Jesse Oris Farrow
You poison my sweet waters you cut down my green trees
And the food you feed my children is the cause of their ill disease
Our world is slowly falling and the air is not fit to breathe
And those of us who care enough we’ve got to do something
Our newspapers they’re just having us on
They never tell us the whole story
They just put our young ideas down
I was just wondering if this was the end of our power and glory
I worked in your factories I studied in your schools
I lingered in your prison in your unemployment too
I can feel the future trembling as the word gets passed around
If you stand up for what you believe in be prepared to be shot down
What will you do about me?
What will you do about me?
I feel like a stranger in the land where I was born
I feel like an outlaw always on the run
You’ve got me always on the run
Your soldiers break the laws you make you don’t put them behind bars
Most of what you teach them to do is against your very own laws
We are fugitives from injustice we are going to be free
Plastic bullets and internment don’t do the things we need
I know that you are the stronger now but my time will come around
You keep adding to my numbers as you shoot my people down
I can feel the future trembling as the word gets passed around
We will stand up for what we believe in we are prepared to be shot down
Christy Moore
I was over on the Mainland
Doing me act in some old civic hall
It was the night before we stormed the hackney empire
My adrenaline got pumpin’ when the crowd demanded more
I couldn’t sleep a wink
So I turned on to the BBC World Service
Comin’ at me from New Delhi
Or some other long lost Colonial shore
When a lovely English man came on the wireless
With a gorgeous, sweet dulcet Portland placed clipped tone
He announced that the winner
Of the 1995 Nobel Prize for Literature
Was a British poet
“Séamus Heaney from Londonderry”, sez he
As cool as cool could be
So I roared out for tea and toasted muffins
And a pair of hard-boiled eggs to calm my nerves
You never claimed George Best nor Alex Higgins
Nor you never claimed Bellaghy’s other boys
But that’s the way things are upon the Mainland
Where the Quarehawks are still sucking
The wee small birds’ eggs dry.
I was over on the mainland
Doing me act in some old civic hall
Christy Moore
There’s thirty people on the bridge and they’re standing in the rain
They caught my eye as I passed them by, they tried to explain
Why they were standing there, I did not want to hear
When trouble gets too close to home, my anger turns to fear
With my eyes turned to the ground I moved along
I covered up my ears and I held my tongue
The rain poured down relentlessly upon the picket line
And the empty words fell from my lips, “Your troubles are not mine”
Though the rain it made the colours run the message it was plain
Women are being strip searched in Armagh jail
We kneel in adoration before effigies of stone
Our eyes turned to heaven blind to what’s going on
Six women hold a naked woman pinned down on the floor
Without trial or jury, like a prisoner of war
Though the rain it made the colours run the message it was plain
Women are being strip searched in Armagh and Brixton Jail
Mick Hanly
The truth comes as hard as the cold rain
On my face in the heat of a storm
The stories I’m hearing the shock me
To believe that such deeds can go on
You can starve men and take all their clothing
You can beat them up till they fall
You can break the bodies but never the spirit
Of the men on the blanket
The truth should be told so I’ll tell it
It all began five years ago
Kieran Nugent refused to be branded
And refused to wear prison clothes
They threw him in naked to H-Block
And spat out their filthy abuse
And left him awake till the cold light of day
With only a blanket
England your sins are not over
The H-Blocks still stand in your name
And though many voices have cried out to you
It is still your shame
And if we stay silent we’re guilty
While these men lie naked and cold
In the H-Block tonight remember the fight
Of the men on the blanket
For four years this man and his comrades
In shameful conditions did lie
From Dublin indifference and silence
From London contempt undisguised
Though life to these men was precious
A hunger strike protest began
To try to move the hearts of the tyrants who keep
The men on the blanket
How angry the March winds were blowing
As Prisoners of War made their call
With deals and false promises broken
How many more young men must fall?
The people have raised up their voices
The world cries for justice in vain
To end the cruel fortune and the lives to regain
Of the men on the blanket
Tonight as I stand here in Sligo
My heart filled with sorrow and shame
In mourning for young Martin Hurson
His body laid out in Tyrone
This young man had so much to live for
His dying must not be in vain
As we stand here tonight remember the fight
Of the men on the blanket
Author Unknown
When first I landed in Liverpool I went upon the spree
My money at last I spent it fast I got as drunk as drunk could be
When my money it was all spent it was then that I wanted more
A man must be blind to make up his mind to go to sea once more
Once more boys once more
To go to sea once more
A man must be blind to make up his mind
To go to sea once more
As I was walking through Liverpool I met with Angeline
She said to me come home with me and we’ll have a cracking good time
When I awoke it was no joke for I was all on my own
My silver watch and my money too and all of my gear was gone
A boarding master picked me up his name was Shanghai Browne
I asked him would he take me on and he looked at me with a frown
The last time that you sailed with me you never chalked no score
I’ll take a chance, give you an advance, and send you to sea once more
So I shipped on board a clipper ship bound for the Arctic Sea
Where the cold winds blow mid the ice and snow and Jamaica rum would freeze
And worse to bear I’d no hard weather gear for I’d spent all my money no shore
It was then that I wished I was dead so I’d go to sea no more
Sometimes we’re catching the big sperm whales sometimes we’re catching none
A twenty-foot oar stuck in my paw and pulling the whole day long
When the daylights gone and the night comes on I rest upon my oar
Boys oh boys I wished I was dead or snug with the girls on the shore
Come all you bold sea-faring boys who listen to my song
When you come off them long long trips I’d have you not go wrong
Take my advice drink no strong drink don’t go drinking with them whores
Get married instead sleep in your own bed and go to sea no more
Woody Guthrie
Come gather round me people and a story I will tell,
About Pretty Boy Floyd the outlaw, Oklahoma knew him well.
In the town of Shawnee all on a Saturday afternoon,
With his wife beside him in the truck as into the town he rode.
There a deputy approached him in a manner very rude,
Using vulgar language that his wife she overheard.
Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain and the deputy grabbed his gun,
In the fight that followed he laid the deputy down.
He took to the woods and mountains of the Canadian river shore,
Pretty Boy found a welcome at many a poor farmer’s door.
He took to the woods and mountains and led a life of shame,
Every crime in Oklahoma was added to his name.
There is many starving farmer the same old story told,
How Pretty Boy paid their mortgage and saved their little homes.
More speak about a strange man who came to beg a meal,
And underneath his napkin left a thousand dollar bill.
In the town of Shawnee all on a Christmas day,
There came a car filled with groceries and a message that did say.
“You say I am an outlaw, you say I am a thief,
Here’s a Christmas dinner for the children on relief.”
As round the world I travel I’ve met all kinds of men,
Some rob you with a six gun, some with a fountain pen.
But as round the world I travel and round the world I roam,
I’ve yet to see an outlaw drive a family from their home.
Woody Guthrie
The peaches are in and the crops they lie rotten
The oranges are stacked in their creosote dumps
They’re driving us back to the Mexican border
It takes all of our money to go back again
Farewell to my friends, goodbye Rosalita
Adios mes amigos, Jesus e Maria
You won’t have a name when you ride the big aeroplane
All they will call you will be deportee
Some of us are illegal and most are not wanted
Our work contracts and we must move on
The six hundred miles to the Mexican border
They drive us like outlaws like rustlers like thieves
My fathers own father he crossed the river
You took all the money he made in his life
My sisters and brothers worked in your fruit field
Rode in your trucks till they lay down and died
The sky plane caught fire o’er the Los Gatos valley
Like a fireball of lightning it plunged to the ground
Who are these friends lying round like dead leaves?
The radio said they were just deportees
They died in your hills they died in your valleys
They died on your mountains they died on your plains
They died neath your trees and they died in the bushes
Both sides of the border they died just the same
The Handsome Family
When They close down the last shopping Mall
Crickets will sing through crumbling walls
termites will eat through the doors
as rabbits hop round the shop floors
empty shelves will swarm with bees
cash machines will sprout weeds
lizards will crawl across the parking lot
as birds fly around empty shops
There will be Peace in the valley once again
Wild flowers will grow up the mannequins
painting them with a leafy skin
their plastic eyes will fall to the floor
to be gathered by wild boar
Mirrors will crack in half
as wild horses gallop past
wild doves will build their nests
on the escalator steps
There will be Peace in the valley once again
Connolleys of Leap (nr Skibbereen) of a grand Summers evening.We arrived into this music house where we were welcomed and given the best seats in the house- (2 big armchairs at the front of the balcony). We had never heard The Handsome Family before and it was a memorable night for us. I recommend their work. Google them.
Patrick was a Gentleman
He came from daycent people
He built a church in Dublin town
And on it put a steeple
His father was a Gallagher
His mother was a Grady
His aunt was an O’Shaughnessy
His uncle was a Brady
The Wicklow hills are very high
And so is the hill of Howth sir
But there’s a hill much higher still
Much higher than them both sir
On top of this high hill
St Patrick preached a sermon
Drove the frogs into the bogs
And banished all the vermin
There’s not a mile of Eireann’s Isle
Where dirty vermin musters
But there he put his dear fore-foot
And murdered them in clusters
The frogs went hop and the toads went pop
Slapdash into the water
The snakes committed suicide
To save themselves from slaughter
900,000 reptiles blue
He charmed with sweet discourses
Dined on them in Killaloe
On soups and second courses
Where blind worms crawling in the grass
Disgusted all the nation
Down to hell with a holy spell
He changed their situation
No wonder that them Irish lads
Should be so gay and frisky
Sure St. Pat he taught them that
As well as making whiskey
No wonder that the Saint himself
Should understand distilling
His mother kept a sheebeen shop
In the town of Enniskillen
Was I but so fortunate
As to be back in Munster
I’d be bound that from that ground
I never more would once stir
There St Patrick planted turf
Cabbages and praties
Pigs galore, mo grá, mo stoir
Altar boys and ladies.
Traditional
It bein’ on a monday morning, it bein’ our pay day
We met Sergeant Jenkins at our goin’ away
He says to Pat Reilly “You are a handsome young man
Will you come to John Kelly’s where we will set a dram”
And while we sat there boozin’ and drinkin’ our dram
He says to Pat Reilly “You are a handsome young man
I’d have you take the bounty and come along with me
To the sweet County Longford, strange faces there you’ll see”
“Oh no kind sir, a soldier’s life with me would not agree
Nor neither would I bind myself down from my liberty
For I lived as happy as a prince, my mind does tell me so
So fare thee well, I’m just goin’ down, my ?shatter for to thow?
“Oh are you in a hurry, are you goin’ away?
Or won’t you stop and listen to these words I’m goin’ to say
Perhaps now Pat Reilly, you might do something worse
Than to leave your native country and enlist in the Black Horse”
Oh it’s I took the bounty, the reckoning was paid
The ribbons were brought out, me boys, and into my cockade
It’s early the next morning we all were made to stand
Before our grand general with hats all in our hands
He says to Pat Reilly “You are a little too low
With some other regiment I fear you have to go”
“I may go where I will, I have no-one to mourn
For my mother is dead, me boys, and never will return”
It’s not in the morning that I sing this song
But it’s in the cold evening as I march alone
With me gun o’er my shoulder I bitterly do weep
When I think of my true love that now lies fast asleep
My blessing on my mother that reared me neat and clean
But bad luck to my father that made me serve the queen
Oh had he been an honest man and learned to me my trade
I would never have enlisted nor worn the cockade
Dominic Behan
I’ve won a heroes name with McAlpine and Costain
With Fitzpatrick, Murphy, Ashe and Wimpey’s gang
I’ve been often on the road on my way to draw the dole
When there’s nothing left to do for Sir John Laing
I used to think that God made the mixer pick and hod
So that Paddy might know hell above the ground
I’ve had gangers big and tough tell me tear it all out rough
When you’re building up and tearing England down
In a tunnel underground a young Limerick man was found
He was built into the new Victoria Line
When the pouring gang had past sticking through the concrete cast
Was the face of little Charlie Joe Devine
And the ganger man McGurk big Paddy ate the work
When the gas main burst and he flew off the ground
Oh they swear he said “Don’t slack, I’ll not be here until I’m back”
Keep on building up and tearing England down
I remember Carrier Jack with his hod upon his back
How he swore he’d one day set the world on fire
But his face they’ve never seen since his shovel it cut clean
Through the middle of a big high tension wire
I saw auld Bald McGann from the big flyover fall
Into a concrete mixer spinning round
Although his life was spent he got a fine head of cement
As he was building up and tearing England down
I was on the hydro dam the day that Pat McCann
Got the better of his stammer in a week
He fell from the shuttering jam and that poor auld stuttering man
He was never ever more inclined to speak
No more like Robin Hood will he roam through Cricklewood
Or dance around the pubs of Camden Town
But let no man complain Paddy does not die in vain
When he’s building up and tearing England down
So come all you navvies bold who think that English gold
Is just waiting to be taken from each sod
Or that the likes of you and me could ever get an OBE
Or an knighthood for good service to the hod
They’ve the concrete master race to keep you in your place
The ganger man to kick you to the ground
If you ever try to take part of what the bosses make
When they’re building up and tearing England down
Floyd Red Crow Westerman
My soul is in the mountain
My heart is in the land
I’m lost here in the city
There’s so much I don’t understand.
There’s quiet desperation coming over me,
Coming over me.
I’ve got to leave I can’t stay another day
There’s an emptiness inside of me,
I can’t bear the loneliness out here
There’s another place I’ve got to be.
I long for you, Dakota
The smell of sweet grass on the plain
I see too much meanness
And I feel too much pain.
And there’s quiet desperation coming over me,
Coming over me.
I’ve got to leave I can’t stay another day
There’s an emptiness inside of me
I can’t bear the loneliness out here
There’s another place I’ve got to be.
Christy Moore
Listen for a while
And I’ll tell you the story
of how I fell in love with The Rose Of Tralee
It was about five o’clock in the morning
I was only after gettin’ off the mail boat.
I was walking down the North Wall
Minding me own business
With me suitcase under me arm
Sitting down every minute
‘Til a voice behind me went
Hello, hello, hello
Where do you think you’re going
at this hour of the morning?
I turned around
And who do you think was standin’ behind me
Only the Rose of Tralee
And she wearin’ a grand new blue Ban Garda’s uniform
I thought she was a super
How’s it going there Rose
Jasus girleen the last time I saw you
was down below there in The Dome
upstairs in the tent with Gaybo in the Pretty Polly tights
And all them beauty queens from
Tashkent, Istanbul, Bangkok and Liverpool and………..
How’s she cuttin there Rose…
Can you account for your movements sez she
Ah Rose, there’s no need to be like that
But I can give you all the movements you want
You’d better sharpen your pencil
You’re goin’ to be busy little woman
Christy’s got a memory like a super-grass
I can remember things that never happened at all,
The first thing I can remember
Is the 7th of May 1945
At the back of Donnelly’s Hollow
The night before
Pa Connolly drove the Roadstone lorry
Into the Seven Springs
And St. Brigid started rollin’ out the Tintawn
Across the Curragh of Kildare
Then I woke up one morning
It was after gettin conscripted into the altar boys
I was ringin the bells and swingin the thurible
Sure the smell of the incense
Would remind you of the inside of an Arab’s tent
And no sign of Ghaddafi nowhere
In those days Down in Newbridge Co. Kildare
An altar boy would get a pound for a funeral
Two pound for a wedding
And a good kick up in the arse
If he didn’t put enough wine in the chalice at the early mass.
Ah!”Ita Missa Est” says Rose
“Gloria Tibi Domine” says I
I didn’t know you had to have the Latin
To get into Templemore
I love to hear the old bit of Latin
The old Tridentine
“Kyrie Eleison”
I can’t stand them Folk Masses
All them trendy priests trippin’ over each other
To sing ballads at half time in the Bingo
Sure the Nine First Fridays never killed anyone
Well! The next thing I knew, Rose
I was servin’ me time to be
A corner boy up in the Curragh Camp
I was trying to teach the sheep how to talk Irish
Then I got a job selling lambs balls to mushroom farmers
that couldn’t afford horseshite
One day I was walkin’ across the Curragh of Kildare
And I fell into an officer’s mess
I ended up in the F.C.A.
Squarebashin’ around the wet canteen
Until the commanding officer heard
That me Granny once confessed
To a fellow whose Sister’s brother in law was
Married to a man whose first cousin used to fill
Hot water bottles for Patrick Sarsfield before the Battle of Clongorey
I had to go on the run.
Gubu Gubu *Gubu Gubu
I ran so fast that I ended up in Paddington
A million miles away from The Land Of saints and scholars
I was:
Diggin’ Footins Scrapin’ Pots
Pullin’ cable Startin’ Drotts
Boilin’ Kettles Makin’ Tea
Diggin’ Deep Rose and Thrown Away
I was a disposable Paddy servin’ me time to be a
Co-Pilot on a kango hammer in Shepherd’s Bush
Doin’ 86 MPH on a JCB down the Kilburn High Road
When the SPG flagged me down and held me under the PTA
Until I got away and went underground with the Green Murphy
One Thursday night I was headin’ down the Hammersmith Broadway
I met a friend of mine from Ballaghadereen in the Co. Roscommon
Who was a demolition expert – Georgian houses were his speciality
Any chance for a start? What would you know about demolition?
(I’ve been well known to demolish a rake of large bottles)
Well, Monday mornin’ came
Myself, Roger Sherlock, Liam Farrell,Martin Byrnes, Raymond Roland , Tony Rohr
We was paintin’ a door
We gave her six coats and three coats more- that was just the undercoat
The ganger was fond of a tune-thursday never came too soon
We were gettin’ five pounds a day and all we could eat
But it’s an awful job tryin’ to eat all day
To make a long story short, Rose
I went lookin’ for digs
I went up and knocked at the door,this big English woman comes out,
took one look at me and she went
Get away from my door sez she
There’ll be absolutely no blacks nor paddies gettin’ in here.’
So I let on I was a white South African
And I tried to join the British Army to better myself
I volunteered as sub-contractor buildin’ houses with no doors nor handles on them
The recruiting officer says to me
‘What ye bin doin’ lately then, Paddy?
I was helpin’ O’Brien to shift it, Sir, says I
Before that I was spreadin’ the toxic all over the Golden Vale
Helpin’ Mr. Gallagher cover Stephen’s Green in concrete Sir
Helpin’ Sam Stevenson block all the daylight out of Dublin
Helpin’ Dr. Smurfit relocate the Liffey
Helpin’ Lord O’Reilly to count the golden beans
I was dolin’ out the Diddly-Eye for Dr. Darragh
Puttin in the bugs for Cathaoirleach
Vacuum packin’ T-Bone steaks for Larry Maith an Fear
Seekin’ out the heart of the Green Core.
Bejasus Paddy you’re overqualified for the British Army
I’m afraid I’ll have to deport you out of England.
And he did……Total Exclusion
Here I am, Rose ar ais arís
This is some welcome for a returned emmigrant
Céad Míle Failte my arse
With your pioneer pin and your fainne and your white star for not cursing
Jaysus, it would be more in your line to give me a lift in the squad car into town
And she did.
There wew were Cruisin’ down Capel Street in the White Squad
Looking for the Early Morning House
Will ye look Rose There’s Paddy Slattery.
‘You’re welcome home, Christy’, says Paddy
Big Slate!
‘I suppose you and your girlfriend are looking for a drink’
Well, off came the cap.
She flung it into the back seat of the squad
And in with her like a bat out a hell (left right, left right)
‘I’ll have a Brandy with a small drop of Port I never drink pints when I’m on duty’
Brandy and Port!
T’was like throwin’ water into a barrel of sawdust
She lowered it up and of course……….No wallet
Roll on the Holy Hour’, says I
I’ll see you tonight sez she ’twill be my twist’
Ladies and Gentlemen there I was outside the GPO waitin for The most beautiful Kerry woman in the whole wide world
Here she comes, Holy Mother of Sweet Divine Jesus in Heaven would you ever look at that?
Sashaying down the Boulevardin her Doc’s and her 501’s
Hey Rose!….. Over here……..
‘What’s on your mind big fellah’ says she to me
(I was wearin me platforms)
I wouldn’t mind a bit of a dance, Rose
She took me to a disco in the Gardai club in Harcourt Street
Le Baton Rouge………A tidy little spot up Harcourt Street
Watch out for the quadruple parking, bald tyres and no tax discs
In there.. Wall to wall moustaches, gay bikers on acid
Myself and the Rose of Tralee danced the night away
Until about five O’clock in the morning when says she to me
‘Fancy comin’ back to my place then Lofty?’
Does a bear shite in the woods?
Away with us, me hangin out of her on the back of the Honda50
Up through Rathmines and Rathgar into Ranelagh,
Pullin into the 24-7 open 9-11, 6 days a week,
Two donor kebabs and the Leinster Leader,
Up to her place then Two up, two down,
She pulled the cork out of the Blue Nun
And I got sick all over the Rottweiler
And she put some music onLovely new CD…… Daniel
“Oh then fare thee well sweet Donegal
The Roses and Gweedore”
Oh Rose. Oh Daniel
Ah Here,I suppose a rasher sandwich is out of the question?
That’s how I met up with The Roseof Tralee
*Grotesque -Unbelievable- Bizarre -Unprecedented
I wrote this song for the Eurovision song contest circa 1987.I got fitted out for the suit and syrup, Louis was to groom me but stood me up,Jim Hand(R.I.P) gave me some tips on Euro protocol but it was all in vain..I never even got the courtesy of a rejection slip.Subsequently I finally managed to record my meister opus on the album KING PUCK but it was written for the big occasion and never took off as it should have done. I heard a report that it was played on the wireless once but I’ve never had that fact confirmed.
If you can work it out please let me know
Nigel Rolfe/Christy Moore
And Rory’s gone,
To play the blues in heaven.
Above the clouds,
With all the angels singing there.
His records scratched,
Like his beaten-up old Fender,
But the songs are strong,
And the notes hang in the air.
Gone with Steve Ray,
And Jessie Ed Davis.
They died too young,
And much too premature.
Another rock’n’roller,
Gone but not forgotten,
As his old guitar still mourns and plays,
And wails and screams the blues.
It sings for Mississippi Fred,
And Muddy Waters,
Son House, Sleepy John,
And the Nighthawk too.
Blacks, whites, blues and greens,
All the colours mixed together
Now Rory’s gone to Heaven.
Since Rory’s gone to Heaven,
To play the blues.
And Rory’s gone to play,
The blues in Heaven,
And Rory’s gone to Heaven,
To play the blues.
Trad.
In the merry month of June all from my home I started
Left the girls in Tuam sad and broken hearted
Saluted me father dear, kissed my darling mother
Drank a pint of beer my grief and tears to smother
Then off to reap the corn, leave where I was born
I cut a stout blackthorn to banish ghost and goblin
In a brand new pair of brogues rattled o’er the bogs, frightened all the dogs
On the rocky road to Dublin
One two three four five
Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road and all the way to Dublin
Whack fol oll di da.
In Mullingar that night I rested limbs so weary
Started by daylight next morning bright and early
Took a drop of the pure to keep me heart from sinkin’
That’s the paddy’s cure whenever he’s on for drinkin’
To see the lassies smile, laughin’ all the while
At me curious style, t’would set your heart a bubblin’
Asked if I was hired wages I required I was bloody well tired
Of the rocky road to Dublin
In Dublin next arrived I thought it such a pity
To be so soon deprived a view of that fine city
Then I took a stroll all among the quality
My bundle it was stolen in a neat locality
Something crossed me mind, I should look behind
No bundle could I find upon me stick a wobblin’
Inquiring for the rogue said me Connacht brogue wasn’t much in vogue
On the rocky road to Dublin
I soon got out of that me spirits never failin’
Landed on the quay just as my ship was sailin’
Captain at me roared said that no room had he
When I jumped aboard a cabin he found for Paddy
Down among the pigs played some funny rigs
Danced some hearty jigs the walls around me bubblin’
When at Holyhead wished myself was dead, better far instead
On the rocky road to Dublin
The boys of Liverpool when we were safely landed
They called me a fool I could no longer stand it
Me blood began to boil temper I was losin’
Poor old Eireanns Isle they began abusing
Hurrah me soul sez I shillelagh I let fly
Galway boys were by they saw that I was a hobblin’
Then with loud hurray joined in the affray quickly cleared the way
For the rocky road to Dublin
Author Unknown
Come all you loyal heroes wherever you may be
Don’t hire with any master till you know what your work may be
Don’t hire with any master from the clear daylight till the dawn
For he’ll want you rising early to plough the rocks of Bawn
My shoes they are well worn and my stockings they are thin
My auld coat sure it’s threadbare now and I’m leaking to the skin
But I’ll rise us in the morning from the clear daylight till dawn
Then I will be able to plough up the rocks of Bawn
Me curse attend you Sweeney for you have me nearly robbed
You’re sitting by the fireside with your feet upon the hob
You’re sitting by the fireside from the clear daylight till dawn
And you know you’ll not be able to plough the rocks of Bawn
Oh rise up there lovely Sweeney and give yer horse some hay
And give him a good feed of oats before you start the day
Don’t feed him on soft turnips take him down to your green lawn
And then you might be able to plough the rocks of Bawn
I wish that the Queen of England would write to me in time
And place me in a regiment all in me youth and prime
I’d fight for Ireland’s glory from the clear daylight till dawn
And I never would return again to plough the rocks of Bawn
Christy Moore
I was riding the high stool, expandin’ and expoundin’,
On the price of rice in Sierra Leone and the height of the beef mountain.
As to where did Jack Doyle meet Movita. How many wives did the Aga Khan.
Dismountin’ from my high horse, I couldn’t find the handle of the bar room door!
Yeah sure I knew it all then up again’ the counter,
I’d weigh you up in ten seconds flat.
Ya see I was a great judge of character, my instincts always tellin’ me exactly what kinda guy I got.
‘Til I turned to go that is, whereupon I couldn’t tell my arse from my well-bent elbow.
I was heading down the streets of Laredo singin’ Red Sails in the Sunset,
Sure it was no wonder, we knew it all then.
Twas like drinkin’ porter off a sore leg sez Ber Murphy.
“Would ye ever ask me bollix”, sez Kenny Barry.
I showed them the colour of me money when I got back from Katanga,
There’s no business like show business sez Titch Maher in Flood’s bar.
After snaggin’ turnips for the Holy Fathers,
But after it got dark, much later; down by the pinkeen bridge. I cried buckets in the river,
When Mickser sang “Oh gentle Swallows”…….oh gentle swallows
For knowin’ it all is a lonely place to be. Yet still I found it very hard to say,
“Hey man, this load is too much for me, til I was completely terrified.
Whereupon a light ship came upon my way, and caught me in its beam.
Before I went under, yet again, for the very last time.
I was ridin’ the high stool, expandin’ and expoundin’.
Swimming in the wine lakes and climbing the beef mountains.
Ridin’ the high stool expandin’ and expoundin’,
On the price of rice in Siera Leone and the height of the beef mountain.
Ridin’ the high stool expandin’ and expoundin’….
Jimmy MacCarthy
Cm Ab
True you ride the finest horse I have ever seen,
Bb Cm
Standing sixteen, one or two. With eyes wild and green,
Cm Ab
And you ride the horse so well, hands light to the touch,
Bb Cm
I could never go with you no matter how I wanted to.
CHORUS (Two times)
Cm Ab Bb
Ride on, see you, I could never go with you
Cm
No matter how I wanted to.
Cm Ab
When you ride in to the night without a trace behind,
Bb Cm
Run your claw along my gut one last time.
Cm Ab
I turn to face an empty space where once you used to lie,
Bb
And look for a spark that lights the night
Cm
Through a teardrop in my eye.
CHORUS
Sorry no essay at present.
Whole song is arpeggiated Am-F-G-Am.
Solo part is:
e———————————————————————
b———————————————————————
g—————————2—5–4–5–2—————————-
d————————2——————-2–0———–0–2——
a———–2–0–2–3—————————–3–2–3——–0—
e—0/sl/5————————————————————
Barry Moore
Remember the brave ones with the blackened face
Digging the trenches for the human race
Remember the brave ones with sandy eyes
Storming the beach head hear the battle cry
Mow them down
The European fields and the coastal sands
Ran wet and warm where warriors had spilled
The Christian sacrifice must never happen again
The search began to find a cleaner way to kill
Remember the brave ones who flew the skies
Dropping their gifts down in the passers-by
Deliver to London and to Dresden town
Let the buildings and rubble be their sleeping gown
Blow them up
The European fields and the coastal sands
Ran wet and warm where warriors had spilled
The Christian sacrifice must never happen again
The search began to find a cleaner way to kill
Remember the brave ones when the button is down
In an office in Moscow or Washington
And the faceless features of a child unborn
To a civilisation that wouldn’t learn
To forget the brave ones and let them lie
Let their death moan be a warning cry
Of a battle that burns up like a million suns
Where there are no heroes and there are no brave ones
Colm Gallagher
C F D G
As I was walkin’ home one evenin’ I know this takes some believin’,
C F G F
I met a group of creatures with the strangest lookin’ features.
C D
A poor old dog with a worm and a weed and a fine old pigeon, yes indeed,
C F C G C
Daddy Longlegs jumped up sprightly and danced a reel of the flickering light.
CHORUS
C F
Oh, round we go, heel to the toe,
C F
Daddy Longlegs jumped up sprightly,
C G C
And danced in the reel of the flickering light.
On his thin and wispy spindles he was deft and he was nimble,
His eyes were scientific and his dancin’ was terrific.
The rats and the worms they made a din and the nettles in the corner took it in,
‘Oh God’ sez I ‘tonight’s the night we’ll dance to the reel in the flickering light!’
CHORUS
Then he looked at me directly with a gaze that could dissect me,
And he asked me in a whisper ‘Have you got any sisters?’.
‘ Good God Almighty’ sez I to him ‘ What sort of a man do you think I am?
I’ve only one and she’s not your type, she wouldn’t dance a reel in the flickering light!’
CHORUS
Sez he ‘ Does she come from another planet? Does she have a bee in her bonnet?
Does she do her daily duties? You never know we might be suited’.
And the rats and the worms began to laugh and some of them started shufflin’ off.
We’re goin’ to have some fun tonight gettin’ ready for the reel in the flickering light.
CHORUS
I could see he had no scruples when I looked into his pupils,
They were purple or magenta like a statue during Lent.
I said ‘ I’ll get her right away’ ‘Good man’ sez he ‘now don’t delay,
We’re goin’ to have some fun tonight’. Then he flipped his legs in the flickering light.
CHORUS
Then up stepped a red carnation and they gave her an ovation.
She was warm and enchantin’ as she slowly started dancin’.
And the bright auld pigeon peeld his eye and the nettles and the weeds began to sigh,
Daddy Longlegs said ‘My, oh my, are we ready for the reel in the flickering light?
CHORUS
She was gentle, she was charmin’ and I heard him call her Darlin’.
He was graceful as a whisper on his delicate legs of silver.
And the rats and the worms were still as mice and the poor auld pigeon said ‘that’s nice’,
A shimmering veil of a lovely bride and they danced to the reel in the flickering light.
CHORUS X 2
From Mike Harding
When first from boyhood I came to a man
To ramble the nation through soon I began
Oh the ramblin’ thought that came into me mind
So they christened me Ramblin’ Robin oh,
So they christened me Ramblin’ Robin.
O’er hills and o’er mountains I used to go
I slept in the woods where there’s frost and there’s snow
No anxiety ever came into me mind
So contented was Ramblin’ Robin oh
So contented was Ramblin’ Robin
The wind and the rain oh they blew mw quite cold
Me parents at home they were both growing old
Oh me father did weep and me mother did cry
For the loss of their Ramblin’ Robin oh
For the loss of their Ramblin’ Robin
When sixteen long years they were over and past
Me poor mother’s sorrow was ended at last
And me father the nation did range through and through
Oh in search for his Ramblin’ Robin oh
Oh in search for his Ramblin’ Robin
When all me past follies they came to an end
To me own little village I did attend
Oh the neighbours they told me my parents were dead
Filled with grief for their Ramblin’ Robin oh
Filled with grief for their Ramblin’ Robin
Oh where shall I wander and where shall I go?
Me heart it is filled with sorrow and woe
Oh the nation I’ll wander through and through
And an end put to Ramblin’ Robin oh
And an end put to Ramblin’ Robin.
Trad Arr C. Moore
There were three auld gypsies came to our hall door.
They came brave and boldly-o.
And one sang high and the other sang low
And the other sang a raggle taggle gypsy-o.
It was upstairs, downstairs the lady went,
Put on her suit of leather-o,
And it was the cry all around her door;
“She’s away with the raggle taggle gypsy-o”
It was late that night when the lord came in,
Enquiring for his lady-o,
And the servant girl’s reply to him was;
“She’s away with the raggle taggle gypsy-o”
“Then saddle for me my milk-white steed
Me big horse is not speedy-o
And I will ride and I’ll seek me bride,
She’s away with the raggle taggle gypsy-o”
He rode east and he rode west
He rode north and south also,
And when he rode to the wide open field
It was there that he spied his lady-o.
“Arra, why did you leave your house and your land,
Why did you leave your money-o?
Why did you leave your only wedded lord
All for the raggle taggle gypsy-o?”
“Yerra what do I care for me house and me land?
What do I care for money-o?
What do I care for me only wedded lord?
I’m away with the raggle taggle gypsy-o”
“It was there last night you’d a goose feather bed,
Blankets drawn so comely-o.
But tonight you lie in a wide open field
In the arms of the raggle taggle gypsy-o”
“Yerra, what do I care for me goose feather bed?
Yerra, what do I care for blankets-o?
What do I care for me only wedded lord?
I’m away with the raggle taggle gypsy-o”
“Oh, for you rode east when I rode west,
You rode high and I rode low.
I’d rather have a kiss of the yellow gypsy’s lips
Than all the cash and money-o”
There are hundreds of versions of this one song. Two that come to mind are “Black Jack Davey”, as sung by Steeleye Span ,”Raggle-Taggle Gypsy” by The Waterboys and “Gypsy Davey” sung by Woody Guthrie.
Ewan McColl I met my love near Woolwich Pier beneath the big crane standing
And all the love I felt for her it passed all understanding
Took her sailing on the river, flow, Sweet River, flow
London town was mine to give her, sweet Thames flow softly
Made the Thames into a crown, flow, Sweet River, flow
Made a brooch of silver town, sweet Thames flow softly
At London yard I held her hand at Blackwall Point I faced her
At the Isle of Dogs I kissed her mouth and tenderly embraced her
Heard the bells of Greenwich ringing, flow, Sweet River, flow
All the time my heart was singing, sweet Thames flow softly
Limehouse Reach I gave her there, flow, Sweet River, flow
As a ribbon for her hair, sweet Thames flow softly
From Shadwell dock to Nine Elms Reach we cheek to cheek were dancing
Her necklace made from London Bridge her beauty was enhancing
Kissed her once again at Wapping, flow, Sweet River, flow
After that there was no stopping, sweet Thames flow softly
Gave her Hampton Court to twist, flow, Sweet River, flow
Into a bracelet for her wrist, sweet Thames flow softly
From Rotherhithe to Putney Bridge my love I was declaring
And she from Kew to Isleworth her love for me was swearing
Love it set my heart a-burning, flow, Sweet River, flow
Never saw the tide was turning, sweet Thames flow softly
Gave her Hampton Court to twist, flow, sweet river flow
Into a bracelet for her wrist, sweet Thames flow softly
But now alas the tide has changed my love she has gone from me
And winter’s frost has touched my heart and put a blight upon me
Creeping fog is on the river, flow, Sweet River, flow
Sun and moon and stars gone with her, sweet Thames flow softly
Swift the Thames flows to the sea, flow, Sweet River, flow
Bearing ships and part of me, sweet Thames flow softly.
Tom McGuinness/Hughie Flint Hm
A G A
Down by O’Connell street one summers evening
Hm A G A
I met a young woman, it was our first meeting
Hm A G A
Crossed over the bridge and down by the river
Hm A G A
By the strawberry beds I found that I knew her
G F#m E D G
She called me her darling man
G A G A
Hm A G A
We spend a few hours and we drank a few glasses
Hm A G A
We danced at the bar ignoring their glances
Hm A G A
Ev’ryone knew her name and they knew by my face
Hm A G A
With a beer in my hand and her arm round my waist
G F#m E D G
Calling me her darling man
G A G A
A D D4
The river runs deep, sweet music roll on
E D Hm E D D4
So the times are long gone, sweet music roll on
Hm A G A
Then came the morning and my boat was leaving
Hm A G A
She smiled as she said to me: “No point in grieving”
Hm A G A
Ev’ryonce in a while when I hear music playing
Hm A G A
I remember her smile and I hear her voice saying:
G F#m E D G
Calling me her darling man
G A G A
A D D4
The river runs deep, sweet music roll on
E D Hm E D D4
So the times are long gone, sweet music roll on
Ian Campbell G C G
The sun is burning in the sky,
G C D
Strands of clouds go slowly drifting by.
G C
In the park the dreamy bees are droning in the flowers among the trees
D G C G
And the sun burns in the sky.
Now the sun is in the west,
Little babes lie down to take their rest,
And the couples in the park are holding hands and waiting for the dark
And the sun is in the west.
Now the sun is sinking low,
Children playing know it’s time to go.
High above a spot appears, a little blossom blooms and then draws near
And the sun is sinking low.
Now the sun has come to earth
Shrouded in a mushroom cloud of death.
Death comes in a blinding flash of hellish heat and leaves a smear of ash
And the sun has come to earth.
Now the sun has disappeared
All that’s left is darkness, pain and fear.
Twisted sightless wrecks of men go crawling on their knees and cry in pain
And the sun has disappeared.
Pecker Dunne
Sullivans John to the road you’ve gone far away from your native home
You’re gone with the tinker’s daughter all along the road to roam
Sullivans John you won’t stick it long till your belly will soon get slack
You’ll be goin the road with a mighty load and your tool box up on your back
There is a horse fair in the county Clare in a place they call Spancilhill
Where my brother James got the rap of a hames and poor Johnny they tried to kill
They loaded him up on an auld ass and car all along the road to pass
Saying bad luck to the day that I went away to join with the tinker band
I met Kate Coffee with her neat baby behind on her back strapped on
She’d and auld ash plant all in her hand to drive her donkey on
Enquiring at every farmers door as on the road she’d pass
As to where she’d get and auld pot to mend or where she might swap an ass
Sullivans John to the road you’ve gone far away from your native home
You’re gone with the tinker’s daughter all along the road to roam
Sullivans John you won’t stick it long till your belly will soon get slack
You’ll be goin the road with a heavy load and your tool box up on your back
Noel Brazil Paddy maintains we’re all yellow inside; gun smoke got him and no mistake
Sez he wants his car on the road, he can’t even locate the brakes
He’d give his kingdom for a drink he would, he’d sell his mother like he sold his blood
Waiting for dole satisfies him, Paddy didn’t even learn how to swim
But you go crazy if you think about it, you don’t think about it
You suffocate..
Backs against the wall and let the building fall
It may not be the perfect life but its better than none at all
18 beats 21 you bet, it’s all just a gag john, no sweat
The old man says he still needs a hand and the neighbours only ever want cigarettes
Drinks in the evening, everybody’s emigrating
Or planning for it any way, oh it’s all the same old thing
But you go crazy if you think about it, you don’t think about it
You suffocate..
Backs against the wall and let the building fall
It may not be the perfect life but its better than none at all
Come out of your Celtic twilight kids; join the bums down here by the bank
We’re all having a rare aul time, put another drop of the juice in the tank
Rise there, Paddy, rise, forget your stupid pride
Oh the state of us, what the hell is happening?
It’s a hard life when grown men can’t afford the price of a packet of ten
But you go crazy if you think about it, you don’t think about it
You suffocate..
Backs against the wall and let the building fall
It may not be the perfect life but its better than none at all
Author Unknown
Oh the streams of Bunclody they flow down so free
By the streams of Bunclody I’m longing to be
a-drinking strong liquor in the height of my cheer
Here’s health to Bunclody and the lass I love dear
The cuckoo is a pretty bird, it sings as it flies
It brings us good tidings, and tells us no lies
It sucks the young birds’ eggs to make it’s voice clear
And the more it cries cuckoo the summer draws near
If I was a clerk and write a good hand
I would write to my true love that she might understand
For I am a young fellow who in love
Once I lived in Bunclody, but now must remove
If I was a lark and had wings and I could fly
I would fly to yon arbour where my true love she does lie
I’d fly to yon arbour where my true true love does lie
And on her fond bosom contented I would die
‘Tis why my love slights me, as you may understand
That she has a freehold and I have no land
She has great store of riches and a large sum of gold
And everything fitting a house to uphold
So fare you well father and my mother, adieu
My sister and brother farewell unto you
I am bound for America my fortune to try
When I think on Bunclody I’m ready to die
Christy Moore
There is a ring around the world
It ensnares the little Ones
As these priests and bishops fall
Innocence comes to an end.
Born of woman born through pain
In the shadow of a man
You are in me I am in you
It’s not always easy to understand
Strange Ways……God works in Strange Ways
Bless me father I have sinned
God the father of all things
You are my everlasting shame
God works in strange ways
Strange ways, God got owned in Strange ways
I wrote this for the children.
G…D
D..G
G..D
D..G
Christy Moore
A boat sailed out of Brandon in the year of 501
’twas a damp and dirty mornin’ Brendan’s voyage it began.
Tired of thinnin’ turnips and cuttin’ curley kale
When he got back from the creamery he hoisted up the sail.
He ploughed a lonely furrow to the north, south, east and west
Of all the navigators, St. Brendan was the best.
When he ran out of candles he was forced to make a stop,
He tied up in Long Island and put America on the map.
Did you know that Honolulu was found by a Kerryman,
Who went on to find Australia then China and Japan.
When he was touchin’ 70, he began to miss the crack,
Turnin’ to his albatross he sez “I’m headin’ back”.
To make it fast he bent the mast and built up mighty steam.
Around Terra del Fuego and up the warm Gulf Stream,
He crossed the last horizon, Mt. Brandon came in sight
And when he cleared the customs into Dingle for the night.
When he got the Cordon Bleu he went to douse the drought,
He headed west to Kruger’s* to murder pints of stout
Around by Ballyferriter and up the Conor Pass
He freewheeled into Brandon, the saint was home at last.
The entire population came (281) the place was chock-a-block
Love nor money wouldn’t get your nose inside the shop.
The fishermen hauled up their nets, the farmers left their hay,
Kerry people know that saints don’t turn up every day.
Everythin’ was goin’ great ’til Brendan did announce
His reason for returnin’ was to try and set up house.
The girls were flabbergasted at St. Bredan’s neck
To seek a wife so late in life and him a total wreck.
Worn down by rejection that pierced his humble pride,
“Begod”, sez Brendan “If I run I’ll surely catch the tide”
Turnin’ on his sandals he made straight for the docks
And haulin’ up his anchor he cast off from the rocks.
As he sailed past Inishvickallaun there stood the albatross
“I knew you’d never stick it out, ’tis great to see you boss”
“I’m bailin’ out” sez Brendan, “I badly need a break
A fortnight is about as much as any aul saint could take.”
CHORUS
“Is it right or left for Gibraltar”
“What tack do I take for Mizen Head?”
“I’d love to settle down near Ventry Harbour”,
St. Brendan to his albatross he said.
* – Kruger Kavanagh’s, the ‘Nearest pub to the States’
Author Unknown
St Patrick was a gentleman he came from dacent people
He built a church in Dublin Town and on it put a steeple
His father was a Gallagher his uncle was a Grady
His Aunt was an O’Shaughnessy and his mother was a Brady
The Wicklow hills are very high so is the hill of Howth sir
But there’s a hill much higher still much higher that them both sir
On the top of this high hill St. Patrick preached his sermon
He drove the frogs into the bogs and banished all the vermin
There’s not a mile on Erin’s Isle where dirty vermin mustered
But there he put his dear fore foot and murdered them in clusters
The toads went pop and the frogs went hop slap dash into the water
And the snakes committed suicide to save themselves from slaughter
A hundred thousand reptiles blue he charmed with sweet discourses
And he dined on them in Killaloe in soups and second courses
Where the blind worms crawling in the grass disgusted all the nation
Right down to Hell with a holy spell he changed their situation
No wonder that them Irish boys should be so gay and frisky
Sure St Pat he thought them that as well as making whiskey
No wonder that the saint himself should understand distilling
For his mother kept a shebeen shop near the town of Enniskillen
was I but so fortunate as to be back in Ulster
I’d be bound that from that ground I never more would once stir
For there St. Patrick planted turf and cabbages and praties
Pigs galore, mo gra, mo stor, altar boys and ladies
Author Unknown
As I went out by Dublin City at the hour of twelve at night
Who should I see but the Spanish lady washing her feet by candlelight
First she washed them then she dried them all by the fire of amber coal
In all my life I ne’er did see a maid so sweet about the sole
I asked her would she come out a walking and went on till the grey cocks crew
A coach I stopped then to instate her and we rode on till the sky was blue
Combs of amber in her hair were and her eyes knew every spell
In all my life I ne’er did see a woman who I could love so well
But when I came to where to I found her and set her down from the halted coach
Who was there with his arms folded but the fearful swordsman Tiger Roche
Blades were out twas thrust and cut never a man gave me more fright
Till I laid him dead on the floor where she stood holding the candlelight
So if you go to Dublin City at the hour of twelve at night
Beware of the girls who sit in their windows combing their hair in the candlelight
I met one and we went walkin I thought that she would be my wife
When I came to where I found her if it wasn’t for me sword I’d have lost me life
Traditional 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.
Ron Hynes
G
Sonny lives on a farm, in a wide open space
C G
Take off your shoes, stay out of the race
D
Lay down your head, on a soft river bed
C G D
Sonny always remembers the words Mamma says.
CHORUS
G
Sonny don’t go away, I’m here all alone
C G
Your Daddy’s a sailor, never comes home,
D
Nights are so long, silence goes on,
C G D
I’m feeling so tired and not all that strong.
Sonny works on the land, though he’s barely a man
There’s not much to do but he does what he can
Sits by his window in his room by the stairs
Watching the waves drifting soft on the pier.
CHORUS
Many years have rolled on, Sonny’s old and alone
His Daddy the sailor, never came home
Sometimes he wonders what his life might have been
But from the grave Mamma still haunts his dreams.
CHORUS
Here are the original lyrics to this song:
Sonny lives on a farm,on a wide open space
Where you take off your sneakers,and give up the race
And you can lay down your head, by the sweet river bed
But Sonny always remembers what it was his mamma said
Sonny carries a load but he’s barely a man
That ain’t all that you do, still he does what he can
And he watches the sea,from a room by the stairs
And the waves keep on rollin’, they’ve done that for years
CHORUS
Oh Sonny don’t go away,I am here all alone
And your daddy’s a sailor who never comes home
And the nights get so long,and the silence goes on
And I’m feeling so tired,I’m not all that strong…..
And it’s a hundred miles to town
Sonny’s never been there
And he goes to the highway and stands there and stares
And the mail comes at four
And the mailman is old
Oh.. but he still has his dreams,full of silver and gold….
Sonny’s dreams can’t be real, they’re just stories he’s read
They’re just stars in his eyes, they’re just dreams in his head
And he’s hungry inside for the wild world outside
And I know I can’t hold him
Though I tried and I tried and I tried……..
Thanks to Dave Roberts for the lyrics and tabs. Thanks also to Kevin Donahue for the background to this Newfoundland song.
Ron Hynes, the author, contacted me recently and informed me that the lyrics to his song are different than the ones Christy sings. I’ve added Ron’s original lyrics, too.
Sorry no Chords at present.
From Joe Heaney
I wish I had someone to love me
Someone to call my own
Someone to sleep with me nightly
I’m weary of sleeping alone
Meet me tonight in the moonlight
Meet me when we can be alone
I’ve a fine story to tell you
That I’ll tell by the light of the moon
If I had the wings of a swallow
I’d fly far over the sea
I’d fly to the arms of my true love
And bring her home safely with me
If I had ships on the ocean
I’d line them with silver and gold
I’d follow the ship that she sails in
My darling is eighteen years old
(From a different source)
If I had the wings of an eagle
O’er those prison walls I would fly
Fly into the arms of my darling
In there I would stay till I die
Meet me tonight in the moonlight
Meet me when you are alone
In this dreary cell I am pining
I’m weary of being alone