Johnny Mulhearn
(A)
matty went out on a frozen night
makin for the pub shoulders hunched up tight
head down on the railroad track
and his old cow Delia sad lowin him back
(A)
he met with a dark and a troubled man
as he passed him by called back at him
hey matty cant you see whats become of me
in this country of the blind
(B)
the house i’ve left is dead to me
to my rhymin and my poetry
all i’ve got is the beat of the stagger
as i’m headin down the curra line
(A)
matty passed on as quick as he could
he could’nt stand such a crooked man sober
all he wanted was the lights of the bar
the nightingale and the wild rover
(A)
the fear an tí eyed him steadily
as he handed him a pint of porter
sayin you must have seen the bishops ghost tonight
to put the dry look back in your eye
(A)
matty would not be takin in
by their jibin and regalin
he found himself a fresh blown crew
and fell in with their sportin and their balin
(B)
as he was goin home in the very same spot
he met with his dark familiar
he seen him comin back down the road
he was bright and sharp and fine
(A)
as he passed him by matty threw out his arms
and tried to grab hold of his likeness
in the morning all we found was his frozen corpse
at the butt of the curra line
(B)
at the wake they were lashin out
the drops of brandy,the auld fashioned habit
in the church they were lashin out pounds and fivers
so matty would be fine in the old bye and bye
I heard Johnny sing this song 25 years ago.The lyric I sing has changed a bit over the years. I have it on the “Ordinary man ” album of 1986.Johnny has also recorded the a version .This is one of my favourite songs. Johnny also wrote”Continental Ceili” “Delaneys gone back on the wine” and many other fine song.
chords
(A)
G…C.G.C..G.D.G.
(B)
D.GD.G.C.D.G.CDG.
Spillane/Wolfe/Lynch
There were magic nights in the lobby bar when Brendan Ring played Madame Bonaparte
And every note that the piper would play would send me away send me away.
Away through the window away in the rain over the city away on the air
To a field by a river where the trees are so green the deepest of green that you’ve ever seen
Where once you have been you can go back again you can go anytime you can go anytime
Because it’s only in your mind
There were magic nights in the lobby bar with Ricky Lynch and his golden guitar
Singin’ Autumn in Mayfield and the barley was ripe and the harvest moon was low in the sky
We were children our mothers were young and fathers were tall and kind
And every note Ricky Lynch would play would send me away send me away
Away through the window etc …
There were magic nights in the lobby bar when Ger Wolfe would sing like a lark
Singing Winter hung her coat on a hanger of dark
Singing I am the blood of Eireann spilled in a lonely cave and I am the flower of Ireland
Adrift on the ocean wave
I am the lark of Mayfield tumbling down the hill, I am the child of Summer I can remember you still,
And every note that Ger Wolfe would play would send me away send me away
Away through the window etc …
It was Autumn in Mayfield and the barley was ripe and the harvest moon was low in the sky
We were children our mothers were young and fathers were tall and kind
Joni Mitchell
Joanie was an unmarried girl just turned twenty-seven
when they sent her to the sisters because of the way men looked at her.
Branded as a jezebel she knew she was not bound for heaven,
she had been cast in shame into the Magdalen launderies.
Most girls went there pregnant some by their own fathers.
Bridget got her belly from the Parish Priest.
They’re trying to wash things as white as snow,all of those woe-begotten daughters
in the steaming stains of the Magdalen launderies.
Prostitutes and destitutes and temptresses like Joanie.
Fallen women sentenced into dreamless drudgery.
Why do the call this place Our Lady Of Charity?
Of Charity?
These bloodless brides of Jesus if they could just once glimpse their groom.
They’d drop the stones concealed behind their rosaries.
They wilt the grass they walk upon they leech the light out of a room.
They’d like to wash those girls down the drains of The Magdalene Launderies.
Peg O’Connell died today.She was a cheeky girl,they stuffed her in a hole.
Surely to God you’d think at least some bells should ring.
Joanie thinks she’ll die there too and that they’ll tramp her in the dirt,
like some lame bulb that never will bloom when the springtime comes.
when the springtime comes.
I sing this song to honour all the forgotten Innocents. I grew up and into a society that was riddled with the concept of sin and shame.We hung our heads in silence, ignorant in our adherence to the corrupt church that wielded such fearful power over us. I was terrified of them for a while.
That Joni Mitchell could write such a beautiful song about such tragedy and cruelty is, in itself,truly a wonder.
I play this capo up 2.
VERSE
G…Em…
G…Em
C…Em…
C.D.G..
prostitutes etc
C…Em..
C..Em…
C…Em…
C….
Christy Moore / Bono / The Edge G D
I want to reach out over the loch
C
And feel your hand across the water
G D
Walk with you along an unapproved road
C
Not lookin’ over my shoulder
G D Em C
I want to see, I want to hear, to understand your fear.
G D C
But we’re north and south of the river
I’ve been doing it wrong all of my life
This holy town has turned me over.
A man on the run from what he didn’t understand
As the wind from the Lough blew colder and colder.
There was a badness that had it’s way,
Love was not lost it just got mislaid.
G D C
North and south of the river.
G
North and south of the river.
Can we stop playing these old tattoos,
Darling I don’t have the answer.
I want to meet you where you are,
I don’t need you to surrender.
There is no feeling so alone
As when the one you’re hurting is your own.
G D C
North and south of the river.
Some high ground is not worth taking,
Some connections are not worth making.
There’s an old church bell no longer ringing,
And some old songs are not worth singing.
G D C
North and south of the river.
G
North and south of the river.
Repeat x 4
Jack Warshaw
You call it the law, we call it apartheid, internment, conscription, partition and silence.
It’s the law that they make to keep you and me where they think we belong.
The hide behind steel and bullet-proof glass, machine guns and spies,
And tell us who suffer the tear gas and the torture that we’re in the wrong.
CHORUS
No time for love if they come in the morning,
No time to show tears or for fears in the morning,
No time for goodbye, no time to ask why,
And the sound of the siren’s the cry of the morning.
They suffered the torture they rotted in cells, went crazy, wrote letters and died.
The limits of pain they endured – the loneliness got them instead.
And the courts gave them justice as justice is given by well-mannered thugs.
Sometimes they fought for the will to survive but more times they just wished they were dead.
CHORUS
They took away Sacco, Vanzetti, Connolly and Pearce in their time.
They came for Newton and Seal, Bobby Sands and some of his friends.
In Boston, Chicago, Saigon, Santiago, Warsaw and Belfast,
And places that never make headlines, the list never ends.
CHORUS
The boys in blue are only a few of the everyday cops on the beat,
The C.I.D., Branchmen, informers and spies do their jobs just as well;
Behind them the men who tap phones, take photos, program computers and files,
And the man who tells them when to come and take you to your cell.
CHORUS
All of you people who give to your sisters and brothers the will to fight on,
They say you can get used to a war, that doesn’t mean that the war isn’t on.
The fish need the sea to survive, just like your people need you.
And the death squad can only get through to them if first they can get through to you.
CHORUS
Christy Moore
I’m ninety miles from Dublin Town I’m in a H-Block cell
To help you understand my plight this story now I’ll tell
I’m on the Blanket Protest my efforts must not fail
I’m joined by men and women in the Blocks and Armagh Gaol
It all began the morning I was dragged to Castlerea
And though it was three years ago it seems like yesterday
Three days kicked and beaten and then I was forced to sign
Confessions that convicted me of deeds that were not mine
Sentenced in a Diplock court my protest it began
I could not wear that prison gear I became a Blanket Man
I’ll not accept your status I’ll not be criminalised
That’s the issue in the Blocks for which we give our lives
Over there in London how they’d laugh and sneer
If they could only make us wear their loathsome prison gear
Prisoners of War is what we are and that we will remain
The Blanket Protest must not end till our status we regain
I’ve been beaten round the romper room because I won’t say sir
Frogmarched down the landing and pulled back by the hair
I’ve suffered degradation humility and pain
My spirit does not falter your torture is in vain
I’ve been held in scalding water my skin with deck scrubs torn
Scratched and cut from head to foot and thrown out on the floor
Suffered mirror searches probed by drunken bears
I’ve listened to my comrades’ scream and sob their lonely prayers
Now with the news that’s coming in the Protest must not fail
We’ve been joined by thirty women across in Armagh Gaol
Pay attention Irish men and Irish women too
Show the Free State government their silence will not do
Though its ninety miles from Dublin it seems so far away
It’s like we’re getting more support from the USA
Now you’ve heard the story of this living hell
Remember ninety miles away I’m in my H-Block cell
Trad / Arr: Christy Moore
Who are you, me pretty fair maid
Who are you, me honey?
Who are you, me pretty fair maid
Who are you, me honey?
She answered me modestly,
“Well I am me mammy’s darling.”
CHORUS
With your too-ry-ah
Fol-de-diddle-dah
Me Day-re fol-de-diddle
Dai-rie oh.
And will you come to me mammy’s house
When the moon is shining clearly.
And will you come to me mammy’s house
When the moon is shining clearly.
I’ll open the door and I’ll let you in
And divil the one will hear us.
CHORUS
So I went to her house in the middle of the night
When the moon was shining clarely.
So I went to her house in the middle of the night
When the moon was shining clarely.
Shc opened the door and she let me in
And divil the one did hear us.
CHORUS
She took me horse by the bridle and the bit
And she led him to the stable
She took me horse by the bridle and the bit
And she led him to the stable
Saying “There’s plenty of oats for a soldier’s horse,
To eat it if he’s able.”
CHORUS
She took me by the lily-white hand
And she led me to the table
She took me by the lily-white hand
And she led me to the table
Saying “There’s plenty of wine for a soldier boy,
Drink it if you’re able.”
CHORUS
She got up and she made the bed
And she made it nice and aisy
She got up and she made the bed
And she made it nice and aisy
Then she took me by the hand
Saying “Blow out the candle!”
CHORUS
There we lay till the break of the day
And divil the one did hear us
There we lay till the break of the day
And divil the one did hear us
She arose and put on her clothes
Saying “Darling, you must leave me.”
CHORUS
When will I return again
When will we get married
When will I return again
When will we get married
When broken shells make Christmas bells
We might well get married.
CHORUS
Christy’s version has the roles reversed. The traditional version had him leaving her!
The line which says “Blow out the candle” was actually “I hope to God you’re able”!
Paul Doran
Capo on first fret
A E A
For all of our languages we can’t communicate
A E F#m
For all of our native tonques we’re all natives here
E F#m A
Sons of their fathers dream the same dream
E F#m
The sound of forbidden words becomes a scream
D E
Voices in anger, victims of history
F#m E A
Plundered and set aside grown fat on swallowed pride
With promises of paradise and gifts of beads and knives
Missionaries and pioneers are soldiers in disguise
Saviours and conquerors they make us wait
The fishers of men they wave their truth like bait
With the touch of a stranger’s hand innocence turns to shame
The spirit that dwelt within now sleeps out in the rain.
For all of our languages we can’t communicate
For all of our native tongues we’re all natives here
The scars of the past are slow to disappear
The cries of the dead are always in our ears
Only the very safe can talk about wrong or right
Of those who are forced to choose some will choose to fight
For all of our languages we can’t communicate
Barney Rush
G
Of all the stars that ever shone
C G D
Not one does twinkle like your pale blue eyes
C D G
Like golden corn at harvest time your hair
G C
Sailing in my boat the wind
G D
Gently blows and fills my sail
C D G
Your sweet-scented breath is everywhere
Daylight peeping through the curtain
Of the passing night time is your smile
And the sun in the sky is like your laugh
Come back to me my Nancy
Linger for just a little while
Since you left these shores I’ve known no peace nor joy
CHORUS
G C D
No matter where I wander I’m still haunted by your name
D D G
The portrait of your beauty stays the same
G C
Standing by the ocean wondering where you’ve gone,
G D
If you’ll return again
C D G
Where is the ring I gave to Nancy Spain
On the day in Spring when snows start to melt
And streams to flow
With the birds I’ll sing this song
Then in the while I’ll wander
Down by bluebell stream where wild flowers grow
And I’ll hope that lovely Nancy will return
Peter Hames
Am G F Am
I’m an ordinary man, nothing special nothing grand
F G Am
I’ve had to work for everything I own
Am G F Am
I never asked for a lot, I was happy with what I’d got
F G Am
Enough to keep my family and my home
Am F G C
Now they say that times are hard and they’ve handed me my cards
F E
They say there’s not the work to go around
Am G F Am
And when the whistle blows, the gates will finally close
F G Am
Tonight they’re going to shut this factory down
F G Am F G Am
Then they’ll tear it d-o-w-n
I never missed a day nor went on strike for higher pay
For twenty years I served them best I could
Now with a handshake and a cheque it seems so easy to forget
Loyalty through the bad times and through good
The owner says he’s sad to see that things have got so bad
But the captains of industry won’t let him lose
He still drives a car and smokes his cigar
And still he takes his family on a cruise, he’ll never lose
Well it seems to me such a cruel irony
He’s richer now than ever he was before
Now my cheque is spent and I can’t afford the rent
There’s one law for the rich, one for the poor
Every day I’ve tried to salvage some of my pride
To find some work so’s I might pay my way
Oh but everywhere I go, the answer’s always no
There’s no work for anyone here today, no work today
BREAK – 1st four lines
And so condemned I stand, just an ordinary man
Like thousands beside me in the queue
I watch my darling wife trying to make the best of life
And God knows what the kids are going to do
Now that we are faced with this human waste
A generation cast aside
And as long as I live, I never will forgive
You’ve stripped me of my dignity and pride, you’ve stripped me bare
You’ve stripped me bare, you’ve stripped me bare.
Michael McConnell
When apples still grow in September when blossoms still bloom on each tree
When leaves are still green in November it’s then that our land will be free
I wander her hills and her valleys and still through my sorrow I see
A land that has never known freedom, only her rivers run free
I drink to the death of her manhood, those men who would rather have died
Than to live in the cold chains of bondage to bring back their rights were denied
Where are you now when we need you, what burns where the flame used to be?
Are you gone like the snows of last winter will only our rivers run free
How sweet is life but we’re crying how mellow the wine that were dry
How fragrant the rose but its dying how gentle the wind but it sighs
What good is youth when its ageing what joy is in eyes that can see?
There is sorrow in sunshine and flowers and only our rivers run free.
Gail Collins and Felix Pappalardi
Two island swans, mated for life,
And his faithful heart would not consider any other wife.
For three years peaceful joy midst the rushes of the pond,
Proud and gentle was the loving of the last two island swans.
Their love was like a circle, no beginning and no end,
With his lady by his side a treasure and best friend.
The pond was all so peaceful in the rising of the sun,
Young and free at the island breeze their life had just begun.
‘Til a dread day in November when the searing cold did start,
Stalked the hunter with his bow and put an arrow through her heart.
Husband come to my side let your feathers warm my pain,
For I feel I will not spend another day with you again.
And the cold winds blow,
He was brave but he’s laid low.
By her body in the isle of mist,
I saw him give her one last cold kiss, one last cold kiss.
Of swans the people talk of only one in this days tide,
Through they brought him twenty ladies he would take no other bride.
They say he will not move from the place where she did fall,
Once so proud he’s beaten now and he will not rise at all.
Author Unknown
I once had a love and I loved her so well
I hated all others who spoke of her ill
Now she’s rewarded me well for my love
She’s gone to be wed with another
I saw my love down to the church go
And the bride and bride’s mother made a fine show
I followed after my heart full of woe
To see my love wed to another
I saw my love she sat down to dine
I sat down beside her and poured out the wine
I drank to the lass that would never be mine
For she’s gone to be wed to another
The men of the forest ask it of me
How many strawberries grow round the salt sea?
I answer them back with a tear in my eye
How many ships sail in the forest?
Dig me a grave and dig it so deep
Bury me in it to take a long sleep
Cover it over with flowers so sweet
Maybe in time I’ll forget her
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.
We were living in Co. Carlow. I was doing wild gigs up on the Castlecomer Plateaux. There were midgies in the hot summer air. Great growth in Coolcullen even before horsehit arrived. Old songs lurking behind hedges. Pipes glowing in the dark down the Protestant road.†
Great neighbours one and all. Stedmonds, Walshes, Kelly’s, Kinsella’s, Shirleys, hospitality in Moloney’s, Sheerans, Larkins, The Salmon Pool, Conways, Pedigree corner, the El Ruedo and Furey’s in Carlow, Kytelers, and the Metropole Kilkenny and the madness al around – New Ross, St. Mullins, Urlingford . . .
I sang the Ridge and Coolcullen brigade, The Carlow XV and I somehow managed to get this album together. Rehearsals were uneven and we even managed a tour before flying in to Keystone studio in Harcourt Street to get the tracks down.
The music was fun to play. I was trying to get a band together, but it was not happening – fellows had day jobs and others had their own projects and gigs to prioritise so it just faded away once we had her down on wax.
The Foxy Devil 127074518235_thefoxydevil
Trip To Jerusalem 127074540089_triptojerusalem
Dunlavin Green 127074543553_dunlavingreen
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.