|
|
When Irish Eyes Are Smiling
 Chorus: When Irish eyes are smiling Sure it's like a morning spring. In the lilt of Irish laughter, You can hear the angels sing. When Irish hearts are happy, All the world seems bright and gay. And when Irish eyes are smiling, Sure, they steal your heart away. There's a tear in your eye, and I'm wondering why, For it never should be there at all. With such power in your smile, sure a stone you'd beguile, So there's never a teardrop should fall. When your sweet lilting laughter's like some fairy song, And your eyes twinkle bright as can be, You should laugh all the while and all other times smile, And now smile a smile for me. Chorus: When Irish eyes are smiling Sure it's like a morning spring. In the lilt of Irish laughter, You can hear the angels sing. When Irish hearts are happy, All the world seems bright and gay. And when Irish eyes are smiling, Sure, they steal your heart away.
Peggy Gordon
 Oh Peggy Gordon you are my darling Come sit ye down upon my knee And tell to me the very reason Why I am slighted so by thee I am in love and I can’t deny it My heart lies troubled in my breast It’s not for me to let the whole world know it A troubled mind can know no rest I put my hand to a cask of brandy It was my fancy so to do For when I am drinking I am seldom thinking And wishing Peggy Gordon was here I wish I was away in England Far across the briny sea Sailing over the deepest ocean Where love and care never bother me I wish I was in a lonely valley Where women kind cannot be found Where all the small birds they change their voices And every moment a different sound Oh Peggy Gordon you are my darling Come sit ye down upon my knee And tell to me the very reason Why I am slighted so by thee
Curragh Of Kildare
 The winter it is past and the summer's come at last And the birds they are singing in the trees Their little hearts are glad but mine is very sad For my true love is far away from me The rose upon the briar by the water running free Gives joy to the linnet and the bee Their little hearts are blessed but mine is not at rest For my true love is absent from me A livery I'll wear and I'll comb back my hair In velvet so green I will appear Chorus:And it's straight I will repair to the Curragh of KildareFor it's there I'll find tidings of my dearAll you who are in love and cannot it remove I pity the pain that you may endure For experience lets me know that your hearts are full of woe And a woe that no mortal can endure Chorus
The Fields of Athenry
 By a lonely prison wall I heard a young girl calling Micheal they are taking you away For you stole Trevelyn's corn So the young might see the morn. Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay. Low lie the Fields of Athenry Where once we watched the small free birds fly. Our love was on the wing we had dreams and songs to sing It's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry. By a lonely prison wallI heard a young man calling Nothing matter Mary when your free, Against the Famine and the Crown I rebelled they ran me down Now you must raise our child with dignity. Low lie the Fields of Athenry Where once we watched the small free birds fly. Our love was on the wing we had dreams and songs to sing It's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry. By a lonely harbor wall She watched the last star falling As that prison ship sailed out against the sky Sure she'll wait and hope and pray For her love in Botany Bay It's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry. Low lie the Fields of Athenry Where once we watched the small free birds fly. Our love was on the wing we had dreams and songs to sing It's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry.
Arthur McBride
 I had a first cousin called Arthur McBride,
He and I took a stroll down by the sea-side,
A-seeking good fortune and what might the tide,
It was just as the day was a-dawning
Then after resting we both took a tramp
We met Sergeant Harpur and Corporal Cramp
Besides the wee drummer who beat up our camp,
With his rowdy-dow-dow in the morning
He says: "My young fellows if you will enlist,
A guinea you quickly shall have in your fist
And besides a crown for to kick up the dust,
And drink the king's health in the morning.
"Had we been such fools as to take the advance,
With a wee bit of money we'd have to run chance,
"Do you think it no scruples for to send us to France.
Where we would be killed in the morning."
He says: "My young fellows if I hear but one word,
I instantly now will out with my sword,
And into your bodies as strength will afford,
So now my gay devils take warning.
"But Arthur and I we took the odds,
And we gave them no chance for to launch out their swords,
Our whacking shillelaghs came over their heads,
And paid them right smart in the morning.
As for the wee drummer, we rifled his pouch,
And we made a football of his rowdy-dow-dow
And into the ocean to rock and to roll
And bade it a tedious returning.
As for the old rapier that hung by his side,
We pitched it as far as we could in the tide,
To the devil I pit you says Arthur McBride,
To temper your steel in the morning.
Only Our Rivers
 When apples still grow in November When Blossoms still bloom from each tree When leaves are still green in December 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 And only her rivers run free I drink to the death of her manhood Those men who'd rather have died Than to live in the cold chains of bondage To bring back their rights were denied Oh where are you now when we need you What burns where the flame used to be Are ye gone like the snows of last winter And will only our rivers run free? How sweet is life but we're crying How mellow the wine but it's dry How fragrant the rose but it's dying How gentle the breeze but it sighs What good is in youth when it's aging What joy is in eyes that can't see When there's sorrow in sunshine and flowers And still only our rivers run free
The Rare Old Mountain Dew
 Let the grasses grow and the waters flow in a free and easy way
Just give me enough of the fine old stuff that's brewed near Galway Bay
Come gougers all from Donegal, Sligo and Leitrim too
We'll give them the slip and we'll take a sip of the rare old mountain dew
Chorus:
Skid-ree Idle-diddle dum skid-ree Idle-diddle dum
Skid-ree Idle-dum diddle dum day
Skid-ree Idle-diddle dum skid-ree Idle-diddle dum
Skid-ree Idle-dum diddle dum day
There's a neat little still at the foot of the hill, and smoke twirls up to the sky
For the smoke and the smell, its plan to tell that there’s poteen brewing near by
It fills the air, with an odor rare, and betwixt both me and you
When home you stroll, you can take a bowl, or a bucket of the mountain dew
Chorus:
Skid-ree Idle-diddle dum skid-ree Idle-diddle dum
Skid-ree Idle-dum diddle dum day
Skid-ree Idle-diddle dum skid-ree Idle-diddle dum
Skid-ree Idle-dum diddle dum day
Now learned men who use the pen, have written their praises high
That sweet poteen from Ireland green, distilled from wheat and rye
Throw away your pills; it will cure all ills, of the pagan, the Christian or Jew
Take off your coat and grease your throat, with the real old mountain dew
Chorus:
Skid-ree Idle-diddle dum skid-ree Idle-diddle dum
Skid-ree Idle-dum diddle dum day
Skid-ree Idle-diddle dum skid-ree Idle-diddle dum
Skid-ree Idle-dum diddle dum day
Peter's Song
 Chorus:
There was Peter sitting in the corner fiddle in his hand
Playing away like you never did hear and you'll never hear again
Charlie on banjo, Shorty on the bodhran everything was grand
Come on Mark and let me in I want to join the band
Then Maeve did come and she let me in and I made my way along
Rafters rang with reels and jigs and someone sang a song
There were flying bows and bodhrans sticks you hadn't room to turn
But there was always a chair and a couple drinks
For the lad who came to learn
Chorus
But then the time said "Gentlemen please," and the gentlemen did go
Some of us might stay a while and sing songs very low
Then Peter he'd play one last song and put away the bow
But his fiddle is still playing no matter where you go
Chorus
It was in the springtime '74 that Peter he did die
And Fergie played the death march it was great Tallaght's town
And as we stood there silently as if from out the grave
Johnny's chickens could be heard and I could see it all again
Chorus
The day that Peter passed away we always will regret
But the things he said and the tunes he played we never will forget
Now the heavenly choir has dropped their lyres
And the angels tugged their harps
The rattle of the penny on the golden gate and this is his remark
Final Chorus:
There was Peter sitting in the corner fiddle in his hand
Playing away like you never did hear and you'll never hear again
St. Paul on banjo, Moses on the bodhran everything was grand
Oh mighty Lord please let me in I want to join the band
North and South of The River
 I want to reach out over the lough And feel your hand across the water Walk with you along an unapproved road Not looking over my shoulder I want to see I want to hear To understand your fears 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 young man running from what he didn't understand As the wind from the lough just blew colder and colder There was a badness that had its way But love was not lostit just got mislaid 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 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 not worth singing North and south of the river North and south of the river
Rosin The Bow
 I've traveled this world all over and now to another I go
And I know that good quarters are waiting for to welcome old Rosin the Bow
To Welcome old Rosin the Bow me lad to welcome old Rosin the Bow
And I know that good quarters are waiting for to welcome old Rosin the Bow
When I'm dead and laid out on the counter a voice you will hear from below
Saying send down a hogs head of whiskey to drink with old Rosin the Bow
To drink with old Rosin the Bow me lad to drink with old Rosin the Bow
Saying send down a hogs head of whiskey to drink with old Rosin the Bow
An get a half dozen stout fellows and stack them up all in a row
Let them drink out of half gallon bottles to the memory of Rosin the Bow
To the memory of Rosin the Bow me lad to the memory of Rosin the Bow
Let them drink out of half gallon bottles to the memory of Rosin the Bow
Get this half dozen stout fellows and let them all stagger and go
And dig a great hole in the meadow and in it put Rosin the Bow
And in it put Rosin the Bow me lad and in it put Rosin the Bow
And dig a great hold in the meadow and in it put Rosin the Bow
Get ye a couple of bottles put one at me head and me toe
With a diamond ring scratch upon them the name of old Rosin the Bow
The name of old Rosin the Bow me lad the name of old Rosin the Bow
With a diamond ring scratch upon them the name of old Rosin the Bow
I feel that old Tyrant approaching that cruel remorseless old foe
And I lift up me glass in his honor take a drink with old Rosin the Bow
Take a drink with old Rosin the Bow me lad take a drink with old Rosin the Bow
And I lift up my glass in his honor take a drink with old Rosin the Bow
Lady of Knock
 There were people of all ages
gathered ‘round the gable wall
poor and humble men and women,
little children that you called
we are gathered here before you,
and our hearts are just the same
filled with joy at such a vision,
as we praise Your Name
Golden Rose, Queen of Ireland,
all my cares and troubles cease
as we kneel with love before you,
Lady of Knock, my Queen of Peace
Though your message was unspoken,
still the truth in silence lies
as we gaze upon your vision,
and the truth I try to find
here I stand with John the teacher,
and with Joseph at your side
and I see the Lamb of God,
on the Altar glorified
Golden Rose, Queen of Ireland,
all my cares and troubles cease
as we kneel with love before you,
Lady of Knock, my Queen of Peace
And the Lamb will conquer and the woman clothed in the sun,
will shine Her light on everyone
and the Lamb will conquer and the woman clothed in the sun,
will shine Her light on everyone
Pat Of Mullingar
You may talk and sing and boast about your Fenians and your clans, And how the boys from County Cork beat up the Black and Tan. But I know a little codger who came out without a scar. His name is Paddy Mulligan, the man from Mullingar. Chorus: The Peelers chased him out of Connemara, For beatin' up the valiant Dan O'Hara. And when he came to Ballymo, he stole the Parson's car, And he sold it to the Bishop in the town of Castlemar. Seven hundred fellers couldn't match him. The Chief sent out the orders for to catch him. And when he came to Dublin Town, he stole an armoured car And he gave it to the I. R. A. brigade in Mullingar. Well the Peelers got their orders to suppress the man on sight. So they sent for reinforcements through the county left and right. Three thousand men surrounded him, they hunted near and far. But he was with the I. R. A. in Johnson's motorcar. They came with tanks and armoured cars, they came with all their might. Them Peelers never counted on old Paddy's dynamite. On the fourteenth day of April, well he blew them to July. And the name of Paddy Mulligan makes the girls of Ireland sigh.
The Flowers of Manchester
 This Tuesday 6th February is the anniversary of the Munich air disaster. This song remembers those who died.One cold and bitter Thursday in Munich, Germany, Eight great football stalwarts conceded victory, Eight men who will never play again who met destruction there, The flowers of English football, the flowers of Manchester Matt Busby's boys were flying, returning from Belgrade, This great United family, all masters of their trade, The Pilot of the aircraft, the skipper Captain Thain, Three times they tried to take off and twice turned back again. The third time down the runaway disaster followed close, There was a slush upon that runaway and the aircraft never rose, It ploughed into the marshy ground, it broke, it overturned. And eight of the team were killed as the blazing wreckage burned. Roger Byrne and Tommy Taylor who were capped for England's side. And Ireland's Billy Whelan and England's Geoff Bent died, Mark Jones and Eddie Colman, and David Pegg also, They all lost their lives as it ploughed on through the snow. Big Duncan he went to, with an injury to his frame, And Ireland's brave Jack Blanchflower will never play again, The great Sir Matt Busby lay there, the father of his team Three long months passed by before he walked again. The trainer, coach and secretary, and a member of the crew, Also eight sporting journalists who with United flew, And one of them Big Swifty, who we'll ne'er forget, The finest English 'keeper that ever graced the net. Oh, England's finest football team its record truly great, Its proud successes mocked by a cruel turn of fate. Eight men will never play again, who met destruction there, The flowers of English football, the flowers of Manchester
One Last Cold Kiss
 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.
'Till 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.
Our Lads in Crumlin Jail
 In Ireland's fight for freedom, boys, the North has played her part
And though her day has yet to come, we never yet must part,
We'll keep the fight until the end, we know we cannot fail.
And there's the reason why today they keep our lads in Crumlin Jail,
So join the fight, you volunteers, it cannot be denied.
That jail won't break their spirits down
They'd just as soon have died for England know
And England hates our fearless Northern name.
And that's another reason why they keep our lads in Crumlin Jail.
We give to Ireland Owen Roe, we give them Shane O'Neill,
And Tone and Mitchell made a vow, that England still would yield,
McKelvey did not die in vain, he was a Northern Gael.
McCracken came from Belfast town, McCorry from the Bann,
And brave Harry Munro at Ballynahinch, but, for his native land,
Tom Williams died on scaffold high, his name shall never fail.
Aidan McAnespie
It was on a sunday Evening The sun shone in the sky As he walked on his way to the Gaelic ground Never thinking he was going to die As he crossed the checkpoint The sound of gunfire came As the news spread through the borders Aiden McAnespie was slain (CHORUS) Oh why did you do it Have you not the guts to say You say it was an accident Or even a a richochet But like Rockall or Gibralter Your lies are well renowned You murdered Aiden McAnespie On his way to the football Ground For years he was harrased By the forces of the Crown As he went to work each morning Out from his native town The soldiers swore they'd get him For reasons no one could say And sure enough they murdered him In cold blood that sunny day (CHORUS) To say it was an accident Was the greatest crim of all To his heart broken family Was the worst that can befall A cross that marks that lonely spot Where Aiden he was shot down As he walked that Sunday evening On his way to the gaelic ground (CHORUS) (BREAK) Aidens life has ended It was time for judgement day A soldier jumped out from a tower And the coward he sniped away Gods curse on you England For this cruelty that you have done But god will have the final say When your day of judgement comes (CHORUS X 2)
| |
Chorus: 
