“The Black Velvet Band”
All alone as I went for her hand bag, all alone by my self I did stray,
I met with a gay young sea man walking along the bay
Chorus
Her eyes they shone like diamonds I thought her the queen of the land
And her hair hung over her shoulders tied up with a black velvet band
Next day I was hunted and captured all alone by my self I did stand
And I was charged with robbing and steeling and for loving the black velvet band
Chorus
All you lads that are sober and single thank the morning from me if you can
Look out for the girl with the blue eyes and her hair in a black velvet band
“My Family Lived in Wexford Town”
Sung by Celine O Leary
My family lived in Wexford town, stopped travelling and settled down,
Though my father kept a horse and car, we lived within the town,
The people there mis understood, or they did not know our ways,
So with horse and car, back on the road, I began my travelling days
My father was called the Fiddler Dunne, and I’m a fiddler too,
But although I often felt his fist, he taught me all he knew,
I know I’ll never be as good, and yet I feel no shame,
For the other things my father taught, I am proud to bear his name.
He taught me pride and how to live, though the road is hard and long,
And how a man will never starve, with a banjo, fiddle or song,
And how to fight for what I own, and what I know is right,
And how to camp beside a ditch on a stormy winter’s night.
O times were good and times were bad, and people cruel and kind,
But what I learned of people then, has stayed within my mind,
I’ll honour friends with all my heart, do for them all I can,
But I’ve learnt to go the road again, when they spurn the tinker man.
O Wexford is a town I like, but the travelling man they scorn,
And a man must feel affection for the town where he was born,
I know one day, that I’ll go back, when my travelling days are done,
And people will begin to wonder, what has happened to the Pecker Dunne.
“Willie Leonard”
It was early one morning Willie Leonard arose,
And straight to his comrade’s bedchamber he goes,
Crying,” Comrade, loyal comrde, let no body know,
‘Tis a fine summer’s morning, and a-bathing we’ll go”.
To the Lake of Coolfin the comrades soon came
And who should they meet but the keeper of game.
“Turn back, Willie Leonard, do not venture in,
There are deep and false waters in the Lake of Coolfin.”
But Willie jumped in and he swum the lake round,
He soon reached an island, ’twas soft, boggy ground,
“Oh comrade, loyal comrade, don’t follow me in
There are deep and false waters in the Lake of Coolfin.”
It was very soon after, Willie’s sister awoke
And unto her mother all sadly she spoke,
“Oh I dreamt a sad dream about Willie last night
He came to my room in a shroud of snow white.”
Willie’s mother arose, and she went to the lake,
She called her son’s name, and she wept for his sake.
“Oh, sad was the hour when my Willie plunged in,
There are deep and false waters in the Lake of Coolfin.”
Oh, to see Willie’s funeral, it was a grand sight
There were four-and-twenty young men, they were all dressed in white.
There were four-and-twenty young maids, they were all dressed in green.
Just to show that he was drowned in the Lake of Coolfin.
“Nan McCann”
Sung with Story Introduction by Davey Collins
It was in a Dundalk old town as I rode down on a holiday after noon, the old
cornfields they were fresh and green and all nature was in full bloom, we went
walking there on upon the old square, she approached me there on the van shore,
she was all was there my old charming fare, it was lovingly Nan McCann.
And we both did sit up and we had a old chat, talking about the weather fine, she
removed off on me my old keen and gloves, and like wise my Caroline, than quite
modestly she said to me did you come far young man, off on the old litter hill in near
knock on vill than I answered young Nan McCann, well we meet in an old shop that
sold an old drop, and I asked her in to go, with a little force shore she did of course
and a pint she had, also now the old drop it was piping hot and she cooled all with her
fan was in it two or three she had with me, my own lovely Nan McCann.
Now there was Dinny old Conley and Jim Welch and poor old Paddy came from
Kells now each of those they would love to no were did the young fare maid dwell, it
was out from three O’ she did pick me, all do I love Maryann O’ the last you will see
a long with me, is my lovely Nan McCann
“A mother’s love is a blessing”
Sung By Margaret O Leary
An Irish boy was leaving
Leaving his native home,
Crossing the broad Atlantic sea,
Once more he wished to roam,
And as he was leaving his mother,
While standing on the Quay,
She put her arms around he’s waist
And this to her did say:
A mother’s love is a blessing,
No matter where you roam.
Keep her while she’s living,
You’ll miss her when she’s gone.
Love her as in childhood,
When feeble, old and grey,
For you’ll never miss your mother’s love
’til she’s buried beneath the clay.
And as the years grow onward,
I’ll settle down in life,
And I’ll choose a nice young colleen,
And take her for my wife.
And as the kids grow older,
They’ll play around my knee
And I’ll teach them the very same lesson
That my mother taught to me:
A mother’s love is a blessing,
No matter where you roam.
Keep her while she’s living,
You’ll miss her when she’s gone.
Love her as in childhood,
When feeble, old and grey,
For you’ll never miss a mother’s love
’til she’s buried beneath the clay.
“The Galway Shawl”
Sung by Margaret O’Leary
In Oran more, in the County Galway
One pleasant evening
In the month of May
I spied a damsel
she was young and handsome
Her beauty fairly took my breath away
She wore no jewels or costly diamonds
No paint or powder, no none at all
She wore a bonnet with a ribbon on it
And around her shoulder was the Galway shawl
As we kept on walking,
She kept on talking
Till her fathers cottage came into view
Said she Come in, Sir,
And meet my father
And for to please him,
Play the Foggy Dew
Played the Blackbird
And the Stack of Barley
Rodney’s Glory and the Foggy Dew
She sang each note
Like an Irish Linnet
And the tears flowed in her eyes of blue
‘Twas early, early, all in the morning
I took the road for old Donegal
Said she Goodbye Sir,
I dried my eye for
My heart remained with the Galway shawl
She wore no jewels or costly diamonds
No paint or powder, no none at all
She wore a bonnet with a ribbon on it
And around her shoulder was the Galway shawl,
And round her shoulder is the Galway shawl.
“The Ballad of Aidan McAnaspie”
Sung Paddy Joyce
It was on a sunny even
The sun shun in the sky,
As he walked his way to the Gaelic ground,
Never thinking he was going to die
As he crossed the check point,
The sound of gun fire came,
The news spread true the boarder town
Aidan McAnaspie was slain,
So why did you do it
Have you not the guts to say it was an accident
Or even a ricochet like local
And Debra your lies are well renowned,
You murdered Aidan McAnaspies
On his way to the Gaelic ground
For years he was hounded
By the force of the crown
As he walked to work every day,
He left his native town,
The solders swore they’d get him,
For reasons no one could say
And sure enough they murdered him on that sunny day
Aidan life was ending
It was time for judgment day,
The solder jumped from the tower
The coward he ran away,
God curse on the English
For the cruel thing you’ve done,
But God will have the final say
When your judgment day will come,
To say it was an accident was the greatest crime of all,
It’s the worst that can be fall,
Now a cross marks the lonely spot
Where Aidan he was shot down,
As he walked on that sunny even on his way to the Gallic town
So why did you do it
Have you not the guts to say it was an accident
Or even a ricochet like local
And Debra your lies are well renowned,
You murdered Aidan McAnaspies
On his way to the Gaelic ground
“In Connemara as I went walking one day”
Sung Paddy Joyce
In Connemara as I went walking one day
I sat by the sea and I watched
The young girls at there play
And they spoke in a tongue that was so strange
To me for it was Gallic
They spoke as they laughed and played by the sea,
O but who is going to hear them
And who is going to tell them well done,
And who will rejoice that Irish is native tongue
So beware little girls you’re the only white sheep in the cold,
And the language of Ireland may be yours before you grow old,
And we are told to forgive and forget
Bad times time’s that are gone most of Ireland is ours
Most English men were they belong,
But it’s hard to forget when those pretty voices
I hear speak a language in Ireland
That is all so strange to my ears
In Connemara as I went walking one day
I sat by the sea and I watched
The young girls at there play
And they spoke in a tongue that was so strange
“Don’t give up on me”
Sung by Mary Jane Nevin
I read a note my grandma wrote back in nineteen twenty-three.
Grandpa kept it in his coat, and he showed it once to me. He said,
“Boy, you might not understand, but a long, long time ago,
Grandma’s daddy didn’t like me none, but I loved your Grandma so.”
We had this crazy plan to meet and run away together.
Get married in the first town we came to, and live forever.
But nailed to the tree where we were supposed to meet, instead
Of her, I found this letter, and this is what it said:
If you get there before I do, don’t give up on me.
I’ll meet you when my chores are through;
I don’t know how long I’ll be.
But I’m not gonna let you down, darling wait and see.
And between now and then, till I see you again,
I’ll be loving you. Love, me.
I read those words just hours before my Grandma passed away,
In the doorway of a church where me and Grandpa stopped to pray.
I know I’d never seen him cry in all my fifteen years;
But as he said these words to her, his eyes filled up with tears.
If you get there before I do, don’t give up on me.
I’ll meet you when my chores are through;
I don’t know how long I’ll be.
But I’m not gonna let you down, darling wait and see.
And between now and then, till I see you again,
I’ll be loving you. Love, me.
Between now and then, till I see you again,
I’ll be loving you. Love, me.
“The long black veil”
Sung by Mary Jane Nevin
Ten years ago someone was killed on a cold dark night
Someone was killed in the hall town light,
There were a few at the scene
But they all agreed that the slayer that ran
Looked a lot like me,
She walked these hills in a long black veil
She visits my grave when the night wind wails,
Nobody knows nobody sees nobody knows but me
The judge said son what is your alibi
If you were somewhere else you won’t have to die,
I spoke not a word for it meant my life
For how could I tell I was with my best friend’s wife?
She walked these hills in a long black veil
She visits my grave when the night wind wails,
Nobody knows nobody sees nobody knows but me,
The scaffold was high and he turned hear,
She stood in the crowed
And she shed not a tear but sometimes at night when the cold wind moans’
In I long black veil she cry’s over my bones,
She walked these hills in a long black veil
She visits my grave when the night wind wails,
Nobody knows nobody sees nobody knows but me
“Where Peter Crowley lies”
Sung by Molly Collins
For I rambled out one evening on the month of June
And straight into a church yard to view a noble tomb
Over heard an old man saying as tears ran from his old eyes
In beneath the cold cold cry today were Peter Crowley lies,
The grave were Peter Crawley lies the grass it grows green
And clean and underneath were Peter sleeps because he loved
The old green he fought and he died for Irelands right for Crowley’s
Only son many a day shoulder are two Killarney to Tralee then many
A day a stormy melt Mc Cree because you were feeding young boy you
Died for liberty
“Sailing Dark Waters”
Sung by Julie Doyle
The seagulls are calling
And the wind is in the sale
And were fast moving out to the sea
On the on a ship and St John
Three thousand miles away
A human cargo my comrades
And me,
Fare well my great valley
God keep you the same
If in only my mind view will be,
I’m sailing dark waters
To far America
Never more my great valley to see,
There’s a raging and the winds are tidal waves
And the journey can no longer be
And the plague is a shadow
That lingers night and day,
For from my green valley
I’ll bid fare well my green valley’s
God keep you
The same if
In only my mind view
Will be I’m sailing dark waters
To for and more it came
Never more my green valley
I’ll be never more my green valley I’ll be
“The Ballad of Pat O’Donnell”
By Martin Anthony Collins
My name is Pat O’Donnell
And I come from Donegal,
l am, you know, a dangerous foe
To traitors one and all;
For the shooting of James Carey
I’ve been tried in London town,
And now upon the gallows high
My life I must lay down.
I sailed aboard the Montrose,
In August ‘eighty-three,
And on my voyage to Capetown
He was made known to me.
When I heard he was James Carey,
We had angry words and blows,
And the villain he strove to take my life
On board of the Montrose.
I stood up to defend myself,
And fight before I’d die;
My pocket pistol I drew forth,
And at him I did fly;
We fired until the second round,
When I shot him through the heart,
And I gave him the third revolver shot
Before he did depart.
Oh! Carey’s wife and child came to
The cabin where he lay,
And seeing him lying in his gore
It filled them with dismay.
“O’Donnell, you’ve shot my husband,”
Mrs. Carey loud did cry;
“Oh, yes, I did, in self-defence,
Madam,” then said I.
The captain had me handcuffed
And guarded iron-bound,
And I was kept a prisoner
’till we landed in Capetown;
I was then brought back to England,
When my trial it came on,
And the prosecutors for the Crown
Were Carey’s wife and son.
The jury found me guilty,
And the judge made this replay:
“For the murder of James Carey,
O’Donnell, you must die
On the twenty-third of December
And on the gallows high;
So the Lord have mercy on your soul,
For your hour is drawing nigh.”
“Nan McCann”
By Martin Anthony Collins
It was in a Dundalk old town
As I rode down on a holiday after noon,
The old cornfields they were fresh and green
And all nature was in full bloom,
We went walking there on upon the old square,
She approached me there on the van shore,
She was all was there my old charming fare,
It was lovingly Nan McCann.
And we both did sit up
And we had a old chat,
Talking about the weather fine,
She removed off on me my old keen and gloves,
And like wise my Caroline,
Than quite modestly she said to me
Did you come far young man,
Off on the old litter hill
In near knock on vill
Than I answered young Nan McCann,
Well we meet in an old shop that sold an old drop,
And I asked her in to go,
With a little force shore
She did of course and a pint she had,
Also now the old drop it was piping hot
And she cooled all with her fan
Was in it two or three she had with me,
My own lovely Nan McCann.
Now there was Dinny old Conley and Jim Welch
And poor old Paddy came from Kells
Now each of those
They would love to know
Where did the young fare maid dwell,
It was out from three O’
She did pick me,
All do I love Maryann O’
The last you will see a long with me,
Is my lovely Nan McCann
“Spancil Hill”
Sung by Julie Ann Joyce
Last night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by
My mind been bent on rambling to Ireland I did fly
I stepped on board a vision and followed with a will
Till next I came to anchor at the cross in Spancil Hill
It been on the twenty-third of June the day before the fair
When Irelands sons and daughters and friends assembled there
the young, the old, the brave and the bold came their duty to fulfill
at the parish church in Clooney, a mile from Spancil Hill
Delighted by the novelty, enchanted by the scene.
Where in me early boyhood where often I had been.
I thought I heard a murmur. I think I hear it still.
It’s the little stream of water that flows down Spancil Hill.
To amuse a passing fancy, I laid down on the ground.
And all my school companions, they shortly gathered round.
When we were home returning, we danced with bright good will
To Martin Monahan’s music, at the cross at Spancil Hill.
I went to see me neighbours to see what they might say
The old ones were all dead and gone, the young ones turning grey
But I met the tailor Quigley, he’s as bold as ever still
Ah, he used to make me britches when I lived at Spancil Hill
I paid a flying visit to my first and only love
She’s as white as any lily, gentle as a dove
And she threw her arms around me, saying Johnny I love you still
Ah, she’s now a farmer’s daughter and the pride of Spancil Hill
I dreamt I knelt and kissed her as in the days of yore
Ah, Johnny you’re only joking as many the time before
Then the cock he crew in the morning, he crew both loud and shrill
I awoke in California, many miles from Spancil Hill
“The Hills of Sweet Mayo”
Sung by Maggie Myers
Last night I heard the news that nearly broke my heart,
When a guilty boy came from the hills said that you were shot,
Will you come with me to find my love an the hill of sweet Mayo,
We started off together her true love for to find
Three nights we searched for him till at last we found
It was there we found her true love dead on the hill of sweet Mayo
Her own true love was a rebel who loved his liberty
He fought in 1916 for to set old Ireland free
Was the Fenian gone shot her love on the hills of sweet Mayo,
Was the Fenian gone that shot her love on the hills of sweet Mayo.
“Title not available”
Lyrics not available
“Galway Bay”
Sung by Martin Joe Joyce
If you ever cross the sea to Ireland
And maybe at the closing of your day
You can seat and watch the sun rise over clada,
And watch the sun go down on Galway bay
Maybe some day I’ll go back again to Ireland
If my dear old wife would only pass away,
Now she has my poor old heath broke with all her nagging,
And she has a mouth as big as Galway Bay,
After drinking sixteen pints of Arthur Guinness
And she walks down the road with out a sway,
If the auld sea was bare in stead of salty water
A then she would live and die on Galway bay,
After drinking sixteen points in Padgo Murphy
And the bar man say’s its time to go,
Now she doesn’t try to answer him in Irish
But speaks a language that the Traveller’s do not know,
Well on her back she has a map of Ireland,
And when she takes her bath on Saturdays
Well she rubs the care ball soap all round the clada
Just to watch the auld suds go down on Galway bay,
Well her feet are like auld lump of board na Mona
And her hair is like a rake of last years hay,
A and when I rub my around her turage
A she’ll forget about auld Galway bay.
“Sam Hill”
Sung by Martin Joe Joyce
Oh, me name it is Sam Hall, chimney sweep, chimney sweep
Oh, me name it is Sam Hall, chimney sweep
Oh, me name it is Sam Hall and I´ve robbed both rich and small
And me neck will pay for all when I die, when I die
And me neck will pay for all when I die
I have got twenty pounds in store, that´s not all, that´s not all
I have got twenty pounds in store, that´s not all
I have got twenty pounds in store and I´ve robbed for twenty more
For the rich must help the poor, so must I, so must I
For the rich must help the poor, so must I
Oh, they brought me to Coote Hill, in a cart, in a cart
Oh, they brought me to Coote Hill, in a cart
Oh, they brought me to Coote Hill and t´was there I make my will
For the best of friends must part, so must I, so must I
For the best of friends must part, so must I
Up the ladder I did grope, that´s no joke, that´s no joke
Up the ladder I did grope, that´s no joke
Up the ladder I did grope and the hangman pulled the rope
And it´s ne´er a word I spoke, tumblin´ down, tumblin´ down
And it´s ne´er a word I spoke, tumblin´ down
“Long, long before your time”
Sung by Julia McDonnell
You ask me why I look so sad on this bright summer’s day,
And why the tears are in my eyes and I seem so far away,
Well sit yourself beside me love and put your hand in mine,
And I’ll tell you of someone I loved long, long before your time,
Well I’m sittin here and thinking of those days so long ago,
When I was just a child like you and the girl I used to know,
Through fields of green we laughed and played and sang our merry rhymes,
O we were young and happy then, long, long before your time.
Through childhood years our love did bloom, till our hearts were just as one,
And we promised each eternal love in the church below the town,
We settled in this little house I was proud to call her mine,
Oh we were young and happy then, long, long before your time
One lovely year was all we had until the sickness came,
And stole the roses from her cheeks, my tears they fell like rain,
For nine long months she carried you, but in the end she died,
She chose to go so you might live, long long before your time,
So you ask me why I look so sad on this bright summer’s day,
And why the tears are in my eyes and I seem so far away,
Its just you seem a lot like her when your eyes look into mine,
And you smile so much like she did, long, long before your time.
“The Factory Girl”
Sung by Nellie Joyce
As I was a walking one midsummer morning
The birds in the branches so sweetly did sing
The lads and the lasses together were sporting
Going down to yon factory their work to begin
I spied one amongst them more fairer than any
Her lips like red roses that none could excel
Her skin like the lily that blooms in the valley
And besides she’s a hard working factory girl
I stepped up to her, it was for to view her
When on me she cast a bright look of disdain
“Oh young man have manners and do not insult me
For although I’m a poor girl I think it no shame”
“It’s not for to scorn you, fair maid I adore you
Come grant me one favor, love where do you dwell?”
“Oh young man, excuse me, for now I must leave you
For yonder’s the sound of my factory bell”
“Oh I have fine houses adorned with ivory
Gold in my pocket and silver as well
And if you’ll come with me, a lady I’ll make you
And no more will you heed yon poor factory bell”
“Oh love and temptation are our ruination
Go find you a lady and may you do well
For I am an orphan with ne’er a relationAnd besides, I’m a hard working factory girl”
“Waltz of an Angel”
Sung by Lena Keenan
Played a party last night for some old folks
They were dancing and smiling at me
‘Cept this old man alone at a table
As if there’s someplace that he’d rather be
So I said, “Sir, can I play something for you.
Something special that you’d like to hear”
When he looked up at me he was smiling
Oh, but his eyes couldn’t hide the tears
Chorus:
He said, “Play me the Waltz of the Angels,
And I’ll close my eyes and pretend.
Play me the Waltz of the Angels,
So I can dance with my angel again.”
He said, “Yes, that’s the song I remember
Thats’ the one that she loved the best
It was playing the night that I met her
and it was playing when we laid her to rest.”
Repeat Chorus
“Let me dance with my angel again.”
“John Mitchell”
By Bridget Collins
I am a true born Irish man
John Mitchell is my name
An for to free my country
From Mary’s town I came,
We struggled hard o night and day
For to free my native land
On till I was transported
Going to van diamond’s land
And when I first tried my country
It was in August forty two
And that what followed after this
I will quickly tell to you,
I would rather stand in Dowry peel
Are glory in the doe
I vowed to heaven I never would
Rest until Ireland would be free,
O here in prison I am close confined
I’ll wait till my trial day
My loving wife she came up to me
And tis to me did say
She said John me boy cheer up my heart
“Leaving Skibereen”
Sung By John Keenan
Oh father dear,
I oft-times hear
You speak of Erin’s isle
Her lofty hills, her valleys green,
Her mountains rude and wild
They say she is a lovely land
Wherein a saint might dwell
So why did you abandon her, the reason to me tell?
Oh well do I remember that bleak December day
The landlord and the sheriff came to take us all away
They set my roof on fire with their cursed English spleen
I heaved a sigh and bade goodbye to dear old Skibbereen
And you were only two years old and feeble was your frame
I could not let you with my friends
You would bore your fathers name
I wrapped you in my old plaid coat
The night of death unseen
And that’s on other reason why I left old Skibereen
Oh father dear, the day will come when in answer to the call
All Irish men of freedom stern will rally one and all
I’ll be the man to lead the band beneath the flag of green
And loud and clear we’ll raise the cheer,
Revenge for Skibbereen!
“Standing around the camp fire in the dark”
Sung by Johnny Keenan
My father rises early and makes a sup of tea
He lights the kitchen stove and then he calls me
His days are often empty, nothing much to do
And so he tells me stories of the travelling life he knew
In the evening they would meet in lonely country lanes
A field away you’d hear a collie bark
As they passed the time away with talks about the day
Standing ’round the campfire in the dark
Standing ’round the campfire in the dark
My mother likes the house, the hot water and the rooms
It’s warm in the winter and she’s handy with the broom
Sometimes she makes Colcannon, more often Griddle Bread
For there’s a hunger deep inside her for a life that’s nearly dead.
In the evening she would lift the black pots from the coals
A bit to eat she always would remark
There’d be vessels left to clean while children could be seen
Playing ’round the campfire in the dark
Playing ’round the campfire in the dark
Sometimes we go to the pool hall and chat up the town beoirs
Sometimes at the disco we can’t get passed the doors
Were still tinkers to them its thrown at are ears
Were still the strangers after all theses years
I think about my own life and the way that it will be
An Escort van, a bit of dealing, a wife and family
Thursday I collect the Dole, maybe pitch and toss
And on the site I think about the travellers’ ways we’ve lost
And in the evening we would meet in lonely country lanes
A field away you’d hear a collie bark they would pass the time away
About talk about today standing around the camp fire in the dark, Standing around the camp fire in the dark
“Seven Spanish Angels”
Sung by Mary Ellen Mongon
He looked down into her blue eyes, and said
“Say a prayer for me”.
SheThrew her arms around him, whispered
“God will keep us free”.
They could hear the riders coming’, He said
“This is my last fight…If they
Take me back to Texas, they won’t
Take me back a-live.
There were seven Spanish angels, at the
Altar of the sun.
They were prayin’ for the lovers, in the
Valley of the gun.
When the battle stopped and the smoke cleared,
There was thunder from the throne,
And seven Spanish angels, took a-nother
Angel home.
She reached down and picked the gun up,
That lay smokin in his hand.
She said, “Father please forgive me;
I can’t make it without my man.”
And she knew the gun was empty,
And she knew she couldn’t win,
But her final prayer was answered
When the rifles fired again.
There were seven Spanish angels, at the
Altar of the sun.
They were prayin’ for the lovers, in the
Valley of the gun.
When the battle stopped and the smoke cleared,
There was thunder from the throne,
And seven Spanish angels, took a-nother
Angel home.
“My rifle, my pony and me “
Sung by Mary Ellen Mongon
Purple light in the canyon
That’s where I long to be
With my three good companions
Just my rifle, pony, and me
Gonna hang my sombrero
On the limb of a tree
Comin’ home sweetheart darlin’
Just my rifle, pony and me
(Whippoorwill in the willow
Sings a sweet melody)
Ridin’ to (Ridin’ to) Amarillo (Amarillo)
Just my rifle, pony, and me
No more cows (no more cows) to be ropin’ (to be ropin’)
No more (strain)STRAYS will I see
Round the bend (round the bend) she’ll be waitin’ (she’ll be waitin’)
For my rifle, pony, and me
For my rifle, my pony, and me
“Old cahermee”
Sung by Paddy Collins
My name is Paddy McNInerney an old country man am I
In search of a wife I went travelling until I came into old Cahemee
Well the first man I met was red Danny and a nice man he seemed for to be
He invited me out to his auld wagon, were I know there was a welcome
For me, well the first he drew it was dealing and the next it was Julia to me
Ten pounds in a fair is Julia’s earnings and the lady my daughter well be
Don’t be bragging are boasting of your daughter for a lady your daughter may be
She’ll be flashing my auld piebald and wagon around the mane street of old cahermee
“Red-haired Mary”
Sung by Paddy Collins
It was going to the fair in Dingle one fine morning last
July and going down the road before me a red haired
girl I chanced a spy, I stepped up to her, said young lady
My auld donkey he would carry two she looked at me her
Her eyes a twinkled and her cheeks they were all rose two
Well thank you kindly ser she whispered then she tossed her
Bright red hair, well seen as how you have your donkey shore
I’ll ride with you to the dingle fair now when we reach the fair
In Dingle I take her hand and say good bye when a Traveller
Man stepped up be side me and he thumped me right in my
Left eye,
Chorus
Take your hands off red haired Mary her and I
Are two be wed were seen the priest this very morning
Until I can lay in Mary’s bed
Well I was feeling kind of peevish and my poor auld eye was sad
And sore well I taped him gently with my hog nails and he flow
Right through Murphy’s door
Chorus
A police man came around the corner and he told me I had broke
The law, when the donkey taped him in the angle and he fell down
And broke his jaw now he went off to find his brother and the
Finest man you ever did see when he taped me gently and I was
Minis two front teeth
Chorus
“If she seems cold and bitter”
Sung by Celine O’Leary
If she seems cold and bitter than (then) I beg of you
Just stop and consider all she’s going’ through
Don’t be quick to condemn her for things she might say
Just remember life turned her that way
She’s been walked on and stepped on so many times
And I hate to admit it but that last footprint’s mine
She was crying when I met her, she cries harder today
So don’t blame her life turned her that way
She’s been walked on and stepped on so many times
And I hate to admit it but the last footprint’s mine
She was crying when i met her, she cries harder today
So don’t blame her, life turned her that way
So don’t blame her, life turned her that way
“On your wedding day”
Sung by Michael Mongon
Lyrics not available
“The banks of the Lee”
Sung by Nelly & Molly Joyce
When two lovers meet down beside the green bower
When two lovers meet down beneath the green tree
When Mary, fond Mary, declared to her lover
quot; You have stolen my poor heart from the Banks of the Lee
Chorus:
I loved her very dearly, so true and sincerely
There was no one in this wide world I loved better than she
Every bush, every bower, every sweet Irish flower
Reminds me of my Mary, on the banks of the Lee.
“Don’t stay out late, love, on the moorlands, my Mary
Don’t stay out late, love, on the moorlands from me”
How little was our notion when we parted on the ocean
That we were forever parted from the Banks of the Lee
Chorus
I will pluck her some roses, some blooming Irish roses
I will pluck her some roses, the fairest that ever grew
And I’ll leave them on the grave of my own true lovely Mary
In that cold and silent churchyard where she sleeps ‘neath the dew
Chorus
“The Boys Of Barr Na Sráid”
Sung by Martine McDonagh
Oh the town, it climbs the mountain and looks upon the sea
At sleeping time or waking, ’tis there I’d long to be
To walk again that kindly street, the place where life began
And the Boys of Barr na Sráide went hunting for the wren
With cudgels stout they roamed about to hunt the dreólín
we searched for birds in every furze from Litir to Dooneen
we sang for joy beneath the sky, life held no print nor plan
and the Boys of Barr na Sráide went hunting for the wren
And when the hills were bleeding and the rifles were aflame
to the rebel homes of Kerry the Saxon stranger came
but the men who dared the Auxies and to beat the Black-and-Tan
The Boys of Barr Na Sráide who hunted for the wren
And here’s a toast to them tonight, the lads who laughed with me
by the groves of Carham River or the slope of Bean ‘a Tí
John Daly and Batt Andy and the Sheehans, Con and Dan
and the Boys of Barr na Sráide who hunted for the wren
And now they toil on foreign soil, for they have gone their way
Deep in the heart of London town or over in Broadway
And I am left to sing their deeds and praise them while I can
Those Boys of Barr na Sráide who hunted for the wren
And when the wheel of life runs down and peace comes over me
Oh lay me down in that old town between the hills and sea
I’ll take my sleep in those green fields, the place my life began
Where those Boys of Barr na Sráide went hunting for the wren
“The Irish Rover”
Sung by Martine McDonagh
On the Fourth of July, 1806
We set sail from the sweet Cobh of Cork
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the Grand City Hall in New York
‘Twas a wonderful craft
She was rigged fore and aft
And oh, how the wild wind drove her
She stood several blasts
She had twenty seven masts
And they called her The Irish Rover
We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags
We had two million barrels of stones
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides’
We had four million barrels of bones
We had five million hogs
six million dogs
Seven million barrels of porter
We had eight million barrels of old nanny goate tails
In the hold of the Irish Rover
There was awl Mickey Coote
Who played hard on his flute
And the ladies lined up for a set
He would tootle with skill
For each sparkling quadrille
Though the dancers were fluther’d and bet
With his smart witty talk
He was cock of the walk
As he rolled the dames under and over
They all knew at a glance
When he took up his stance
That he sailed in The Irish Rover
There was Barney McGee
From the banks of the Lee
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Johnny McGurk
Who was scared stiff of work
And a man from Westmeath called Malone
There was Slugger O’Toole
Who was drunk as a rule
And Fighting Bill Tracy from Dover
And your man, Mick McCann
From the banks of the Bann
Was the skipper of the Irish Rover
For a sailor its’ always a bother in life
It’s so lonesome by night and by day
That he longs for the shore
and a charming young whore
Who will melt all his troubles away
Oh, the noise and the rout
Swillin’ poiteen and stout
For him soon the torment’s over
Of the love of a maid he is never afraid
An old salt from the Irish Rover
We had sailed seven years
When the measles broke out
And the ship lost its way in the fog
And that whale of a crew
Was reduced down to two
Just myself and the Captain’s old dog
Then the ship struck a rock
Oh Lord! What a shock
The bulkhead was turned right over
Turned nine times around
and the poor old dog was drowned (1,2,3!)
I’m the last of The Irish Rover
“Van Dieman’s land”
Sung by Molly Collins
Hold me now, oh hold me now
Till this hour has gone around
And I’m gone on the rising tide
For to face Van Diemen’s land
It’s a bitter pill I swallow here
To be rent from one so dear
We fought for justice and not for gain
But the magistrate sent me away
Now kings will rule and the poor will toil
And tear their hands as they tear the soil
But a day will come in this dawning age
When an honest man sees an honest wage
Hold me now, oh hold me now
Till this hour has gone around
And I’m gone on the rising tide
For to face Van Dieman’s land
Still the gunman rules and Widows pay
A scarlett coat now a black beret
They thought that blood and sacrifice
Could out of death bring forth a life
“Little old wine Drinker”
Sung by Martine Mongon
I’m praying for a rain in California
so the grapes can grow and they can make more wine
and I’m sitting in a honky in Chicago
With a broken heart and a woman on my mind.
I’ll ask the man behind the bar for the jukebox
And the music takes me back to Tennessee
And when they ask who’s the fool in the corner, crying
I’ll say, little old wine drinker, me.
I came here last week from down in Nashville
‘Cause my baby left for Florida on a train
I thought I’d get a job and just forget her
But in Chicago a broken heary is still the same.
I’ll ask the man behind the bar for the jukebox
And the music takes me back to Tennessee
And when they ask who’s the fool in the corner, crying
I’ll say, little old wine drinker, me…
“RÒISIN”
Sung by Jim O’Leary
It’s a long time now since first we met, when I was but a child I felt you were just
mine alone and I loved you all the while dose days when I was O so young I could not
understand why so many others loved you two and tried to take your hand,
Chorus
O Roisin my Roisin I know you know just what I mean
And I feel loved and sadness when I think of you Roisin
Now down the years with words and songs my lovers reminisce I seat there thinking
from in your dreams of this lady in the moon, yet today we will not ask what we want
you to do, why do we hurt the ones we love and fade to love you too
Chorus
“Will you go lassie go”
Oh, the summertime is coming’,
and the trees are sweetly blooming,
Where the wild mountain thyme
Grows around the blooming heather
Will ye go, lassie, will ye go?
And we’ll all go together to pick wild mountain thyme
All around the blooming heather.
Will ye go, lassie, will ye go?
I will build my love a bower
by yon pure crystal fountain
and around it I will place
all the flowers of the mountain.
Will ye go, lassie, will ye go?
And we’ll all go together to pick wild mountain thyme
All around the blooming heather.
Will ye go, lassie, will ye go?
If my true love e’er should leave me
I would surely find another
where the wild mountain thyme
grows around the blooming heather.
Will ye go, lassie, will ye go?
And we’ll all go together to pick wild mountain thyme
All around the blooming heather.
Will ye go, lassie, will ye go?
Oh, the autumn-time is coming’,
and the leaves are gently falling,
Where the wild mountain thyme
Grows around the blooming heather
Will ye go, lassie, will ye go?
And we’ll all go together to pick wild mountain thyme
All around the blooming heather.
Will ye go, lassie, will ye go?
“A Mothers love is a blessing”
Sung by Michael Mongon
An Irish boy was leaving
Leaving his native home,
Crossing the broad Atlantic sea,
Once more he wished to roam,
And as he was leaving his mother,
While standing on the Quay,
She put her arms around he’s waist
And this to her did say:
A mother’s love is a blessing,
No matter where you roam.
Keep her while she’s living,
You’ll miss her when she’s gone.
Love her as in childhood,
When feeble, old and grey,
for you’ll never miss your mother’s love
’til she’s buried beneath the clay.
And as the years grow onward,
I’ll settle down in life,
And I’ll choose a nice young colleen,
And take her for my wife.
And as the kids grow older,
They’ll play around my knee
And I’ll teach them the very same lesson
That my mother taught to me:
A mother’s love is a blessing,
No matter where you roam.
Keep her while she’s living,
you’ll miss her when she’s gone.
Love her as in childhood,
When feeble, old and grey,
for you’ll never miss a mother’s love
’til she’s buried beneath the clay.