SAM song

 

I have been a Provo now for 15 years or more
with armalites and motorbombs I thought I knew the score
but now we have a weapon, we've never used before
the Brits are looking worried - and their going to worry more!

Tiocfaidh Ar La, sing Up the 'RA
SAM missiles, in the sky

I started off with petrol bomb and throwing bricks and stones
with a 100 more lads like me I never was along
but soon and learned that bricks and stones won't drive the Brits away
it wasn't very long before, I joined the IRA

Then there came Internment in the year of '71
the Brits thought we were beaten that we were on the run
on that early August morning they kicked'in our back door
but for every man they took away, they missed a hundred more

I spent eight years in the cages, I had time to think and plan
for though they locked away a boy, I walked out a man
and there's only one thing that I learned will in their cell I lay
the Brits will never leave us, until their blown away!

All through the days of Hunger strike I watched my comrades die
while in the streets of Belfast you could hear the women cry
I can't forget the massacre that Friday at Loughgall
I salute my fallen comrades, as I watch the choppers fall  
 

			 
SEAN SOUTH OF GARRYOWEN

 

   (spoken)
   Sad are the homes 'round Garryowen
   Since lost their giant pride.
   And the banshee cry links every vale
   Around the Shannon side
   That city of the ancient walls
   The broken treaty stone, undying fame
   Surrounds your name - Sean South of Garryowen

   'Twas on a dreary New Year's Eve
   As the shades of night came down
   A lorry load of volunteers approached a border town
   There were men from Dublin and from Cork
   Fermanagh and Tyrone
   But the leader was a Limerick man -
   Sean South from Garryowen

   And as they moved along the street
   Up to the barracks door
   They scorned the danger they might meet
   Their fate that lay in store
   They were fighting for old Ireland's cause
   To claim their very own
   And the foremost of that gallant band
   Was South of Garryowen

   But the sergeant spoiled their daring plan
   He spied them through the door
   The Sten guns and the rifles 
   A hail of death did pour
   And when that awful night was passed
   Two men lay cold as stone
   There was one from near the border
   And one from Garryowen

   No more he will hear the seagull's cry
   O'er the murmuring Shannon tide
   For he fell beneath a northern sky
   Brave Hanlon by his side
   They have gone to join that gallant band
   Of Plunkett, Pearse, and Tone
   A martyr for old Ireland
   Sean South from Garryowen

			 
SWEET ROSY O'GRADY 
(Maude Nugent) 

Down around the corner of the street where I reside, 
There lives the cutest little girl that I have ever spied. 
Her name is Rose O' Grady and I don't mind telling you 
That she's the sweetest little rose this garden ever grew 

cho: Sweet Rosie O' Grady, 
My dear little Rose. 
She's my steady lady, 
Most ev 'ryone knows; 
And when we are married, 
How happy we'll be; 
I love Sweet Rosie O' Grady and 
Rosie O' Grady loves me. 

I never shall forget the day she promised to be mine 
As we sat telling love-tales in the goldedn summertime 
'Twas on her finger then I placd a small engagement ring 
While in the trees, the little birds, this song they seemed to sing: 

 Stone Outside Dan Murphy's Door

There's a sweet garden spot in my memory
'Tis the place I was born in and reared
'Tis long years ago since I left it
But return there I will if I'm spared
To the friends and companions of childhood
Who'd assemble each night by the score
Round Dan Murphy's shop, and there we would stop
At the stone that stood outside his door
Those days in our hearts we will cherish
Contented although we were poor
And the songs that we sung in the days we were young
On the stone outside Dan Murphy's door

Break

When our days work was over we'd go there
In summer or winter the same
The boys and girls would assemble
And join in some innocent game
Dan Murphy would bring down his fiddle
While his daughter would look after the store
The music would ring and the songs we would sing
On the stone outside Dan Murphy's door
Those days in our hearts we will cherish
Contented although we were poor
And the songs that we sung in the days we were young
On the stone outside Dan Murphy's door
And the songs that we sung in the days we were young
On the stone outside Dan Murphy's door

SHIP'S CARPENTER, THE 

'Twas in Lisburgh of late a fair damsel did dwell; 
Her wit and her beauty no one could e'er tell. 
She was loved by a fair one who called her his dear 
And he by his trade was a ship's carpenteer. 

He says, 'Molly, lovely Molly, if you will agree 
And give your consent, love, for to marry me. 
Your love it would cure me from all sorrow and care 
If you will agree to wed a ship's carpenter.' 

'Twas changing and blushing like a rose in full bloom 
'To marry you,' Willie, you know I'm too young. 
I'm afraid for to venture before I prepare; 
I never will marry a ship's carpenter.' 

Her talk was in vain as he straight took denial, 
And he by his coming soon made her reply. 
'Twas by her exception he led her astray; 
O'er high hills and pathways he did her betray. 

Things passed on for awhile till at length we did hear 
A ship must be sailing all o'er the salt sea. 
It grieved this fair damsel and wounded her heart- 
To think from her darling how soon must she part. 

She says, 'Willie, lovely Willie' are you going on sea? 
Remember those vows that you once made to me. 
If at home you don't tarry I can find no rest, 
Oh how can You leave your poor darling at last ?' 

With tender expression those words he did say: 
'I will marry you, Molly, before I go away. 
If it be tomorrow, and you will come down, 
A ring I will buy you worth one hundred pound.' 

With tender expression they parted that night; 
They promised to meet the next morning by light. 
Says Willie to Molly, 'You must come with me 
And before we are married my friends for to see.' 

He led her through pathways, o'er hills that were steep 
Till this pretty fair one began for to weep, 
Saying, 'False-hearted Willie, you've led me astray, 
Purpose my innocent life to betray.' 

He says, 'You have guessed right; on earth can't you see 
For all of last night I've been digging your grave.' 
When innocent Molly she heard him say so, 
Tears from her eyes like a fountain did flow. 

'Twas a grave with a spade lying there she did spy 
Which caused her to sigh and to weep bitterly. 
O false-hearted Willie, you're the worst of mankind. 
Is this the bride's bed I expected to find? 

'Tis pity my infant and spare me my life; 
Let me live full of shame if I can't be your wife. 
Take not my life, for my soul you'll betray 
And you (to perdition) soon hurried away.' 

There's no time to be waiting, disputing to stand. 
He instantly taking a knife in his hand, 
He pierced her bosom and the blood down did flow, 
And into the grave her poor body he throwed. 

He covered her over and then hurried home, 
Leaving none but the small birds her fate to be known. 
He then sailed on board without more delay; 
He sad sailed for Plowmount far o'er the salt sea. 

'Twas a young man named Stewart with courage so brave, 
The night it was dark as he went to the wave. 
A beauty fair damsel to him did appear, 
She held in her arrums an infant most dear. 

Being merry with liquor, he ran to embrace, 
Transported with joy at her beautiful face, 
But by his amazement she vanished away. 
He told to the captain without more delay. 

The captain soon summoned his jolly ship's crew. 
'Oh my brave young fellows, I fear some of you 
Has murdered that fair one and then come with me; 
Her poor spirit haunts you all o'er the salt sea.' 

Then false-hearted Willie he fell to his knees 
And the blood in his veins all like horror did freeze, 
Crying, 'Monster, oh lover, oh what have I done ? 
God help me, I fear my poor soul is undone.' 

'You poor injured fair one, your pardon I crave; 
How soon must I follow you down to the grave! 
There's none but you, fair one, to see that sad sight.' 
And by her distraction he died the same night. 

SCHOONER FRED DUNBAR 
(Amos Hanson)

You darling girls of Bagaduce who live along the shore 
'Tis little do you think or know what sailors do endure 
Or if you did, you would treat them with more respect than before 
You never would go with a landloper while sailors are on shore 

Oh those Penobscot cowboys will tell you girls fine tales 
Of the hardships they endure while they are in the cornfields 
While they feed their hens and punch their pigs and make their mothers roar 
While we, like jovial-hearted boys, go to the Bay Chaleur 

You darling girls of Bagaduce perhaps you'd like to know 
The names of all our sailors before we start to go 
Their names and dispositions, I'll endeavor to explain 
Before we set our canvas to plough the raging main 

The first was Hiram Wardwell who runs the Rory O'More 
The next was Captain Perkins who roams the golden shore 
They're very much respected by all both fore and aft 
Two better men cannot be found on an Androscoggin raft 

There was little Herman, Leroy and Bill, and Oliver Quinn and Steel 
And Amos H. the author, who an entry sheep did steal 
The next was little Owen, who loves the girls so well 
The last was young Horatio - we called him the Admiral 

On board of the Schooner Fred Dunbar, well found in fishing gear 
We crowded on our canvas, for Green's Landing we did steer 
When we arrived at anchor, the sun was very low 
'Twas there we shipped young Stinson and Captain Mood Thurlew 

When we arrived at Port McGrave, we hauled in for our salt 
We took our little fiddle to have a little waltz 
There was twelve of us when we started, our songs through the woods did roar 
When we arrived, I was surprised, I could not count but four 

The first day of September, broad off Cape Mardean 
We struck a squall from our south-southeast which broke our boom in two 
So gallantly she weathered it and it was fine to see 
She walked to the windward with mainsail down, bound out to Margaree 

The last day of September will be remembered well 
And how poor sailors fared that night, no tongue can ever tell 
The wind blew high, the seas grew rough, and in torrents fell the rain 
I never saw such a night before and hope I shan't again 

You darling girls of Bagaduce, the time is drawing nigh 
When soon you'll see the Stars and Stripes from the Fred's main topmast fly 
Get ready, gallant lasses, put on your other gowns 
For soon you'll see the Fred Dunbar come sailing up to town 

O now this voyage is ended and we've arrived on shore 
With our pockets full of greenbacks we have earned to the Bay Chaleur 
So merrily we'll dance and sing, as we have done before, 
And when our money is all gone, we'll plough the bay some more. 

SEA AROUND US, THE

They say that the lakes of Killarney are fair
That no stream like the Liffey can ever compare
If it's water you want, you'll find nothing more rare
Than the stuff they make down by the ocean

Chorus:
The sea, oh the sea is the gradh geal mo croide
Long may it stay between England and me
It's a sure guarantee that some hour we'll be free
Oh, thank God we're surrounded by water

Tom Moore made his "Waters" meet fame and reknown
A great lover of anything dressed in a crown
In brandy the bandy old Saxon he'd drown
But throw ne'er a one in the ocean

The Scots have their Whisky, the Welch have their speech
And their poets are paid about tenpence a week
Provided no hard words on England they speak
Oh Lord, what a price for devotion

The Danes came to Ireland with nothing to do
But dream of the plundered old Irish they slew
"Yeh will in yer vikings" said Brian Boru
And threw them back into the ocean

Two foreign old monarchs in battle did join
Each wanting his head on the back of a coin;
If the Irish had sense they'd drowned both in the Boyne
And partition thrown into the ocean

SEVEN DRUNKEN NIGHTS (1)

As I went home on Monday night
As drunk as drunk could be
I saw a horse outside the door
Where my old horse should be
Well I called me wife and I said to her
Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that horse outside the door
Where my old horse should be

Oh you're drunk youre drunk you silly old fool
Still you cannot see
That's a lovely sow that me mother sent to me
Well it's many a day I've travelled
A hundred miles or more
But a saddle on a sow sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Tuesday night
As drunk as drunk could be
I saw a coat behind the door
Where my old coat should be
Well I called me wife and I said to her
Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that coat behind the door
Where my old coat should be

Oh you're drunk you're drunk you silly old fool
Still you cannot see
Thats a wollen blanket that me mother sent to me
Well it's many a day I've travelled
A hundred miles or more
But buttons on a blanket sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Wednesday night
As drunk as drunk could be
I saw a pipe upon the chair
Where my old pipe should be
Well I called me wife and I said to her
Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that pipe upon the chair
Where my old pipe should be

Oh you're drunk you're drunk you silly old fool
Still you cannot see
That's a lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me
Well it's many a day I've travelled
A hundred miles or more
But tobacco in a tin whistle sure I never saw before

And as I went home on Thursday night
As drunk as drunk could be
I saw two boots beneath the bed
Where my old boots should be
Well I called me wife and I said to her
Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns them boots beneath the bed
Where my old boots should be

Oh you're drunk you're drunk you silly old fool
Still you cannot see
They're two lovely geranium pots me mother sent to me
Well it's many a day I've travelled
A hundred miles or more
But laces in geranium pots I never saw before

And as I went home on Friday night
As drunk as drunk could be
I saw a head upon the bed
Where my old head should be
Well I called me wife and I said to her
Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that head upon the bed
Where me old head should be

Oh you're drunk you're drunk you silly old fool
Still you cannot see
That's a baby boy that me mother sent to me
Well it's many a day I've travelled
A hundred miles or more
But a baby boy with whiskers on sure I never saw before

As I went home on Saturday night
As drunk as drunk could be
I saw two hands upon her breasts
Where me two hands should be
Well I called my wife and I said to her
Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that hands upon your breasts
Were me two hands should be

Oh you're drunk you're drunk you silly old fool
Still you cannot see
That's a lovely night gown that me mother sent to me
Well it's many a day I travelled
A hundred miles and more
But fingers in a night gown sure I never saw before

As I went home on Sunday night
As drunk as drunk could be
I saw a thing in her thing
Where me old thing should be
Well I called my wife and I said to her
Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that thing in your thing
Where me old thing should be

Oh you're drunk you're drunk you silly old fool
Still you cannot see
That's that lovely tin whistle that me mother sent to me
Well it's many a day I travelled
A hundred miles and more
But hair on a tin whistle sure I never saw before

SEVEN DRUNKEN NIGHTS (2)

As I went home on Monday night, as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a horse outside the door, where my old horse should be
I called my wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
who owns that horse outside the door, where my old horse should be?
Oh, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool, and still you cannot see
That's a lovely sow that my mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've traveled, a hundred miles or more
but a saddle on a sow, sure, I never saw before

As I went home on Tuesday night, as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a coat behind the door, where my old coat should be
I called my wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
who owns that coat behind the door, where my old coat should be?
Oh, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool, and still you cannot see
That's a woolen blanket that my mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've traveled, a hundred miles or more
but buttons on a blanket, sure, I never saw before

As I went home on Wednesday night, as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a pipe upon the chair, where my old pipe should be
I called my wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
who owns that pipe upon the chair where my old pipe should be
Oh, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool, and still you cannot see
That's a lovely tin-whistle, that my mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've traveled, a hundred miles or more
but tobacco in a tin-whistle, sure, I never saw before

As I came home on Thursday night, as drunk as drunk could be
I saw two boots beside the bed, where my old boots should be
I called my wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
who owns them boots beside the bed where my old boots should be
Oh, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool, and still you cannot see
They're two lovely flower pots my mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've traveled, a hundred miles or more
but laces in flower pots I never saw before

As I came home on Friday night, as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a head upon the bed, where my old head should be
I called my wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
who owns that head upon the bed, where my old head should be
Oh, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool, and still you cannot see
That's a baby boy, that my mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've traveled, a hundred miles or more
but a baby boy with his whiskers on, sure, I never saw before

As I came home on a Saturday night, as drunk as drunk could be
I spied two hands upon her breasts, where my old hands should be
I called to my wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who's hands are these upon your breasts, where my old hands should be?
Oh, you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool, and still you cannot see
'Tis nothing but a Living Bra Jane Russell gave to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
but fingernails on a Living Bra, I never saw before

Now when I came home on Sunday night, a little after three
I saw a man running out the door with his pants about his knee
So I called to my wife and I said to her: would you kindly tell to me
who was that man running out the door with his pants about his knee?
Oh you're drunk, you're drunk, you silly old fool, and still you cannot see
Twas nothing but the tax collector the Queen sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled, a hundred miles or more
But an Englishman that could last 'till three I never saw before

SHORES OF AMERIKAY, THE

I'm bidding farewell to the land of my youth
and the home I love so well
And the mountains so grand round my own native land
I'm bidding them all farewell
With an aching heart I'll bid them adieu
for tomorrow I'll sail far away
O'er the raging foam for to seek a home
on the shores of Amerikay

It's not for the want of employment I'm going
It's not for the love of fame
That fortune bright, may shine over me
and give me a glorious name
It's not for the want of employment I'm going
o'er the weary and stormy sea
But to seek a home for my own true love
on the shores of Amerikay

And when I am bidding my last farewell
the tears like rain will blind
To think of my friends in my own native land
and the home I'm leaving behind
But if I'm to die in a foreign land
and be buried so far far away
No fond mother's tears will be shed o'er my grave
on the shores of Amerikay

		 
	Shanagolden		 
Words: Margaret Middleton
Music: "I Gave My Love A Cherry" trad.

  The cold winds from the mountains are calling soft to me,
  The smell of scented heather brings bitter memories:
  And the wild and lonely eagle sweeps high up in the sky
  O'er the fields of Shanagolden, where my young Willie died.
 
  I met him in the wintertime, when the snow was on the ground.
  The Dorsai hills were peaceful, and love was all around.
  He was scarce nineteen years old, a young man fine and brave.
  We were married, me and Willie, on the morn of New Year's Day.
 
  The came the call to arms, and the hills they were in flame.
  Down from the silent heavens, the Terran strangers came.
  I held his in my arms, then, my young heart wild with fear,
  In the fields near Shanagolden, in the springtime of the year.
 
  And we fought them, I and Willie, to hold our rooftrees-ground.
  You could hear the rifles' firing, in the mountains all around.
  I held him in my arms again, and his blood ran free and bright,
  And he died near Shanagolden, on a moonlit summer night.
 
  But that was long ago, now, and our son grows fine and strong;
  The Dorsai hills are at peace again: the Terran stangers gone.
  We'll place a red rose on the grave, in the silvery pale moonlight,
  And I'll dream of Shanagolden, on a lonely autumn night.			 

Sing, Irishman, Sing!

I dream of a beautiful picture 
No more need we think of the past 
They're singing and dancing in Ireland 
And the people are happy at last. 

Sing, Irishman, sing 
So the sound of your voices will ring 
And let the world know, it really is so 
Sing, Irishman, sing. 

There's laughter in Belfast and Derry 
The music rings over the land 
In Calvin, Kilkenny and Kerry. 
Oh, boys, I can tell you, it's grand. 

No more need little ones suffer 
The rifles will bring no more pain 
They're singing and dancing in Ireland 
And the people are happy again. 

I know that it's only a dream now 
But my hopes will always remain 
To see the sun shine over Ireland 
And the people are happy again.

SHULE AGRA
(also called JOHNNY HAS GONE FOR A SOLDIER)

With fife and drum he marched away
He would not heed what I did say
He'll not come back for many a day
Johnny has gone for a soldier

Chorus:
  Shule shule shule shule agra
  Sure a sure and he loves me
  When he comes back he'll marry me
  Johnny has gone for a soldier

I'll go up on Portland hill
And there I'll sit and cry my fill
And every tear should turn a mill
Johnny has gone for a soldier

I'll sell my rock, I'll sell my reel
I'll sell my flax and spinning wheel
To buy my love a sword of steel
Johnny has gone for a soldier

I'll dye my petticoats crimson red
Through the world I'll beg my bread
I'll find my love alive or dead
Johnny has gone for a soldier

SKIBBEREEN (1)

O, Father dear, I ofttimes heard you talk of Erin's Isle
Her valleys green, her lofty scene, her mountains rude and wild
You said it was a pleasant place wherein a prince might dwell
Why have you then forsaken her, the reason to me tell?

My son, I loved our native land with energy and pride
Until a blight fell on the land and sheep and cattle died
The rents and taxes were to pay, I could not them redeem
And that's the cruel reason why I left Old Skibbereen

It's well I do remember on a bleak November's day
The landlord and his agent came to drive us all away
He set my house on fire with his demon yellow spleen
And that's another reason why I left Old Skibbereen

Your mother, too, God rest her soul, lay on the snowy ground
She fainted in her anguish of the desolation round
She never rose, but went her way from life to death's long dream
And found a quiet grave, my boy, in lovely Skibbereen

It's well I do remember the year of forty-eight
When we arose with Erin's boys to fight against our fate
I was hunted through the mountains as a traitor to the Queen
And that's another reason that I left Old Skibbereen

Oh father dear, the day will come when vengeance loud will call
And we'll arise with Erin's boys and rally one and all
I'll be tbe man to lead the van, beneath our flag of green
And loud and high we'll raise the cry, "Revenge for Skibbereen!"

SKIBBEREEN (2)

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 son, I loved my native land with energy and pride
Till a blight came o'er the praties; my sheep, my cattle died
My rent and taxes went unpaid, I could not them redeem
And that's the cruel reason why I left old Skibbereen

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

Your mother too, God rest her soul, fell on the stony ground
She fainted in her anguish seeing desolation 'round
She never rose but passed away from life to immortal dream
She found a quiet grave, me boy, in dear old Skibbereen

And you were only two years old and feeble was your frame
I could not leave you with my friends for you bore your father's name
I wrapped you in my cóta mór in the dead of night unseen
I heaved a sigh and bade goodbye to dear old Skibbereen

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!

SLANE (BE THOU MY VISION)

Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart
Naught be all else to me save that thou art
Thou my best thought by day or by night
Waking or sleeping thy presence my light

Be thou my wisdom, thou my true word
I ever with thee, thou with me, Lord
Thou my great Father, I thy true Son
Thou in me dwelling, and I with thee one

Be thou my battleshield, sword for the fight
Be thou my dignity, thou my delight
Thou my soul's shelter, thou my high tower
Raise thou me heavenward, O power of my power

Riches I heed not, nor man's empty praise
Thou mine inheritance, now and always
Thou and thou only, first in my heart
High King of heavem, my treasure thou art

High King of heaven, after victory won
May I reach heaven's joys, O bright heaven's sun
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall
Still be my vision, O ruler of all

SLIEVENAMON

Alone, all alone, by the wave-washed strand
All alone in the crowded hall
The hall it is gay, and the waves they are grand
But my heart is not here at all
It flies far away, by night and by day
To the times and the joys that are gone
But I never will forget the sweet maiden I met
In the valley of Slievenamon

It was not the grace of her queenly aire
Nor her cheek of the rose's glow
Nor her soft black eyes, not her flowing hair
Nor was it her lily white brow
Twas the soul of truth, and of melting ruth
And the smile like a summer dawn
That sold my heart away on a soft summer day
In the valley of Slievenamon

In the festival hall, by the star-washed shore
Ever my restless spirit cries
"My love, oh, my love, shall I ne'er see you more
And my land, will you never uprise?"
By night and by day, I ever, ever pray
While lonely my life flows on
To see our flag unfurled and my true love to enfold
In the valley of Slievenamon

Snipers promise

The night was icy cold I stood along
I was waiting for an army foot patrol
And when at last they came into my site
I squeezed the trigger of my armalite

Oh Mama, oh Mama comfort me
For I know these things have got to be
But when the war for freedom has been won
I promise you I'll put away my gun.

A shot rang out, I heard a soldier cry
"Oh please don't leave me here alone to die"
I realized his patrol had run away
And left their wounded comrade for me to slay.

"There's nothing in this world I would not do
If there's mercy in your heart you'll let me live"
And in his eyes I saw a look of pain
As the mussel of my gun moved towards his brain.

The dawn was breaking as I reached my base
I will not forget the look on that boy's face
Fear, agony, and torment where all there
Oh but to your memory, mother, his life I spared.

SNOWY BREASTED PEARL, THE

There's a colleen fair as May
For a year and for a day
I have sought by every way
Her heart to gain
There's no art of tongue or eye
Fond youths with maidens try
But I've tried with ceaseless sigh
Yet tried in vain

If to France or far off Spain
She crossed the wat'ry main
To see her face again the seas I'd brave
And if it's heaven's decree
That mine she'll never be
May the Son of Mary me in mercy save

But a kiss with welcome bland
And the touch of thy fair hand
Are all that I demand
Would'st thou not spurn
For if not mine, dear girl
My snowy breasted pearl
May I never from the fair
With life return

SPANCIL HILL

Last night as I lay dreamin'
Of pleasant days gone by
Me mind bein' bent on travelin'
To Ireland I did fly
I stepped aboard a vision
and followed with my will
'Til next I came to anchor
At the cross near Spancil Hill

Delighted by the novelty
Enchanted with the scene
Where in my early boyhood
Where often I had been
I thought I heard a murmur
And think I hear it still
It's the little stream of water
That flows down Spancil Hill

It being the 23rd of June
The day before the fair
Where Ireland's sons and daughters
In crowds assembled there
The young, the old, the brave and the bold
They came for sport and kill
There were jovial conversations
At the cross near Spancil Hill

I went to see my neighbours
To hear what they might say
The old ones were all dead and gone
The others turning grey
I met with tailor Quigley
He's as bold as ever still
Sure he used to make my britches
When I lived in Spancil Hill

I paid a flying visit
To my first and only love
She's white as any lily
And gentle as a dove
She threw her arms around me
Saying Johnny I love you still
She's Meg the farmers daughter
And the pride of Spancil Hill

I dreamt I stooped and kissed her
As in the day of 'ore
She said Johnny you're only joking
As many the times before
The cock crew in the morn'
He crew both loud and shrill
And I woke in California
Many miles from Spancil Hill

SPANISH LADY, THE

As I went out through Dublin City at the hour of twelve at night,
Who would I see but the Spanish Lady
Washing her feet by candle light
First she washed them then she dried them
O'er a fire of amber coals
In all my life I ne'er did see a maid so sweet about the soul

Chorus:
Whack fol de turalura ladie
Whack fol de turalureley
Whack fol de turalura ladie
Whack fol de turalureley

As I came back through Dublin City at the time of half past eight
Who would I see but the Spanish Lady
Brushing her hair so trim and neat
First she teased it then she brushed it
On her lap was a silver comb
In all my life I ne'er did see so fair a maid since I did roam

Chorus

As I went round old Dublin City when the sun began to set
Who would I spy but the Spanish Lady
Catching a moth in a golden net
When she saw me quick she fled me
Lifting her petticoats over her knee
In all my life I ne'er did see a maid so shy as the Spanish Lady

I stopped to look but the watchman passed says he "young fella now the night is late
Along with you now or I will wrestle you
Straight way throught the Bride-well Gate"
I blew a kiss to the Spanish LAdy
Hot as a fire of my angry coals
In all my life I ne'er did see a maid so sweet about the soul

As I went out through Dublin City as the hour of dawn was over
Who shoul I see but the Spanish Lady
I was lonely and footsore
First she coaxed me then she chid me
Then she laughed at my sad plight
In all my life I ne'er did see a maid so sweet as on that night

I've wandered north and I've wandered south through Stoneybatter and Patrick's Close
Up and around by the Gloucester Diamond
Round by Napper Tandy's house
Old age had laid her hand on me
Cold as fire of ashey coals
But were is the lovely Spanish Lady, neat and sweet about the soul.

SPINNING WHEEL SONG, THE

Mellow the moonlight to shine is beginning
Close by the window young Eileen is spinning
Bent o'er the fire her blind grandmother sitting
Crooning and moaning and drowsily knitting

Merrily cheerily noiselessly whirring
Spins the wheel, rings the wheel while the foot's stirring
Sprightly and lightly and merrily ringing
Sounds the sweet voice of the young maiden singing

Eileen, a chara, I hear someone tapping
'Tis the ivy dear mother against the glass flapping
Eileen, I surely hear somebody sighing
'Tis the sound mother dear of the autumn winds dying

What's the noise I hear at the window I wonder?
'Tis the little birds chirping, the holly-bush under
What makes you shoving and moving your stool on
And singing all wrong the old song of the "Coolin"?

There's a form at the casement, the form of her true love
And he whispers with face bent, I'm waiting for you love
Get up from the stool, through the lattice step lightly
And we'll rove in the grove while the moon's shining brightly

The maid shakes her head, on her lips lays her fingers
Steps up from the stool, longs to go and yet lingers
A frightened glance turns to her drowsy grandmother
Puts her foot on the stool spins the wheel with the other

Lazily, easily, now swings the wheel round
Slowly and lowly is heard now the reel's sound
Noiseless and light to the lattice above her
The maid steps, then leaps to the arms of her lover

Slower and slower... and slower the wheel swings
Lower... and lower... and lower the reel rings
Ere the reel and the wheel stop their ringing and moving
Through the grove the young lovers by moonlight are roving

STAR OF THE COUNTY DOWN (1)
(Lyrics: Cathal McGarvey, a poet of the second half of the 19th century)

Near to Banbridge town, in the County Down
one morning in July
Down a boreen green came a sweet colleen
and she smiled as she passed me by
Oh she looked so neat from her two white feet
to the sheen of her nut-brown hair
Sure the coaxing elf, I'd to shake myself
to make sure I was standing there

Chorus:
Oh from Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
and from Galway to Dublin town
No maid I've seen like the sweet colleen
that I met in the County Down

As she onward sped I shook my head
and I gazed with a feeling queer
And I said, says I, to a passer-by
"Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?"
Oh, he smiled at me and with pride says he:
"That's the gem of Ireland's crown
She's young Rosie McCann, from the banks of the Bann
she's the Star of the County Down"

She'd a soft brown eye and a look so sly
and a smile like the rose in June
And you hung on each note from her lily-white throat
as she lilted an Irish tune
At the pattern dance you were held in trance
as she tripped through a reel or a jig
And when her eyes she'd roll
she'd coax upon my soul a spud from a hungry pig

I've travelled a bit but never was hit
since my roving career began
But fair and square I surrendered thee
to the charm of young Rosie McCann
With a heart to let and no tenant yet
did I meet within shawl or gown
But in she went and I asked no rent
from the Star of the County Down

At the crossroads fair I'll be surely there
and I'll dress in my Sunday clothes
And I'll try sheep's eyes and deludering lies
on the heart of the nut-brown Rose
No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke
though my plough with rust turns brown
Till a smiling bride by my own fireside
sits the Star of the County Down

STAR OF THE COUNTY DOWN (2)

Near Banbridge town, in the County Down
One morning in July
Down the boreen came a sweet colleen
And she smiled as she passed me by
Oh, she looked so neat from her two bare feet
To the crown of her nut-brown hair
Such a winsome elf, that I pinched myself
To be sure I was really there

Chorus:
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
And from Galway to Dublin town
No maid I've seen like the sweet colleen
That I met in the County Down

As she onward sped I shook my head
And I gazed with a feeling rare
And I said, says I, to a passer-by
"Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?"
Oh, he smiled at me, and with pride says he
"That's the gem of all Ireland's crown
Young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann
She's the Star of the County Down"

Chorus

At the harvest fair she'll be surely there
And I'll dress in my Sunday clothes
With my shoes shined bright and my hat just right
Win the heart of the nut-brown Rose
No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke
And my plow will rust and brown
'Til a smiling bride by my own fireside
Sits the Star of the County Down

STEP IT OUT MARY

In the village of Kildoran lived a maiden young and fair
Her eyes, they shone like diamonds, she had long and golden hair
the countryman came riding up to her daddy's gate
mounted on a milk-white stallion, he came at the stroke of eight

Step it out Mary, my fine daughter, step it out Mary if you can
Step it out Mary, my fine daughter, show your legs to the countryman

I have come to court your daughter. Mary of the golden hair
I have gold and I have silver, I have lands beyond compare
I will buy her silks and satins and a gold ring for her hand
I will buy her a mansion, she'll have servants to command

Step it out Mary, my fine daughter, step it out Mary if you can
Step it out Mary, my fine daughter, show your legs to the countryman

Oh kind Sir I have a soldier and I've pledged to him my hand
I don't want your gold nor silver, I don't want your horse nor land
Mary's father spoke up sharply, you will do as you are told
you'll mary him on sunday and you'll wear the ring of gold

Step it out Mary, my fine daughter, step it out Mary if you can
Step it out Mary, my fine daughter, show your legs to the countryman

In the village of Kildoran there's a deep stream running by
They found Mary there on sunday, she had drowned with soldier boy
In the cottage there is music, you can hear her daddy say
Step it out Mary my fine daughter, sunday is your wedding day

STREETS OF NEW YORK, THE

I was eighteen years old, when I went down to Dublin
with a fistful of money and a cartload of dreams
"Take your time", said me father "stop rushing like hell
And remember all is not what it seems to be
For there's fellows would cut you for the coat on your back
Or the watch that you got from your mother
So take care me young buck-o and mind yourself well
And will you give this wee note to me brother"

At the time Uncle Benjy was a policeman in Brooklyn
And me father the youngest looked after the farm
When a phone call from America said 'Send the lad over'
And the ould fella said sure it wouldn't do any harm
For I spoent my life working this dirty old ground
For a few pints of porter and the smell of a pound
And sure maybe there's something you'll learn or you'll see
And you can bring it back home, make it easy on me

So I landed at Kennedy and a big yellow taxi
Carried me and my bags through the streets and the rain
Well my poor heart was pumping around with excitement
And I hardly even heard what the driver was saying
We came in the short parkway to the flatlands in Brooklyn
To my uncle's apartment on East 53rd
I was feeling so happy I was humming a song
And I sang you're as "Free as a bird"

Well to shorten the story what I found out that day
Was that Benjy got shot in a downtown foray
And while I was flyng my way to New York
Poor Benjy was lying in a cold city morgue
Well I phoned up the ould fella, told him the news
I could tell he could hardly stand up in his shoes
And he wept as he told me, go ahead with the plan
And not to forget to be a proud Irishman

So I went up to Nelly's beside Fordham Road
And I started to learn about lifting the load
But the healthiest thing that I carried that year
Was the bitter sweet thoughts of my home town so dear
I went home that December 'cause the old fella died
Had to borrow the money from Phil on the side
And all the bright flowers and grass couldn't hide
The poor wasted face of my father

I sold up the old farmyard for what it was worth
And into my bag stuck a handful of earth
Then I boarded a train and I caught me a plane
And I found myself back in the U.S. again
It's been twenty-two years since I set foot in Dublin
The kids know to use the correct knife and fork
But I'll never forget the green grass and the rivers
As I keep law and order in the streets of New York

SULLIVAN'S JOHN

Sullivan's John to the road you've gone, far away from your native home
You've gone with the tinker's daughter far along the road to roam
Sullivan's John sure you won't stick it long when your belly will soon get slack
When you're roaming the road with a mighty load and a toodle box on your back

I met Katey Coffey with her neat baby behind on her back strapped on
She'd an old ash plant all in her hand for to drive her donkey on
Enquiring at every farmer's house that along the road she passed
Where would she find an old pot to mend and where would she swap an ass

There's a hairy ass fair in the County Claire in a place they call Spancil Hill
Where my brother James got a rap on the head and poor Paddy they tried to kill
They loaded him up in an ass and cart while Kate and Mary stood by
Bad luck to the day that I went away to join with the tinkers band

SUMMER IN DUBLIN

Take me away from the city
And lead me to where I can be on my own
I wanted to see you but now that I have
I just want to be left alone
I'll always remember your kind words
And I'll still remember your name
But I've seen you changing and turning
And I know that things won't be the same

Chorus:
I remember that summer in Dublin
And the Liffey it stank like hell
And the young people walking on Grafton Street
And everyone looking so well
I was singing a song I heard somewhere
Called Rock and Roll Never Forgets
When my hum it was smothered by a 46A
And the scream of a low-flying Jet
So I jumped on a bus to Dun Laoghaire
Stopping off to pick up my guitar
And a drunk on the bus told me how to get rich
I was glad we weren't going too far

So I'm leaving on Wednesday morning
Tryin' to find a place where I can hear
Where the wind and the birds and the sea and the rocks
And where open roads always are near
And if sometimes I tire of the quiet and I want to walk back up that hill
I'll just get on the road and I'll stick out my thumb
I know that you'll be there still

Chorus

Sunday Bloody Sunday
John Lennon

Well it was Sunday Bloody Sunday
When they shot the people there
The cries of 13 martyrs
Filled the Free Derry air
Is there anyone amongst you
Dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding
When they nailed the coffin lids

Sundy Bloody Sunday
Bloody Sunday´s the day!

You claim to be majority
Well you know that it´s a lie
You´re really a minority
On the sweet Emerald Isle
When Stormont bans our marches
They´ve got a lot to learn
Internment is no answer
It´s those mothers turn to burn

You Anglo pigs and Scotties
Sent to colonise the North
You wave your bloody Union Jacks
And you know what it´s worth
How dare you hold to ransom
A people proud and free
Keep Ireland for the Irish
Put the English back to sea

Yes it´s always bloody Sunday
In the concentration camps
Keep the Falls Road free forever
From the bloody English hands
Repatriate to Britain
All of you who call it home
Leave Ireland to the Irish
Not for London or for Rome!!

Supergrass

Now when Ireland we rosen up at last
Theres the UDR the Army and the SAS
But the lowest of the low is the foe you do not know
And thats the man they call the supergrass

Singing rifa ter a ludy tera lee
Theres no one who can tell a lie like me
You can search until you tire youll never find a bigger liar
Im the supergrass youve seen me on TV

I can name you people I have never seen
I can tell you places I have never been
For if the moneys right I could tell black was white
I could tell you Gerry Adams loves the queen

Spare a thought for poor Kirkpatrick and for Black
Sure theyre nervous now that Gilmours got the sack
For they put their trust in villains and they took the saxon shillings
Their own hands put the noose around their necks

To my native land I bid a fond farewell
Where Im going is the one thing I wont tell
But Ill keep a watch behind for if anyman should find me
The only place Ill ever go is hell

You might see my face in some exotic bar
In New Zealand or far off Africa
I have no friends or relations I betrayed the Irish nation
Thirty silver pieces doesnt get you far

THE SOLDIERS OF CUMMAN NA mBANN 

All honour to Óglaigh na hÉireann 
All praisec to the men of our race 
Who in days of betrayal and slavery 
Saved Ireland from ruin and disgrace 
But do not forget in your praising 
Of them and the deeds they have done 
Their loyal and true-hearted comrades 
The soldiers of Cumman na mBann 

They stand for the honour of Ireland 
As their sisters in days that have gone 
They march with their comrades to freedom 
The soldiers of Cumman na mBann 

No brave-hearted daughter of Ireland 
Who died for her sake long ago 
Who stood in the Gap of Danger 
Defying assassin and foe 
Was ever more valiant or worthy 
Of glory and high sounding rann 
Than the comrades of Óglaigh na hÉireann 
The soldiers of Cumman na mBann 

Chorus 

High beats the heart of our mother 
The day she has longed for is nigh 
When the sunlight of joy and of freedom 
Shall glow in the eastern sky 
And none shall be honoured more proudly 
That morning by chieftan and clan 
Than the comrades of Óglaigh na hÉireann 
The soldiers of Cumman na mBann 

Chorus 

SHALL MY SOUL PASS THROUGH OLD IRELAND? 

In a dreary Brixton prison 
Where an Irish rebel lay 
By his side a priest was kneeling 
'Ere his soul should pass away 
Then he faintly murmered "Father" 
As he clasped him by the hand 
"Tell me this before I die 
Shall my soul pass through Ireland? 

Shall my soul pass through old Ireland 
Pass through Cork City grand 
Shall I see the old cathedral 
Where St. Patrick took his stand 
Shall I see that little chapel 
Where I pledged my heart and hand 
Then Father tell me truly 
Shall my soul pass through Ireland? 

'Twas for loving dear old Ireland 
In this prison cell I lie 
'Twas for loving dear old Ireland 
In this foreign land I'll die 
Will you meet my little daughter 
Will you make her understand 
Then Father tell me truly 
Shall my soul pass through Ireland?" 

With his heart pure as a lily 
And his body sanctified 
In that dreary British prison 
That brave Irish rebel died 
Prayed the priest that wish be granted 
As in blessing raised his hand 
"Father grant this brave man's prayer 
May his soul pass through Ireland"