in Johnson’s Motor Car

When doctor Johnson heard the news he soon put on his shoes
He says this is an urgent case, there is no time to lose
He then put on his castor hat and on his breast a star
You could hear the din all through Glenfin of Johnson’s Motor Car

But when he got to the railway bridge, some rebels he saw there
Old Johnson knew the game was up, for at him they did stare
He said “I have a permit, to travel near and far”
“To hell with your English permit, we want your motor car”

“What will my local brethren think, when they hear the news
My car it has been commandeered, by the rebels at Dunluce”
“We’ll give you a receipt for it, all signed by Captain Barr
And when Ireland gets her freedom, boy, you’ll get your motor car”

Well we put that car in motion and filled it to the brim
With guns and bayonets shining which made old Johnson grim
And Barney hoisted a Sínn Fein flag, and it fluttered like a star
And we gave three cheers for the I.R.A. and Johnson’s Motor Car

The lark in the morning she arises from her nest
And she ascends all in the air with the dew upon her breast
And with the pretty ploughboy she’ll whistle and she’ll sing
And at night she’ll return to her own nest again

When his day’s work is over, oh what then will he do
Perhaps then into some country wake he’ll go
And with his pretty sweetheart, he’ll dance and he’ll sing
And at night he’ll return with his love back again

And as they returned from the wake unto the town
The meadows they are mowed and the grass it is cut down
The nightingale she whistles upon the hawthorn spray
And the moon it is a shining upon the new mown hay

Good luck unto the ploughboys wherever they may be
They will take a winsome lass for to sit upon their knee
And with a jug of beer boys, they’ll whistle and they’ll sing
And the ploughboy is as happy as a prince or a king

There was a lord who lived in this town

Who had a lovely and handsome daughter

She was courted by a fine young man

Who was a servan to her father

And when her parents came to know

They swore they’d ban him from the island

The maid she swore that heart would break

Had she to part with young Matt Hyland

So straight away to her love she goes
Into his room to awake him
Saying arise my love and go away
This very night you will be taken
I overheard my parents say
Inspite of me they will transport you
So arise my love and go away
I wish to God I’d gone before you

They both sat down up on the bed
Just for the side of one half hour
And not a word by either said
As down their cheeks the tears did shower
She laid her hand up an his breast
Around his neck her arms entwined
Not a duke nor lord nor an earl I’ll wed
I’ll wait for you my own Matt Hyland

The lord discoursed with her daughter fair
One night alone in her chamber
Saying we’ll give you leave for to bring him back
Since there’s no one can win your favour
She wrote a letter then in haste
Her heart for him was still repining
They brought him back to the church they went
And made a lord of young Matt Hyland

When apples still grow in November
When blossoms still bloom on each tree
When leaves are still green in December
It’s then that our land will be free
I’ve wandered the hills and valleys
And still through my sorrow I see
A land that has never known freedom
And only her rivers run free

I drink to the death of her manhood
Those men who’d rather have died
Than to live in the cold chains of bondage
To bring back their rights were denied
But where are you now that we need you?
What burns where the flame used to be?
Are you gone like the snow of last winter?
And will only our rivers run free

How sweet is life, but we’re crying
How mellow the wine, but we’re dry
How fragrant the rose, that is dying
How gentle the wind but it sighs
What good is in youth when it’s ageing?
What joys is in eyes that can’t see?
When there’s sorrow in sunshine and flowers
And still only our rivers run free

Come over the hills, my bonnie Irish lass
Come over the hills to your darling
You choose the rose, love, and I’ll make the vow
And I’ll be your true love forever.

Red is the rose by yonder garden grows
And fair is the lily of the valley
Clear is the water that flows from the Boyne
But my love is fairer than any

Come over the hills, my bonnie Irish lass
Come over the hills to your darling
You choose the rose, love, and I’ll make the vow
And I’ll be your true love forever.

Twas down by Killarney’s green woods that we strayed
And the moon and the stars were shining
The moon shone it’s rays on her locks of golden hair
And she swore she’d be my love for ever

Come over the hills, my bonnie Irish lass
Come over the hills to your darling
You choose the rose, love, and I’ll make the vow
And I’ll be your true love forever.

It’s not for the parting that my sister pains
It’s not for the grief of my mother
It’s all for the loss of my bonnie Irish lass
That my heart is breaking for ever

Schooldays over, come on then John,
time to be gettin’ your pit boots on
On with your sark and moleskin trousers,
it’s time you were on your way
Time you were learning the pitman’s job and earning a pitman’s pay

Come on then Jim, it’s time to go,
time you were working down below
Time to be handling a pick and shovel,
you start at the pit today
Time you were learning the collier’s job and earning a collier’s pay

Come on then Dai, it’s almost light,
time you were off to the anthracite
The morning mist in on the valley,
it’s time you were on your way
Time you were learning the miner’s job and earning a miner’s pay

Schooldays over, come on then John,
time to be gettin’ your pit boots on
On with your sark and moleskin trousers,
it’s time you were on your way
Time you were learning the pitman’s job and earning a pitman’s pay

Schooldays over, come on then John,
time to be gettin’ your pit boots on
On with your sark and moleskin trousers,
it’s time you were on your way
Time you were learning the pitman’s job and earning a pitman’s pay

Come on then Jim, it’s time to go,
time you were working down below
Time to be handling a pick and shovel,
you start at the pit today
Time you were learning the collier’s job and earning a collier’s pay

Come on then Dai, it’s almost light,
time you were off to the anthracite
The morning mist in on the valley,
it’s time you were on your way
Time you were learning the miner’s job and earning a miner’s pay

Schooldays over, come on then John,
time to be gettin’ your pit boots on
On with your sark and moleskin trousers,
it’s time you were on your way
Time you were learning the pitman’s job and earning a pitman’s pay

In the village of Kildorey, there lived a maiden fair

Her eyes they shone like diamonds, she had long and golden hair

And a countryman came riding, up to her father’s gate

Mounted on a milk white stallion, he came at the stroke of eight

Step it out Mary, my fine daughter
Step it out Mary, if you can
Step it out Mary, my fine daughter
Show your legs to the countryman

I’ve come to court your daughter, Mary of the golden hair
I have wealth and I have money, I have goods beyond compare
I will buy her silks and satin and a gold ring for her hand
I’ll build for her a mansion, she’ll have servants to command

Step it out Mary, my fine daughter
Step it out Mary, if you can
Step it out Mary, my fine daughter
Show your legs to the countryman

Oh kind sir I love a soldier, I’ve pledged to him my hand
I don’t want your wealth nor money, I don’t want your goods nor land
Mary’s father spoke up sharply: “You will do as you are told
You’ll be married on next Sunday and you’ll wear that ring of gold”

Step it out Mary, my fine daughter
Step it out Mary, if you can
Step it out Mary, my fine daughter
Show your legs to the countryman

In the village of Kildorey, there’s a deep stream running by
They found Mary there at midnight, she drowned with the soldier boy
In the cottage there is music, you can hear the father say:
“Step it out Mary my fine daughter, Sunday is your wedding day”

Step it out Mary, my fine daughter
Step it out Mary, if you can
Step it out Mary, my fine daughter
Show your legs to the countryman

O Sullivan’s John to the road you’ve gone
far away from your native home.
You’ve gone with the tinker’s daughter
for along the road to roam.
O Sullivan’s John you won’t stick it long
’till your belly will soon get slack.
Up along the old road, with a mighty load.
And your toolbox on your back.

I met Katy Caffey and her neat baby
Behind on her back strapped on.
She had an oul ash plant in her hand
To drive the oul donkey along.
Enquiring in every farmhouse,
as along the road she passed,
oh where would she get an old pot to mend,
and where would she get an ass.

There’s a hairy ass fair in County Clare
in a place they call Spancil Hill.
Where my brother James got a rap of a hames,
and poor Paddy they tried to killl.
They loaded him up in an oul ass and cart,
as along the road to go.
Oh bad luck to the day that he roved away
for to join with the tinker band.

It was down the glen one Easter morn
To a city fair rode I.
When Armed lines of marching men
In squadrons passed me by.
No pipe did hum, no battle drum
Did sound its loud tattoo
But the Angelus bell o’er the Liffey’s swell
Rang out in the foggy dew.

Right proudly high over Dublin town
They hung out a flag of war.
It was 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 Brittania’s huns with their long-range guns
Sailed in neath the foggy dew.

It was England bade our wild geese go
That small nations might be free.
Their lonely graves are by Suvla’s waves
On the fringe of the grey North Sea.
O had they died by Pearse’s side
Or fought with the nobel Cathal Brugha,
Then their names we would keep where the Fenians sleep
‘Neath the hills of the foggy dew.

But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell
Rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide
In the springing of the year.
And the world did gaze in deep amaze
At those fearless men and true
Who bore the fight that freedom’s light
Might shine through the foggy dew.

Into our townlan’ on a night of snow
rode a man from God knows where;
None of us bade him stay or go,
nor deemed him friend, nor damned him foe,
but we stabled his big roan mare;
for in our townlan’ we’re decent folk,
and if he didn’t speak, why none of us spoke,
and we sat till the fire burned low.

We’re a civil sort in our wee place
so we made the circle wide
round Andy Lemon’s cheerful blaze,
and wished the man his length of days
and a good end to his ride.
He smiled in under his slouchy hat,
says he: ‘There’s a bit of a joke in that,
for we ride different ways.’

The whiles we smoked we watched him stare
from his seat fornenst the glow.
I nudged Joe Moore: ‘You wouldn’t dare
to ask him who he’s for meeting there,
and how far he has got to go?’
And Joe wouldn’t dare, nor Wully Scott,
And he took no drink – neither cold nor hot,
this man from God knows where.

It was closing time, and late forbye,
when us ones braved the air.
I never saw worse (may I live or die)
than the sleet that night, an’ I says, says I:
‘You’ll find he’s for stopping there.’
But at screek o’day, through the gable pane
I watched him spur in the peltin’ rain,
an’ I juked from his rovin’ eye.

Two winters more, then the Trouble year,
when the best that a man could feel
was the pike that he kept in hidin’s near,
till the blood o’ hate an’ the blood o’ fear
would be redder nor rust on the steel.
Us ones quet from mindin’ the farms
Let them take what we gave wi’ the weight o’ our arms
from Saintfield to Kilkeel.

In the time o’ the Hurry, we had no lead
we all of us fought with the rest
an’ if e’er a one shook like a tremblin’ reed,
none of us gave neither hint nor heed,
nor ever even’d we’d guessed.
We men of the North had a word to say,
an’we said it then, in our own dour way,
an’ we spoke as we thought was best.

All Ulster over, the weemin cried
for the stan’in’ crops on the lan’.
Many’s the sweetheart and many’s the bride
would liefer ha’ gone to where he died,
and ha’ mourned her lone by her man.
But us ones weathered the thick of it
and we used to dander along and sit
in Andy’s, side by side.

What with discourse goin’ to and fro,
the night would be wearin’ thin,
yet never so late when we rose to go
but someone would say: ‘do ye min’ thon’ snow,
an ‘the man who came wanderin’in?’
and we be to fall to the talk again,
if by any chance he was one o’ them
The man who went like the win’.

Well ’twas gettin’ on past the heat o’ the year
when I rode to Newtown fair;
I sold as I could (the dealers were near
only three pounds eight for the Innish steer,
an’ nothin’ at all for the mare!)
I met M’Kee in the throng o’ the street,
says he: ‘The grass has grown under our feet
since they hanged young Warwick here.’,

And he told me that Boney had promised help to a man in Dublin town.
Says he: ‘If you’ve laid the pike on the shelf,
you’d better go home hot-fut by yourself,
an’ once more take it down.’
So by Comber road I trotted the grey
and never cut corn until Killyleagh
stood plain on the risin’ groun’.

For a wheen o’ days we sat waitin’ the word
to rise and go at it like men,
but no French ships sailed into Cloughey Bay
and we heard the black news on a harvest day
that the cause was lost again;
and Joey and me, and Wully Boy Scott,
we agreed to ourselves we’d as lief as not
ha’ been found in the thick o’ the slain.

By Downpatrick goal I was bound to fare
on a day I’ll remember, feth;
for when I came to the prison square
the people were waitin’ in hundreds there
an’ you wouldn’t hear stir nor breath!
For the sodgers were standing, grim an’ tall,
round a scaffold built there foment the wall,
an’ a man stepped out for death!

I was brave an’ near to the edge of the throng,
yet I knowed the face again,
an’ I knowed the set, an’ I knowed the walk
an’ the sound of his strange up-country talk,
for he spoke out right an’ plain.
Then he bowed his head to the swinging rope,
whiles I said ‘Please God’ to his dying hope
and ‘Amen’ to his dying prayer
that the wrong would cease and the right prevail,
for the man that they hanged at Downpatrick gaol
was the Man from God knows where!

And it’s three score and ten boys and men

Were lost from Grimsby Town

From Yarmouth down to Scarborough

Many hundreds more were drowned

Their herring craft and their trawlers

Their fishing smacks as well

Alone they fight the bitter night

And battle with the swell

Me thinks I see a host of craft
Spreading their sails alee
As down the Humber they do steer
Bound for the great North Sea
Me thinks I see a wee small craft
And crew with hearts so brave
They go to earn their daily bread
Upon the restless waves

And it’s three score and ten boys and men
Were lost from Grimsby Town
From Yarmouth down to Scarborough
Many hundreds more were drowned
Their herring craft and their trawlers
Their fishing smacks as well
Alone they fight the bitter night
And battle with the swell

Me thinks I see them yet again
As they leave this land behind
Casting their nets into the sea
The herring shoals to find
Me thinks I see them yet again
And they’re safe on board alright
With their sails close reefed
Their decks washed clean
And their sidelights burning bright

And it’s three score and ten boys and men
Were lost from Grimsby Town
From Yarmouth down to Scarborough
Many hundreds more were drowned
Their herring craft and their trawlers
Their fishing smacks as well
Alone they fight the bitter night
And battle with the swell

October’s night brought such a sight
‘Twas never seen before
There were yards of masts and broken spars
Washed up upon the shore
There was many a heart of sorrow
There was many a heart so brave
There was many a true and noble lad
To find a watery grave

And it’s three score and ten boys and men
Were lost from Grimsby Town
From Yarmouth down to Scarborough
Many hundreds more were drowned
Their herring craft and their trawlers
Their fishing smacks as well
Alone they fight the bitter night
And battle with the swell

Oh, the summer time is coming,

And the trees are sweetly blooming,

And the wild mountain thyme

grows around the blooming heather.

Will you go, lassie, go?
And we’ll all go together
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the blooming heather,
Will you go lassie, go?

I will build my love a bower
By yon clear and crystal fountain,
And on it I will pile
All the flowers of the mountain.

Will you go, lassie, go?
And we’ll all go together
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the blooming heather,
Will you go lassie, go?

If my true love, she won’t have me,
I will surely find another
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the blooming heather.

Will you go, lassie, go?
And we’ll all go together
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the blooming heather,
Will you go lassie, go?

Oh, the summer time is coming
And the trees are sweetly blooming
And the wild mountain thyme
Grows around the blooming heather.

Well it’s all for me grog, me jolly jolly grog,
It’s all for me beer and tobacco.
For I spent all me tin on the lassies drinking gin,
Far across the western ocean I must wander. 

Where are me boots, me noggin’, noggin’ boots,
They’re all gone for beer and tobacco.
For the heels they are worn out and the toes are kicked about
And the soles are looking out for better weather.

Well it’s all for me grog, me jolly jolly grog,
It’s all for me beer and tobacco.
For I spent all me tin on the lassies drinking gin,
Far across the western ocean I must wander 

Well it’s all for me grog, me jolly jolly grog,
It’s all for me beer and tobacco.
For I spent all me tin on the lassies drinking gin,
Far across the western ocean I must wander

Where is me shirt, me noggin’, noggin’ shirt,
It’s all gone for beer and tobacco,
For the collar is all worn, and the sleeves they are all torn,
And the tail is looking out for better weather.

Well it’s all for me grog, me jolly jolly grog,
It’s all for me beer and tobacco.
For I spent all me tin on the lassies drinking gin,
Far across the western ocean I must wander

‘m sick in the head and I haven’t been to bed,
Since first I came ashore from me slumber,
For I spent all me dough on the lassies don’t you know,
Far across the western ocean I must wander.
Chorus: 

At Boolavogue as the sun was setting,

O`er the bright may meadows of Shelmalier,

A rebel hand set the heather blazing,

and brought the neighbours from far and near;

Then Father Murphy from old Kilcormack

Spurred up the rock with a warning cry:

“Arm! Arm!” he cried, “For I`ve come to lead you,

for Ireland`s freedom we`ll fight or die!”

He lead us on against the coming soldiers,

And the cowardly Yeomen we put to flight,

`Twas at the Harrow the boys of Wexford

Showed Bookey`s regiment how men could fight;

Look out for hirelings, King George of England,

Search every kingdom where breathes a slave,

For Father Murphy of County Wexford,

Sweeps o`er the land like a mighty wave.

We took Camolin and Enniscorthy,

And Wexford storming drove out our foes,

`Twas at Slieve Coilte our pikes were reeking

With the crimson blood of the beaten Yeos.

At Tubberneering and Ballyellis,

Full many a Hessian lay in his gore,

Ah! Father Murphy had aid come over,

The Green Flag floated from shore to shore!

At Vinegar Hill, O`er the pleasant Slaney,

Our heroes vainly stood back to back,

and the Yeos at Tullow took Father Murphy,

and burnt his body upon a rack.

God grant you glory, brave Father Murphy,

And open Heaven to all your men,

the cause that called you may call tomorrow,

in another fight for the Green again.

A hungry feeling, came o’er me stealing
And the mice they were squealing in my prison cell
And that auld triangle, went jingle jangle
All along the banks of the Royal Canal

Oh to start the morning, the warden bawling
Get up out of bed you, and clean out your cell
And that auld triangle, went jingle jangle
All along the banks of the Royal Canal

Oh the screw was peeping and the lag was sleeping
As he lay weeping for his girl Sal
And that auld triangle, went jingle jangle
All along the banks of the Royal Canal

On a fine spring evening, the lag lay dreaming
And the seagulls were wheeling high above the wall
And that auld triangle, went jingle jangle
All along the banks of the Royal Canal

Oh the wind was sighing, and the day was dying
As the lag lay crying in his prision cell
And that auld triangle, went jingle jangle
All along the banks of the Royal Canal

In the female prison there are seventy women
And I wish it was with them that I did dwell
And that auld triangle, went jingle jangle
All along the banks of the Royal Canal

In 1803 we sailed out to sea 

Out from the sweet town of Derry 

For Australia bound if we didn’t all drown 

And the marks of our fetters we carried. 

In the rusty iron chains we cried for our wains 

Our good women we left in sorrow. 

As the mainsails unfurled our curses we hurled 

On the English and thoughts of tomorrow. 

At the mouth of the Foyle Bid farewell to the soil

As down below decks we were lying

O’Doherty screamed woken out of a dream

By a vision of bold Robert dying

The sun burned us cruel As we dished out the gruel

Dan O’cconnor was down with a fever

Sixty rebels today bound for bottony bay

How many will reach their reciever

Oh Oh Oh Oh I wish I was back home in Derry. 

Oh Oh Oh Oh I wish I was back home in Derry.

I cursed them to hell as our bow fought the swell. 

Our ship danced like a moth in the firelights. 

White horses rode high as the devil passed by 

Taking souls to Hades by twilight. 

Five weeks out to sea we were now forty-three 

We buried our comrades each morning. 

In our own slime we were lost in a time. 

Endless night without dawning. 

Oh Oh Oh Oh I wish I was back home in Derry. 

Oh Oh Oh Oh I wish I was back home in Derry.

Van Dieman’s land is a hell for a man 

To live out his whole life in slavery. 

When the climate is raw and the gun makes the law. 

Neither wind nor rain cares for bravery. 

Twenty years have gone by and I’ve ended me bond 

And comrades’ ghosts are behind me. 

A rebel I came and I’m still the same. 

On the cold winds of night you will find me 

Oh Oh Oh Oh I wish I was back home in Derry. 

Oh Oh Oh Oh I wish I was back home in derry

I was born on a Dublin street where the Royal drums do beat 

AAnd 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: 

cho: Oh, come out you black and tans, 

Come out and fight me like a man 

Show your wife how you won medals fown 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 truly persecuted, 

Where are the smears and jeers 

That you bravely let us hear 

When our heroes of sixteen were executed. 

Come tell us how you slew 

Those brave Arabs two by two 

Like the Zulus 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. 

Allen, Larkin, and O’Brien– 

How you bravely called them swine! 

Robert Emmett who you hung and drew and quartered! 

High upon that scaffold high, 

How you murdered Henry Joy! 

And our Croppy Boys from Wexford you did slaughter! 

The day is coming fast 

And the time is here at last, 

When each yeoman will be cast aside before us, 

And if there be a need 

Sure my kids wil sing, “Godspeed!” 

With a verse or two of Steven Beehan’s chorus. 

Poor aul Dicey Reilly she has taken to the sup 

Poor aul Dicey Reilly she will never give it up 

It’s off each morning to the pub 

And then she’s in for another little drop 

Ah, the heart of the rule is Dicey Reilly 

Poor aul Dicey Reilly she has taken to the sup 

Poor aul Dicey Reilly she will never give it up 

It’s off each morning to the pub 

And then she’s in for another little drop 

Ah, the heart of the rule is Dicey Reilly 

She walks along Fitzgibbon Street with an independent air 

And then it’s down by Summerhill and as the people stare 

She says it’s nearly half past one and it’s time I had another little one 

Ah, the heart of the rule is Dicey Reilly 

Poor aul Dicey Reilly she has taken to the sup 

Poor aul Dicey Reilly she will never give it up 

It’s off each morning to the pub 

And then she’s in for another little drop 

Ah, the heart of the rule is Dicey Reilly 

Long years ago when men were men and fancied May of Long 

Or lovely Becky Cooper or Maggie’s Mary Wong 

One woman put them all to shame, just one was worthy of the name 

And the name of that dame was Dicey Reilly 

Poor aul Dicey Reilly she has taken to the sup 

Poor aul Dicey Reilly she will never give it up 

It’s off each morning to the pub 

And then she’s in for another little drop 

Ah, the heart of the rule is Dicey Reilly 

But time went catching up on her like many pretty ones 

It’s after you along the street before you’re out the door 

Their balance vague, their looks all fade, but out of all that great brigade 

Still the heart of the rule is Dicey Reilly 

Poor aul Dicey Reilly she has taken to the sup 

Poor aul Dicey Reilly she will never give it up 

It’s off each morning to the pub 

And then she’s in for another little drop 

Ah, the heart of the rule is Dicey Reilly 

Poor aul Dicey Reilly she has taken to the sup 

Poor aul Dicey Reilly she will never give it up 

It’s off each morning to the pub 

And then she’s in for another little drop 

Ah, the heart of the rule is Dicey Reilly

Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin Street,

A gentleman Irish mighty odd

He had a brogue both rich and sweet,

An’ to rise in the world he carried a hod

But Tim had a touch of the tipplin’ way

With the love for the liquor poor Tim was born

And to send him on his way each day,

He’d a drop of the craythur ev’ry morn

Chorus

Whack fol the dah will ya dance to yer parner 

around the flure yer trotters shake

Wasn’-n’t it the truth I told you? 

Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake

One morning Tim was rather full

His head felt heavy which made him shake

He fell off the ladder and he broke his skull

And they carried him home his corpse to wake

Well they rolled him up in a nice clean sheet

And they laid him out upon the bed

With a bottle of whiskey at his feet

And a barrel of porter at his head

Well his friends assembled at the wake

And Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch

Well first they brought in tay and cake

The pipes, tobacco and brandy punch

Then Widow Malone began to cry

‘Such a lovely corpse, did you ever see

Arrah, Tim avourneen, why did you die?’

‘Will ye hould your gob?’ said Molly McGee

Well Mary O’Connor took up the job

‘Biddy’ says she ‘you’re wrong, I’m sure’

Well Biddy gave her a belt in the gob

And left her sprawling on the floor

Well civil war did then engage

Woman to woman and man to man

Shillelagh law was all the rage

And a row and a runction soon began

Well Jim Maloney raised his head

When a bottle of whiskey flew at him

He ducked and, landing on the bed

The whiskey scattered over Tim

Bedad he revives, see how he rises

Tim Finnegan rising in the bed

Saying ‘Whittle your whiskey around like blazes

Thunderin’ Jaysus, do ye think I’m dead?’

GATHER UP THE POTS AND THE OLD TIN CANS

THE MASH THE THE CORN THE BARLEY AND THE BRAN

RUN LIKE HELL FROM THE EXISE MAN

KEEP THE SMOKE FROM RISING BARNEY

SWING TO THE LEFT SWING TO THE RIGHT

THE EXCISE MEN WILL DANCE ALL NIGHT

DRINKING UP THE TAY TILL THE BROAD DAYLIGHT

IN THE HILLS OF CONNEMARA

GATHER UP THE POTS AND THE OLD TIN CANS

THE MASH THE THE CORN THE BARLEY AND THE BRAN

RUN LIKE HELL FROM THE EXISE MAN

KEEP THE SMOKE FROM RISING BARNEY

A GALLON FOR THE BUTCHER A QUART FOR TOM

A BOTTLE FOR POOR OLD FATHER JOHN

TO HELP THE POOR OLD DEAR ALONG

IN THE HILLS OF CONNEMARA

GATHER UP THE POTS AND THE OLD TIN CANS

THE MASH THE THE CORN THE BARLEY AND THE BRAN

RUN LIKE HELL FROM THE EXISE MAN

KEEP THE SMOKE FROM RISING BARNEY

STAND YOUR GROUND OH ITS TOO LATE

THE EXCISE MEN ARE AT THE GATE

GLORY BE TO PADDY THEY’RE DRINKING IT NATE

IN THE HILLS OF CONNEMARA

GATHER UP THE POTS AND THE OLD TIN CANS

THE MASH THE THE CORN THE BARLEY AND THE BRAN

RUN LIKE HELL FROM THE EXISE MAN

KEEP THE SMOKE FROM RISING BARNEY

GATHER UP THE POTS AND THE OLD TIN CANS

THE MASH THE THE CORN THE BARLEY AND THE BRAN

RUN LIKE HELL FROM THE EXISE MAN

KEEP THE SMOKE FROM RISING BARNEY

GATHER UP THE POTS AND THE OLD TIN CANS

THE MASH THE THE CORN THE BARLEY AND THE BRAN

RUN LIKE HELL FROM THE EXISE MAN

KEEP THE SMOKE FROM RISING BARNEY

KEEP THE SMOKE FROM RISING BARNEY

KEEP THE SMOKE FROM RISING BARNEY

Molly dear now did you hear the news that’s going round 

Down in a corner of my heart a love is what you’ve found 

Every time I look into your Irish eyes so blue 

They seem to whisper “Darling boy, my love is all for you” 

Oh, Molly, my Irish Molly, my sweet achusla dear 

I’m fairly off my trolley, my Irish Molly when you are near 

Springtime you know is ringtime, come dear now don’t be slow 

Change your name, go out with game, 

begorrah wouldn’t I do the same my Irish Molly O 

Molly dear now did you hear I furnished up the flat 

Three little cosy rooms with bath and “welcome” on the mat 

It’s five pounds down and two a week, we’ll soon be out of debt 

It’s all complete except they haven’t brought the cradle yet 

Oh, Molly, my Irish Molly, my sweet achusla dear 

I’m fairly off my trolley, my Irish Molly when you are near 

Springtime you know is ringtime, come dear now don’t be slow 

Change your name, go out with game, 

begorrah wouldn’t I do the same my Irish Molly O 

Molly dear and did you hear what all the neighbours say 

About the hundred sovereigns you have safely stowed away 

They say that’s why I love you, Ah but Molly that’s a shame 

If you had only ninety-nine, I’d love you just the same 

Oh, Molly, my Irish Molly, my sweet achusla dear 

I’m fairly off my trolley, my Irish Molly when you are near 

Springtime you know is ringtime, come dear now don’t be slow 

Change your name, go out with game, 

begorrah wouldn’t I do the same my Irish Molly O

When midnight conies and peopIe homeward tread.
Seek now your blankets and your feather bed.
Home comes the rover, his journey’s over.
Yields up the nighttime to old John 0′ Dreams.
Yield up the nighttime to old John 0′ Dreams.

When midnight comes and people homeward tread
Seek now your blankets and your feather bed.
Home comes the rover, his journey is over
Yield up the night time to old John 0′ Dreams.

Across the hill the sun has gone astray.
Tomorrow’s cares are many dreams away.
The stars are flying, your candle’s dying.
Yield up the night to old John 0′ Dreams.

Both man and master in the night are one.
All things are equal when the day is done.
The prince and the ploughman, the slave and the freeman.
All find their comfort in old John 0′ Dreams.

When sleep it comes the dreams come running clear.
The hawks of morning cannot reach you here.
Sleep is a river, flow on for ever.
And for your boatman choose old John 0′ Dreams

In comes the train and the whole platform shakes

It stops with a shudder and a screaming of brakes

The parting has come and my weary soul aches

I’m leaving my Nancy, oh

But you stand there so calmly determinedly gay
You talk of the weather and events of the day
And your eyes tell me all that your tongue doesn’t say
Goodbye my Nancy, oh

And come a little closer
Put your head upon my shoulder
And let me hold you one last time
Before the whistle blows

My suitcase is lifted and stowed on the train
And a thousand regrets whirl around in my brain
The ache in my heart is a black sea of pain
I’m leaving my Nancy, oh

But you stand there beside me so lovely to see
The grip of your hand is an unspoken plea
You’re not fooling yourself and you’re not fooling me
Goodbye my Nancy, oh

And come a little closer
Put your head upon my shoulder
And let me hold you one last time
Before the whistle blows

But our time has run out and the whistle has blown
Here I must leave you standing alone
We had so little time and now the time’s gone
Goodbye my Nancy, oh

And as the train starts gently to roll
And as I lean out to wave and to call
I see the first tears trickle and fall
Goodbye my Nancy, oh

And come a little closer
Put your head upon my shoulder
And let me hold you one last time
Before the whistle blows
And let me hold you one last time
Before the whistle blows

I danced in the morning when the world was begun
I danced in the moon, the stars and the sun
I danced down from Heaven and I danced on Earth
At Bethlehem I had my birth

Dance, then, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the Dance, said He
And I’ll lead you all, wherever you may be
And I’ll lead you all in the dance, said He

I danced for the scribe and the Pharisee
They would not dance; they would not follow me
So I danced for the fisherman, for James and John
They came with me and the dance went on

Dance, then, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the Dance, said He
And I’ll lead you all, wherever you may be
And I’ll lead you all in the dance, said He

I danced on the Sabbath and I cured the lame
They holy people said it was a shame
So they whipped, they stripped, they hung me high
And they left me on the cross to die

Dance, then, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the Dance, said He
And I’ll lead you all, wherever you may be
And I’ll lead you all in the dance, said He

I danced on a Friday, when the sky turned black
It’s hard to dance with the Devil on your back
Oh they buried my body, they thought I’d gone
But I and the dance still go on

Dance, then, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the Dance, said He
And I’ll lead you all, wherever you may be
And I’ll lead you all in the dance, said He

They cut me down, but I lept on high
I am the light that will never, never die
But I’ll live in you if you’ll live in me
I am the Lord of the Dance, said He

Dance, then, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the Dance, said He
And I’ll lead you all, wherever you may be
And I’ll lead you all in the dance, said He

As down the glen came McAlpine’s men

with their shovels slung behind them

It was in the pub they drank the sub

and up in the spike you’ll find them

They sweated blood and

they washed down mud with pints and quarts of beer

And now we’re on the road again with McAlpine’s Fusiliers

I stripped to the skin with the Darky Flynn
way down upon the Isle of Grain
With the Horseface Toole I knew the rule,
no money if you stop for rain
When McAlpine’s god was a well filled hod
with your shoulders cut to bits and seared
And woe to he who looks for tea with McAlpine’s Fusiliers

I remember the day that the Bear O’Shea
fell into a concrete stairs
What the Horseface said, when he saw him dead,
well it wasn’t what the rich call prayers
I’m a navvy short was the one retort that reached unto my ears
When the going is rough, well you must be tough with McAlpine’s Fusiliers

I’ve worked till the sweat near had me bet
with Russian, Czech and Pole
On shuddering jams up in the hydro dams
or underneath the Thames in a hole
I grafted hard and I’ve got me cards
and many a gangers fist across me ears
If you pride your life, don’t join, by Christ, with McAlpine’s Fusiliers

Now I’ve often heard it said from me father and me mother
That the going tae a wedding is the making of another
Well, if this be true, I will go without a biddin
O kind providence, won’t you send me tae a wedding

And its O dear me, how would it be,
if I die an old maid in a garret

Well, there’s my sister Jean, she’s not handsome or good looking
Scarcely sixteen and a fella she was courting
Now at twenty-four with a son and a daughter
Here am I at forty-five and I’ve never had an offer

I can cook and I can sew and I can keep the house right tidy
Rise up in the morning and get the breakfast ready
There’s nothing in this whole world would make me half so cheery
As a wee fat man to call me his own deary
So come landsman or come pinsman, come tinker or come tailor
Come fiddler or come dancer, come ploughboy or come sailor
Come rich man, come poor man, come fool or come witty
Come any man at all that will marry me for pity

Well now I’m away home for nobody’s heeding
Nobody’s heeding and nobody’s pleading
I’ll go away to my own bitty garret
If I can’t get a man, then I’ll have to get a parrot

How sweet is to roam by the sunny Shure stream
And hear the doves coo ‘neath the morning sunbeam
Where the thrush and the robin their sweet notes entwine
On the banks of the Shure that flows down by Mooncoin.
Flow on, lovely river, flow gently along
By your waters so sweet sounds the lark’s merry song
On your green banks I wander where first I did join
With you, lovely Molly, the rose of Mooncoin.

Oh Molly, dear Molly, it breaks my fond heart
To know that we two forever must part
I’ll think of you Molly while sun and moon shine
On the banks of the Shure that flows down by Mooncoin.

Then here’s to the Shure with its valley so fair
As oftimes we wandered in the cool morning air
Where the roses are blooming and lilies entwine
On the banks of the Shure that flows down by Mooncoin.

Flow on, lovely river, flow gently along
By your waters so sweet sounds the lark’s merry song
On your green banks I wander where first I did join
With you, lovely Molly, the rose of Mooncoin.

They say that the lakes of Killarney are fair
That no stream like the Liffey can ever compare
If it´s water you want you´ll find nothing more rare
Than the stuff they make down by the ocean

The sea, oh the sea is the gradh geal mo croide
Long may it stay between England and me
It´s a sure guarantee that some hour we´ll be free
Oh thank God we´re surrounded by water

Tom Moore made his waters meet fame and renown
A great lover of anything dressed in a crown
In brandy the brandy old Saxon he´d drown
But throw ne’er a one into the ocean

The Scots have their whisky, the Welsh have their speech
And their poets are paid about tenpence a week
Provided no hard words on England they speak
Oh Lord! What a price for devotion

The Danes came to Ireland with nothing to do
But dream of the plundered old Irish they slew
´Yeh will in your Viking, said Brian Boru
And threw them back into the ocean!

Two foreign old monarchs in battle did join,
Each wanting their head on the back of a coin
If the Irish had sense they´d drowned both in the Boyne
And partition throw into the ocean!

I was eighteen years old, when I went down to Dublin
with a fistful of money and a cartload of dreams
“Take your time”, said me father “stop rushing like hell
And remember all is not what it seems to be
For there’s fellows would cut you for the coat on your back
Or the watch that you got from your mother
So take care me young buck-o and mind yourself well
And will you give this wee note to me brother”

At the time Uncle Benjy was a policeman in Brooklyn
And me father the youngest looked after the farm
When a phone call from America said ‘Send the lad over’
And the ould fella said sure it wouldn’t do any harm
For I spoent my life working this dirty old ground
For a few pints of porter and the smell of a pound
And sure maybe there’s something you’ll learn or you’ll see
And you can bring it back home, make it easy on me

So I landed at Kennedy and a big yellow taxi
Carried me and my bags through the streets and the rain
Well my poor heart was pumping around with excitement
And I hardly even heard what the driver was saying
We came in the short parkway to the flatlands in Brooklyn
To my uncle’s apartment on East 53rd
I was feeling so happy I was humming a song
And I sang you’re as “Free as a bird”

Well to shorten the story what I found out that day
Was that Benjy got shot in a downtown foray
And while I was flyng my way to New York
Poor Benjy was lying in a cold city morgue
Well I phoned up the ould fella, told him the news
I could tell he could hardly stand up in his shoes
And he wept as he told me, go ahead with the plan
And not to forget to be a proud Irishman

So I went up to Nelly’s beside Fordham Road
And I started to learn about lifting the load
But the healthiest thing that I carried that year
Was the bitter sweet thoughts of my home town so dear
I went home that December ’cause the old fella died
Had to borrow the money from Phil on the side
And all the bright flowers and grass couldn’t hide
The poor wasted face of my father

I sold up the old farmyard for what it was worth
And into my bag stuck a handful of earth
Then I boarded a train and I caught me a plane
And I found myself back in the U.S. again
It’s been twenty-two years since I set foot in Dublin
The kids know to use the correct knife and fork
But I’ll never forget the green grass and the rivers
As I keep law and order in the streets of New York

Last night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by
My mind being bent on rambling to Ireland I did fly
I stepped on board a vision and I followed with the wind
And I shortly came to anchor at the cross of Spancil Hill

It being the 23rd June the day before the fair
When lreland’s sons and daughters in crowds assembled there
The young and the old, the brave and the bold their journey to fulfill
There were jovial conversations at the fair of Spancil Hill

I went to see my neighbors to hear what they might say
The old ones were all dead and gone and the young one’s turning grey
I met with the tailor Quigley, he’s a bould as ever still
Sure he used to make my britches when I lived in Spancil Hill

I paid a flying visit to my first and only love
She’s as white as any lily and as gentle as a dove
She threw her arms around me saying “Johnny, I love you still”
Oh she’s Ned the farmers daughter and the flower of Spancil Hill

I dreamt I held and kissed her as in the days of yore
She said, “Johnny you’re only joking like many’s the time before”
The cock he crew in the morning he crew both loud and shrill
And I awoke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill.

Oh I am a merry ploughboy
And I plough the fields all day
Till a sudden thought came to my mind
That I should run away
Well I’m sick and tired of slavery
Since the day that I was born
So I’m off to join the I.R.A.
And I’m off tomorrow morn

Well I’m off to Dublin in the green in the green
Where the helmets glisten in the sun
Where the bayonets flash and the rifles clash
To the echo of a Thompson gun

I’ll leave aside my old grey coat
And I’ll leave aside my plough
I’ll leave aside my old grey mare
For no more I’ll need them now
And I’ll take my shoert revolver
And my bandolier of lead
and live or die I can but try
To avenge my country’s dead

Well I’m off to Dublin in the green in the green
Where the helmets glisten in the sun
Where the bayonets flash and the rifles clash
To the echo of a Thompson gun

There’s one I leave behind me
She’s the coleen I adore
And I wonder will she think of me
When she hears the cannons roar
And when this war is over
And dear old Ireland’s free
I’ll take her to the church to wed
And a rebel’s wife she’ll be

Well I’m off to Dublin in the green in the green
Where the helmets glisten in the sun
Where the bayonets flash and the rifles clash
To the echo of a Thompson gun

I am a freeborn man of the traveling people
Got no fixed abode, with nomads I am numbered
Country lanes and byways were always my ways
Never fancied being lumbered

O we knew the woods, all the resting places
And the small birds sang when wintertime was over
Then we’d pack our load and be on the road
They were good old times for the rover

There was open ground where a man could linger
Stay a week or two for time was not your master
Then away you’d jog with your horse and dog
Nice and easy, no need to go faster

Now and then you’d meet up with other travelers
Hear the news or else swap family information
At the country fairs, we’d be meeting there
All the people of the traveling nation

All you freeborn men of the traveling people
Every tinker, rolling stone, or gypsy rover
Winds of change are blowing, old ways are going
Your traveling days will soon be over

As I was going over the far Kilmagenny mountain
I met with captain Farrell and his money he was counting.
I first produced my pistol, and the produced my rapier.
Said stand and deliver, for I am a bold deceiver,

musha ring dumma do damma da
whack for the daddy ‘o
whack for the daddy ‘o
there’s whiskey in the jar

I counted out his money, and it made a pretty penny.
I put it in my pocket and I brought it home to Jenny.
She said and she swore, that she never would deceive me,
but the devil take the women, for they never can be easy

musha ring dumma do damma da
whack for the daddy ‘o
whack for the daddy ‘o
there’s whiskey in the jar

I went into my chamber, for to take a slumber,
I dreamt of gold and jewels and for sure it was no wonder.
But Jenny took my charges and she filled them up with water,
and send for captain Farrel to be ready for the slaughter.

musha ring dumma do damma da
whack for the daddy ‘o
whack for the daddy ‘o
there’s whiskey in the jar

It was early in the morning, before I rose to travel,
the guards were all around me and likewise captain Farrel.
I first produced my pistol, for she stole away my rapier,
but I couldn’t shoot the water so a prisoner I was taken.

musha ring dumma do damma da
whack for the daddy ‘o
whack for the daddy ‘o
there’s whiskey in the jar

If anyone can aid me, it’s my brother in the army,
if I can find his station in Cork or in Killarney.
And if he’ll come and save me, we’ll go roving near Kilkenny,
and I swear he’ll treat me better than me darling sportling Jenny

It’s a working man I am
And I’ve been down underground
And I swear to God if I ever see the sun
Or for any length of time
I can hold it in my mind
I never again will go underground

At the age of sixteen years
I quarrelled with the spears
Who swore that never be another one
In the dark recess of the mines
where you age before your time
And the coal dust lies heavy on your lungs

It’s a working man I am
And I’ve been down underground
And I swear to God if I ever see the sun
Or for any length of time
I can hold it in my mind
I never again will go underground

At the age of sixty-four
he’ll greet you at the door
And gently lead you by the arm
To the dark recess of the mine
He’ll take you back in time
And tell you of the hardships that were had

It’s a working man I am
And I’ve been down underground
And I swear to God if I ever see the sun
Or for any length of time
I can hold it in my mind
I never again will go underground

Oh have you been to Avondale and lingered in her lovely vale

Where tall trees whisper low the tale of avondale’s proud eagle

Where pride and ancient glory fade

Such was the land where he was laid

Like Christ was thirty pieces paid

For Avondale’s proud eagle

Oh have you been to Avondale and lingered in her lovely vale

Where tall trees whisper low the tale of avondale’s proud eagle

Long years that green and lovely glade

Have lost for now our grandest Gael

And Cursed the land that has betrayed

Our Avondale’s proud eagle

Oh have you been to Avondale and lingered in her lovely vale

Where tall trees whisper low the tale of avondale’s proud eagle

Where pride and ancient glory fade

Such was the land where he was laid

Like Christ was thirty pieces paid

For Avondale’s proud eagle

Oh have you been to Avondale and lingered in her lovely vale

Where tall trees whisper low the tale of avondale’s proud eagle

Long years that green and lovely glade

Have lost for now our grandest Gael

And Cursed the land that has betrayed

Our Avondale’s proud eagle

At the east end of town 

At the foot of the hill 

There’s a chimney so tall 

It says Belfast Mill. 

But there’s no smoke at all 

Coming out of the stack 

For the mill has shut down 

And is never coming back. 

And the only tune I hear 

Is the sound of the wind 

As she blows through the town 

Weave and spin, weave and spin. 

There’s no children playing 

In the dark narrow streets 

And the loom has shut down 

It’s so quiet I can’t sleep. 

The mill has shut down 

’twas the only life I know 

Tell me where will I go 

Tell me where will I go. 

And the only tune I hear 

Is the sound of the wind 

As she blows through the town 

Weave and spin, weave and spin. 

I’m too old to work 

And I’m too young to die 

Tell me where will I go now 

My family and I.

Well here I am from Paddy’s Land, a land of high renown

I broke the hearts of all the girls for miles from Kittystown

And when they hear that I’m around they raise a hullabaloo

When they heard about that handsome lad the call O Donohue

For I’m the boy to please her and I’m the boy to tease here

I’m the boy to squeeze her and I’ll tell you what I’d do

I’ll court her like an Irishman with me brogue and blarney clothes me man

Hannigan, Lannigan, Flannagan, Brannigan, bold O Donohue

I’d wish me love was a red, red rose growing on your garden wall

I need to be a dew drop and upon her brow I’d fall

Perhaps then she might think of me as a rather heavy dew

No more would she love the handsome lad they call O donohue

For I’m the boy to please her and I’m the boy to tease here

I’m the boy to squeeze her and I’ll tell you what I’d do

I’ll court her like an Irishman with me brogue and blarney clothes me man

Hannigan, Lannigan, Flannagan, Brannigan, bold O Donohue

I hear the Queen Victoria has a daughter fine and grand

Perhaps she’d take it into her head to marry an Irishman

And If only I could get the chance to speak a word or two

Perhaps she’d take a notion for the bold O Donohue

For I’m the boy to please her and I’m the boy to tease here

I’m the boy to squeeze her and I’ll tell you what I’d do

I’ll court her like an Irishman with me brogue and blarney clothes me man

Hannigan, Lannigan, Flannagan, Brannigan, bold O Donohue

Oh the winter it has passed

And the summer’s come at last

The small birds are singing in the trees

And their little hearts are glad

ah, but mine is very sad

Since my true love is far away from me

And straight I will repair

To the Curragh of Kildare

For it’s there I’ll finds tidings of my dear

Oh the rose upon the briar

And the clouds that float so high

Bring joy to the linnet and the bee

And their little hearts are blessed

But mine can know no rest

Since my true love is far away from me

All you who are in love

Aye and cannot it remove

I pity the pain that you endure

For experience lets me know

That your hearts are filled with woe

It’s a woe that no mortal can cure

It was in an through the window broads,

And a tirlie wirlies o

The sweetest kiss that eer I got,

Was from my dainty Davie.

Oh, leeze me on your curly pow

Dainty Davie, dainty Davie

Leeze me on your curly pow

You’re my only dainty Davie

It was down among my daddys pease, 

And underneath the cherry trees,

Oh there he kissed me as he pleased,

For he was my ain dear Davie.

Oh, leeze me on your curly pow

Dainty Davie, dainty Davie

Leeze me on your curly pow

You’re my only dainty Davie

When he was chased by the dragoons, 

Into my bed he was laid doon,

I thought him worthy o his room,

For hes aye my dainty Davie

Lift MacCahir Og your face brooding o’er the old disgrace 

That black FitzWilliam stormed your place, drove you to the Fern 

Grey said victory was sure soon the firebrand he’d secure; 

Until he met at Glenmalure with Feach MacHugh O’Byrne. 

Curse and swear Lord Kildare 

Feagh will do what Feach will dare 

Now FitzWilliam, have a care 

Fallen is your star, low 

Up with halbert out with sword 

On we’ll go for by the lord 

Feach MacHugh has given the 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, there flows a stream of Saxon gore 

Och, great is Rory Oge O’More, sending the loons to Hades. 

White is sick and Lane is fled, now for black FitzWilliam’s head 

We’ll send it over, dripping red, to Queen Liza and the ladies. 

I’ve met some folks who say that I’m a dreamer

And I’ve no doubt there’s truth in what they say

But sure a body’s bound to be a dreamer

When all the things he loves are far away

And precious things are dreams unto an exile

They take o’er the land across the sea

Especially when it happens he’s an exile

From that dear lovely isle of inisfree

And when the moonlight peeps across the rooftops

Of this great city wondrous though it be

I scarcely feel it’s wonder or it’s laughter

I’m again back home in Inisfree

I wander o’er green hills through dreamy valleys

And find a peace no other land could know

I hear birds make music fit for angels

And watch the rivers laughing as they flow

And then into a humble shack I wander

My dear old home I tenderly behold

The folks I love around the turf-fire gathered

On bended knee the rosary is told

But dreams don’t last though dreams are not forgotten

And soon I’m back to stern reality

For though they pave the footpath here with gold dust

I still would choose the Isle of Iinnisfree

There were three lovely lasses from Kimmage,

From Kimmage, from Kimmage

And whenever there’s a bit of a scrimmage

Sure, I was the toughest of all

Sure, I was the toughest of all.

Now the cause of the row was Joe Cashin
Joe Cashin’, Joe Cashin’
For he told me he thought I looked smashin’
At a dance in the Adelaide Hall,
At a dance in the Adelaide Hall.

When he gets a few jars he goes frantic
Oh frantic, oh frantic
But he’s tall and he’s dark and romantic
And I love him in spite of it all,
And I love him in spite of it all.

Now the other two young ones were flippin’,
Were flippin’, were flippin”
When they saw me and Joe and me trippin’
To the strains of the Tennessee Waltz,
To the strains of the Tennessee Waltz.

Now he told me he thought we should marry,
Should marry, should marry,
For he said it was foolish to tarry,
So I lent him the price of the ring,
So I lent him the price of the ring,

Now me da says he’ll give us a present,
A present, a present,
An oul’ stool and a lovely stuffed pheasant,
And a picture to hang on the wall,
And a picture to hang on the wall.

I went down to the Tenaney Section,
The Section, the Section,
The T.D. just before the election,
Said he’d get me a house near me ma,
Yes, he’d get me a house near me ma.

Well we’re gettin’ the house, the man said it
He said it, he said it,
When I’ve five or six kids to my credit
In the meantime we’ll live with me ma,
In the meantime we’ll live with me ma.

Oh Liverpool Lou lovely Liverpool Lou
Why can’t you behave just like other girls do
Why must my poor heart keep following you
Stay home and love me my Liverpool Lou

When I go out walking, I hear people talking
School children playing, I hear what their saying
Their saying you’re grieve me
That you will decieve me
Some morning you’ll leave me
All packed up and gone

Oh Liverpool Lou lovely Liverpool Lou
Why can’t you behave just like other girls do
Why must my poor heart keep following you
Stay home and love me my Liverpool Lou

The sounds from river keep telling me ever
That I should forget you, like I’ve never met you
Oh tell me their song love
Was never more wrong love
Say I belong love
to my Liverpool Lou

Oh my lovely Rose of Clare,
You’re the sweetest girl I know.
You’re the Queen of all the roses,
Like the pretty flowers that grow.
You are the sunshine of my life, so beautiful and fair.
And I will always love you, my lovely Rose of Clare.

The sun, it shone out like a jewel,
On the lovely Rose of Clare.
As I strolled along with my sweet love,
One evening at the fair.
Her eyes they shone like silver threads,
With her long long golden hair.
I stole the heart of a young sweet lass,
My lovely Rose of Clare.

Now we walk down by the river banks,
Where the lovely Shannon lies.
And listen to the nightingales,
Singing songs for you and I.
And now to say goodbye, farewell,
To all you people there.
For I have stole the heart of one,
My lovely Rose of Clare.

The minstrel boy to the war is gone
In the ranks of death you will find him
His father’s sword he hath girded on
And his wild harp slung behind him

“Land of Song!” said the warrior bard
“Though all the world betrays thee
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!”

The Minstrel fell! But the foeman’s chain
Could not bring that proud soul under
The harp he lov’d ne’er spoke again
For he tore its chords asunder

And said “No chains shall sully thee
Thou soul of love and bravery!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free
They shall never sound in slavery!”

In the days I went a courtin’, I was never tired resortin’

To the alehouse and the playhouse or many a house beside,

I told me brother Seamus l’d go off and go right famous

And before l’d return again l’d roam the world wide.

So goodbye Muirsheen Durkin, l’m sick and tired of working,

No more I’ll dig the praties, no longer I’ll be fool.

For as sure as me name is Carney

I’ll be off to California, where instead of diggin’praties

I’ll be diggin’lumps of gold.

I’ve courted girls in Blarney, in Kanturk and in Killarney
In Passage and in Queenstown, that is the Cobh of Cork.
But goodbye to all this pleasure, for l’m going to take me leisure
And the next time you will hear from me
Will be a letter from New York,

So goodbye Muirsheen Durkin, l’m sick and tired of working,
No more I’ll dig the praties, no longer I’ll be fool.
For as sure as me name is Carney
I’ll be off to California, where instead of diggin’praties
I’ll be diggin’lumps of gold.

Goodbye to all the boys at home, l’m sailing far across the foam
To try to make me fortune in far America,
For there’s s gold and money plenty for the poor and gentry
And when I come back again I never more will stray

So goodbye Muirsheen Durkin, l’m sick and tired of working,
No more I’ll dig the praties, no longer I’ll be fool.
For as sure as me name is Carney
I’ll be off to California, where instead of diggin’praties
I’ll be diggin’lumps of gold.

O Peggy Gordon, You are my darling
Come sit you down upon my knee
And tell to me the very reason
Why I am slighted so by thee

I am so in love that I can’t deny it
My heart lies smothered in my breast
it’s not for you to let the whole world know it
A troubled mind can find no rest

I leaned myself on a cask of brandy
It was my fancy, I do declare
For when I’m drinking, I’m always thinking
Wishing Peggy Gordon was there

I wished I was in a lonesome valley
Where womankind cannot be found
And the pretty little birds do change their voices
And every moment a different sound

I wish I was away in Ingo
Far away across the briny sea
Sailing over deepest waters
Where love nor care never trouble me

Oh, me name it is Sam Hall, chimney sweep, chimney sweep

Oh, me name it is Sam Hall, chimney sweep

Oh, me name it is Sam Hall and I rob both rich and small

And me neck will pay for all, when I die, when I die

And me neck will pay for all when I die

Up the ladder I did grope, that’s no joke, that’s no joke
Up the ladder I did grope, that’s no joke
Up the ladder I did grope and the hangman pulled the rope
And ne’er a word I spoke, tumbling down, tumbling down
And ne’er a word I spoke tumbling down

Oh they took me to Coote Hill in a cart, in a cart
Oh they took me to Coote Hill in a cart
Oh they took me to Coote Hill and I stopped to make my will
Saying the best of friends must part, so must I, so must I
Saying the best of friends must part, so must I

As I was walking down the road
A feeling fine and larky oh
A recruiting sergeant came up to me
Says he you’d look fine in khaki oh
For the King he is in need of men
Come read this proclamation oh
A life in Flanders for you then
Would be a fine vacation now

That maybe so says I to him
But tell me sergeant dearie-oh
If I had a pack stuck upon me back
Would I look fine and cheerie oh
For they’d have you train and drill until
They had you one of Frenchies oh
It may be warm in Flanders
But it’s draughty in the trenches oh

The sergeant smiled and winked his eye
His smile was most provoking oh
He twiddled and twirled his wee moustache
Says he: You’re only joking oh
For the sandbags are so warm and high
The wind you won’t feel blowing oh
Well I winked at a cailin passing by
Says I what if it’s snowing oh

Come rain or hail or wind or snow
I’m not going out to Flanders oh
There’s fighting in Dublin to be done
Let your Sergeants and your Commanders go
Let Englishmen for england fight
It’s nearly time they started oh
I saluted the Sergeant a very good night
And there and then we parted oh

When winter was brawling,
o’er high hills and mountains
And dark were the clouds
o’er the deep rolling sea,
I spied a wee lass
as the daylight was dawning
She was asking the road to sweet Carnloch Bay.

I said,”My wee lassie,
I canna weel teIl ye
The number of miles
or how far it might be
But if you’ll consent
I’ll convoy you a wee bit
And I’ll show you the road to sweet Carnloch Bay.

You turn to the right
and pass down by the churchyard
Cross over the river and down by the sea;
We’ll call in Pat Hamill’s
and have a wee drop there
Just to help us along to sweet Carnloch Bay.
Here’s a health to Pat Hamill
likewise the wee lassie
And to every laddie that’s listening to me
And ne’er turn your back on a bonnie wee lassie
When she’s asking the road to sweet Carnloch Bay.

On Egypt’s banks, contagious to the Nile
The auld Pharaoh’s daughter, she went to bathe in style
She took her dip and she came unto the land
And to dry her royal pelt she ran along the strand
A bulrush tripped her whereupon she saw
A smiling babby in a wad of straw
She took him up and says she in accents mild
“Oh tar-an-a-gers, now me girls, which one of yis owns the child?”

She took him up and she gave a little grin
For she and Moses were standing in their skin
“Bedad now” says she “it was someone very rude
Left a little baby by the river in his nude.”
She took him to her auld lad sitting on the throne
“Da,” says she, “will you give the boy a home?”
“Bedad now,” says he, “sure I’ve often brought in worse.
Go my darling daughter and get the child a nurse.”

An auld blackamore woman among the crew
Cried out, “You royal savage, what’s that to do with you?
Your royal ladies is too meek and mild
To beget dishonestly this darling little child.”
“Ah then,” says the Pharaoh, “I’ll search every nook
From the Phoenix Park down to Donnybrook
And when I catch a hoult of the bastards father
I will kick him from the Nile down to the Dodder.”

Well they sent a bellman to the market square
To see if he could find a slavey there
But the only one now that he could find
Was the little young one that left the child behind
She came up to the Pharaoh, a stranger, mareyah
Never lettin’ on that she was the baby’s ma
And so little Moses got his mammy back
Which shows that co-in-ci-dence is a nut to crack.

As I went out one morning,
going to Dungarven fair
I spied a pretty maiden
with the sunlight in her hair
Her way was so delightful,
her voice rang like a bell
And as I overtook her,
I asked if she was well

Lay down your woollen shawl my love.
I swear it is no joke
I’ll tell to you the story,
of the Old Dungarven Oak

As we approached Dungarven,
the girl at me did stare
She asked me why I raised my hat,
to a tree so old and bare
I told her of the legend,
f the tree should ere come down
There’d be a great disaster,
and Dungarven would be drowned

Lay down your woollen shawl my love.
I swear it is no joke
I’ll tell to you the story,
of the Old Dungarven Oak

Well, then she started laughing,
my face grew very red
She said that only fools believe,
what those old legends said
Her laughter was contagious,
now the truth to you I’ll tell
By the time we reached the market place,
I began to laugh as well

Lay down your woollen shawl my love.
I swear it is no joke
I’ll tell to you the story,
of the Old Dungarven Oak

As I sit here by my fireside,
’tis the autumn of my life
And the darling girl I met that day,
well she’s now my darling wife
We have a lovely daughter,
and a son to push our yoke
And it’s all because I raised my hat
to the Old Dungarven Oak

Lay down your woollen shawl my love.
I swear it is no joke
I’ll tell to you the story,
of the Old Dungarven Oak

Says my aul’ wan to your aul’ wan
“Will ye come to the Waxies dargle?”
Says your aul’ wan to my aul’ wan,
“Sure I haven’t got a farthing.
I’ve just been down to Monto town
To see uncle McArdle
But he half a crown
For to go to the Waxies dargle.”

Cho: What are ye having, will ye have a pint?
Yes, I’ll have a pint with you, sir,
And if one of us doesn’t order soon
We’ll be thrown out of the boozer.

Says my aul’ wan to your aul’ wan
“Will ye come to the Galway races?”
Says your aul’ wan to my aul’ wan,
“With the price of my aul’ lad’s braces.
I went down to Capel Street
To the Jew man moneylenders
But they wouldn’t give me a couple of bob on
My aul’ lad’s suspenders.”

Says my aul’ wan to your aul’ wan
“We have no beef or mutton
But if we go down to Monto town
We might get a drink for nuttin'”
Here’s a piece of good advice
I got from an aul’ fishmonger:
“When food is scarce and you see the hearse
You’ll know you have died of hunger.

Gypsy rover, come over the hill,
down through the valley so shady
He whistled and he sang til the green woods rang
and he won the heart of a lady

Ah dee doo ah dee doo da day,
ah dee doo ah dee day dee
He whistled and he sang til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a lady

She left her fathers castle gate,
she left her own fine lover
She left her servants and her state,
to follow the gypsy rover

Ah dee doo ah dee doo da day,
ah dee doo ah dee day dee
He whistled and he sang til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a lady

Her father saddled up his fastest stead,
roamed the valleys all over
Sought his daughter at great speed
and the whistling gypsy rover

Ah dee doo ah dee doo da day,
ah dee doo ah dee day dee
He whistled and he sang til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a lady

He came at last to a mansion fine,
down by the river Clady
And there was music and there was wine,
for the gypsy and his lady

Ah dee doo ah dee doo da day,
ah dee doo ah dee day dee
He whistled and he sang til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a lady

He is no gypsy, my father,
she said, but lord of these lands all over
And I will stay til my dying day,
with my whistling gypsy rover

Ah dee doo ah dee doo da day,
ah dee doo ah dee day dee
He whistled and he sang til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a lady

Thunder and lightning is no lark
When Dublin City is in the dark
So if you’ve any money, go up to the park
And view the Zoological Gardens

We went out there to see the zoo
We saw the lion and the kangaroo
There was he-males and she-males of every hue
Up in the Zoological Gardens

We went out there by Castleknock
Says she to me “Sure, we’ll court on the Lough”
Then I knew she was one of the rare old stock
From outside the Zoological Gardens

We went up there on our honeymoon
Says she to me “If you don’t come soon
I’ll have to get in with the hairy baboon”
Up in the Zoological Gardens

Says she to me “It’s seven o’clock
And time for me to be changin’ me frock
For I long to see the old cockatoo”
Up in the Zoological Gardens

Says she to me “Me lovely Jack
Sure I’d love a ride on the elephant’s back
If you don’t get out of that I’ll give you such a crack”
Up in the Zoological Gardens

Oh, thunder and lightning is no lark
When Dublin City is in the dark
So if you’ve any money go up to the park
And view the Zoological Gardens