My cap is frozen to my head

My heart is like a lump of lead

My shoes are frozen to my feet

With standing at your window

Let me in the soldier cried

Cold blow the rainy night

Oh let me in the soldier cried

I'll not go back again - O

My father's walking on the street

My mother the chamber keys do keep

The doors and windows, they do creak

I dare not let you in - O

Let me in the soldier cried

Cold blow and the rainy night

O let me in the soldier cried

For I'll not go back again - O

Oh then she rose and let him in

And kissed his ruby lips and chin

And then they went to bed again

And soon he gained her favor

Then she blessed the rainy night

She rose and let him in - O

Now since you had your will of me

Soldier will you marry me?

No such thing can ever be

So fare you well for ever

Then she cursed the rainy night

Cold blow and the rainy night

O then she cursed the rainy night

That ever she let him in - O

Then he jumped out of the bed

He put his cap upon his head

And she had lost her maidenhead

And her mother heard the din - O

Then she cursed the rainy night

Cold blow and the rainy night

O then she cursed the rainy night

That ever she let him in - O

Christy Moore explains the song's connection with Manchester:

In Dublin town in nineteen sixteen a flame of freedom did arise
A group of men with determination caught an empire by surprise
Through the streets our men were marching
They rallied with their hopes and fears
And the End the boys came searching for their leader Padraig Pearse

Chorus:
The poet and the Irish rebel a Gaelic scholar and a visionary
We gave to him no fitting tribute
When Ireland's at peace only that can be
When Ireland a nation, united and free

On Easter morn he faced the nation from the steps of the G.P.O
And read aloud the proclamation, the seed of nationhood to sow
But soon the word had spread to London of an insurrection there at hand
And the deeds of Padraic Pearse was set about to free his land

For five long days the battle rages, for five long nights the battle wore
We will watch as Dublin City blazes and see our men fall through the floor
No Ireland's proud of her effort for her cause we fought with pride
But to save more life and to save our city, we make our peace with McFainis cried

Kilmainham Jail in 1916, they brought young Pearseto his death cell
And they tried him as a traitor to shoot this man who dared to rebel
He only tried to free his country of the shackles of 800 years
When dawn did break on that May morning they shot our Leader Padraic Pearse

With our nets and gear, we're faring
On the wild and wasteful ocean
It's out there on the deep; we harvest and reap our bread
As we hunt the bonny shoals of herring

Oh it was a fine and pleasant day
Out of Yarmouth harbor I was faring
As a cabin boy on a sailing lugger
For to go and hunt the shoal of herring

Oh the work was hard and the hours were long
And the treatment, sure it took some bearing
There was little kindness and the kicks were many
As we hunted for the shoals of herring

Oh we fished the Swarth and the Broken Bank
I was cook and I'd a quarter sharing
And I used to sleep standing on me feet
And I’d dream about shoals of herring

Oh we left the home grounds in the month of June
And to Canny Sheils we soon were bearing
With a hundred cran of the silver darlings
That we'd taken from the shoals of herring

Now you're up on deck, you're a fisherman
You can swear and show a manly bearing
Take your turn on deck with the other fellows
While you're searching for the shoals of herring

In the stormy seas and the living gales
Just to earn your daily bread, you're daring
From the Dover Straits to the Faroe Islands
As you're following the shoals of herring

Oh I earned me keep and I paid me way
And I earned the gear that I was wearing
Sailed a million miles, caught ten million fishes
We were sailing after shoals of herring

The Ballad of Patrick Sheehan was written by Charles Joseph Kickham about 1860.

With the Irish state commemorating Irish people who fought for Britain in imperialist wars it is appropriate today to recall this powerful ballad which describes how a young man is forced by eviction and near-starvation to join the English Army, although his only wish is to continue farming in Ireland.

He is blinded at the Battle of Sebastopol in the Crimea, but knows he can never return to Aherlow, as he would face the understandable rejection of his neighbours for having enlisted as a British soldier.

Charles Joseph Kickham, born in Tipperary in 1830, became a leader-writer for the Fenian paper the "Irish People". For the humanitarian outflowings of his pen, Kickham was sentenced by the Government to fourteen years' penal servitude. His comment on the conclusion of his trial was terse: "I have endeavoured" he said "to serve Ireland, and now I am prepared to suffer for Ireland". Four years after his conviction he was released.


My name is Patrick Sheehan, and my years are thirty-four;
Tipperary is my native place, not far from Galtymore;
I came of honest parents, but now they're lying low;
Though many's the pleasant days we spent in the Glen of Aherlow.

My father died; I closed his eyes, outside the cabin door;
For the landlord and the sheriff too, were there the day before,
And then my lovin' mother, and my sisters three, also,
Were forced to go with broken hearts, from the Glen of Aherlow

For three long months, in search of work, I wandered far and near;
I then went to the poorhouse to see my mother dear;
The news I heard near broke my heart, but still in all my woe,
I blessed the friends who made their graves in the Glen of Aherlow.

Bereft of home and kith and kin, with plenty all around,
I starved within my cabin, and slept upon the ground;
But cruel as my lot was, I never did hardship know,
Till I joined the English army, far away from Aherlow.

"Rouse up there," cried the corporal, "Ya lazy Irish hound!
Why don't you hear the bugle, its call to arms to sound?
"I found I had been dreaming of the days long, long ago,
And I woke upon Sebastopol, and not in Aherlow

I tried to find my musket, how dark I thought the night!
O blessed God! It wasn't dark, it was the broad daylight!
And when I found that I was blind, my tears began to flow,
And I longed for even a pauper's grave in the Glen of Aherlow.

A poor neglected mendicant, I wander Dublin's streets
My nine months' pension it being out, I beg from all I meet;
As I joined my country's tyrants, my face I can never show,
Amongst my dear old neighbours in the Glen of Aherlow.

So Irish youths, dear countrymen, take heed in what I say;
For if you join the English ranks, you'll surely rue the day
And whenever you're tempted, a-soldiering to go.
Remember poor blind Sheehan from the Glen of Aherlow.

And I know my love by his way of talking

And I know my love dressed in a suit of blue

And if my love leaves me what will I do...

And still she cried, "I love him the best

And a troubled mind sure can know no rest

"And still she cried, "Bonny boys are few

And if my love leaves me what will I do"

There is a dance house in Maradyke

And there my true love goes every night

He takes a strange girl upon his knee

Well now don't you think that that vexes me?

And still she cried, "I love him the best

And a troubled mind sure can know no rest"

And still she cried, "Bonny boys are few

And if my love leaves me what will I do"

If my love knew I can wash and wring

If my love knew I can sew and spin

I'd make a coat of the finest kind

But the want of money sure leaves me behind

And still she cried, "I love him the best

And a troubled mind sure can know no rest"

And still she cried, "Bonny boys are few

And if my love leaves me what will I do"

I know my love is an arrant rover

I know he'll wander the wild world over

In dear old Ireland he'll no longer tarry

An American girl he's sure to marry

And still she cried, "I love him the best

And a troubled mind sure can know no rest"

And still she cried, "Bonny boys are few

And if my love leaves me what will I do"

And still she cried, "I love him the best

And a troubled mind sure can know no rest"

And still she cried, "Bonny boys are few

And if my love leaves me what will I do

"What will I do...