An American Wake
Bolts & Locks
All in my arms I had her
But when I woke found nothing so
No man on earth was madder
I went onto her uncle’s house
Expecting there to find her
Her uncle said she is not here
Which set my heart on fire
I turned around to go away
My love came to the window
Saying Dear, I’d keep your company
But bolts & locks should enter
My passions flew, my sword I drew
I swore that room I’d enter
And by that means gain sweet Liberty
So soon as I did enter
Her uncle and another man
Immediately followed
Saying If you do not quit this room
All in you blood shall wallow
My passions flew, my sword I drew
I swore that room I’d enter
And by that means gain sweet Liberty
So soon as I did enter
I took my love by the right hand
My broadsword in the other
Come all young men who love like me
Take one and fight the other.
Lady Margaret
Combing her long yellow hair
She saw Sweet William and his new made Bride
Coming from the church so near
She throwd down her ivory comb
Throwd back her long yellow hair
“I will go and bid him farewell,
Never no more go there.”
It was all lately in the night
When they was fast asleep
Lady Margaret came in dressed in white
Standing at their bed feet
“How do you like your pillow?” she said
“How do you like your sheet?
How do you like your fair young lady
Lying in your arms alseep?”
“It’s well do I like my pillow.”
“Well do I like my sheet.
Better do I like the fair Lady Margaret
Standing at my bed feet.”
It’s once he’s kissed her lilly white hand
Twice he’s kissed her cheek
Three times he’s kissed her cold corpsy lips
Fell into her arms asleep
The night was gone and morning come on
And all men was awake
Sweet William arose with trouble on his mind
And the dream he dreamed last night
“Such dreams, such dreams as I dreamed last night
Such dreams can never be good
I dreamed my room was full of wild swine
My bride bed full of blood”
So he road out to Lady Margaret’s hall
And loudly pulled on the ring
There’s none so quick as her own seventh Brother
To rise and let him in
“Is Lady Margaret all in her room?
Or is she in the hall”
“No Margaret’s in her cold black coffin
With her pale face to the wall”
The Flash Lad
I was brought up in a tender state.
Bad company did me entice,
I left off work and took bad advice.
Chorus:
Which makes me now to lament and say,
Pity the fate of young felons all
Well-a-day, Well-a-day
I robbed Lord Baldwin, I do declare,
And Lady Masefield of Grosvenor Square.
I shut the shutters and bid them goodnight
And away I went to my heart’s delight.
-Chorus
Before Judge Harlen I was took,
Before Judge Harlen I was tried.
Then Harry Jones said, “This will not do,
My iron chest you have broken through.”
-Chorus
And when I’m dead and going to me grave
No costly tombstone will I crave.
Six bonny lasses to carry my pall
Give them broadswords, gloves, and ribbons all.
-Chorus
Evening Sun
Hey hoe, down in the mine
Tug on the rope, give the bell a good chime
Supper’s on the table, day’s all done
Papa’s on the stoop with the evenin’ sun
Little boy lost, little boy blue
Pretty maid say, “How do you do?”
Black dog chewin’ on a favorite stick
Never gonna teach that dog new tricks
-Chorus
Blue bird fly to a sacred place
All God’s children fall from grace
Preacher been givin’ them a second look
Nothin’ they say gonna be in the book
-Chorus
When papa get done with Six-to-Four
Pay no mind to work no more
Rap on the front door, hang up a sign
Moma and papa hava pretty good time
-Chorus
Put on your good shoes, throw on a dress
Moma’s gonna shine in her Sunday Best
Clean up the children, day’s all done
Goin’ to a dance in the evenin’ sun
-Chorus
Peggy and the Soldier
As she arose one summer’s morn, just to watch the soldiers parading
They looked so bold and they marched so gay, their banners flying as the band did play
It caused lovely Peggy to smile and say, I will go with my gallant soldier
She watched the soldiers to and fro as they were at their leisure
Then Peggy to herself did say, “At last I’ve found my treasure
But oh, how cruel my parents can be, to banish my darling so far from me
I will leave them all and I’ll go with thee, my brave undaunted soldier
Oh, Peggy dear, the soldier said, I pray don’t act so unruly
For when I’m in some foreign land, believe me you’ll rue it surely
What if in battle I should fall from the shot of an angry canon ball
And you so far from your Daddy’s hall, are you wise with your gallant soldier?
I have fifty guineas in safe store, likewise a heart that’s bolder
I will give it all to the lad I adore, my brave undaunted soldier
So don’t say no, but let me go, and together we’ll face the fiercest foe
And pray kind Providence should know of Peggy and her gallant soldier
And when he saw she was so true, he could not stay hardhearted
He said, My darling, I’ll marry you, and none but death shall part us
And when we’re in some foreign land, I’ll guard you, my darling, with my right hand
And pray that God a friend might stand to Peggy and her gallant soldier
Erin’ Green Shore
On the banks of some cold, purling stream
I sat down on a bed of primroses
And I gently fell into a dream
I dreamt I saw a fair female
Her equal I never saw before
And I sighed for the loss of our country
As I strayed there on Ireland’s green shore
Her cheeks were like two blooming roses
Her teeth were like ivory, so white
Her eyes shown like two sparkling diamonds
Or the stars on some cold, frosty night
She was dressed in the richest attire
And green was the mantle that she wore
All bound ‘round with the hemlock and roses
As I strayed there on Ireland’s green shore
I quickly addressed this fair female
“My jewel come and tell me your name.
For in this country I know your a stranger
Or I would not have asked you the same.”
“I’m a daughter of Daniel O’Connell
And from England I lately came o’er
I’ve come to awaken my brethren
That slumber on Ireland’s green shore.
The Grey Funnel Line
The weary night never worries me
But the hardest time in a sailor’s day
Is to watch the sun as it dies away
It’s one more day on the grey funnel line
The finest ship that sails the sea
Is still a prison for the likes of me
But give me wings like Noah’s dove
I’ll fly up harbor to the one I love
It’s one more day on the grey funnel line
Oh Lord, if dreams were only real
I’d have my hands on that wooden wheel
And with all my heart I would turn her ’round
And tell the boys that we’re homeward bound
I’ll pass the time like some machine
Until blue water turns to green
Then I’ll dance down and I’ll run ashore
And I’ll sail the Grey Funnel Line no more.
It’s one more day on the grey funnel line
Sliabh Gallion Braes
One mornin’ in May
To view yon fair valleys
And mountains so gay
I was thinkin’ on those flowers
All doomed to decay
As they bloom around
Ye bonnie, bonnie
Sliabh Gallon Braes
I walked in the mornin’
With my dog and my gun
I like to go roaming
For joy and for fun
But those days are all over
And I must go away
So fairwell unto
Ye bonnie, bonnie
Sliabh Gallon Braes
How oft of an evening
And the sun in the west
I like to go roaming
With the one I love best
But those dreams of youth
Are vanished
And now I’m far away
So fairwell unto
Ye bonnie, bonnie
Sliabh Gallon Braes
Thousands Are Sailing
Good luck to those people
And safe may they land.
They’re leaving their country
For a far distant strand.
They’re leaving old Ireland,
No longer can stay,
And thousands are sailing to Amerikay.
You brave Irish heroes wherever you be,
I pray stand a moment and listen to me;
Your sons and fair daughters,
They are going away,
And thousands are sailing to Amerikay.
-Chorus:
The night before leaving
They are bidding goodbye,
And it’s early next morning
Their hearts give a sigh.
They do kiss their mothers,
And then they will say,
“Farewell, dear old father,
We must now go away.”
Pity the mother
Who rears up the child
And likewise the father
Who labours and toils.
To try to protect them
He will work night and day,
And when they are reared up
They will go away
-Chorus
Jigsaw
Star of the County Down
One morning last July,
Down a boreen green came a sweet colleen,
And she smiled as she passed me by;
She looked so sweet from her two bare feet
To the crown of her nut-brown hair,
Such a winsome elf, sure I pinched myself
For to see she was really there.
As she onward sped, sure I scratched my head
And I looked with a feeling rare,
And I said, says I, to a passer-by,
“Who’s that maid with the nut-brown hair?”
He smiled at me, and he said, says he,
“She’s the star on Ireland’s crown,
Young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann,
She’s the Star of the County Down.”
From Bantry Bay on to Derry Quay,
And from Galway to Dublin town,
No maid I’ve seen like the sweet colleen
I met at the County Down.
At the harvest fair surely she will be surely there
And I’ll dress in my Sunday clothes
with my hat cocked right, and my shoes shine bright
For a smilr from my nut-brown Rose.
No pipe I’ll smoke, no horse I’ll yoke
Though my plow with rust-colored brown,
Till shinin’bright by my own firelight
Is the Star of the County Down.
No pipe I’ll smoke, no horse I’ll yoke
Though my plow with rust-colored brown,
Till shinin’bright by my own firelight
Is the Star of the County Down.
The Blacksmith
For nine months or better
And when he’d won my heart
He wrote me a letter
With his hammer in his hand
He looked so clever
Were I with my love
I would live forever
That’s not what you promised me
When you did lie by me
You said you’d marry me
Never deny me
If I said I’d marry you
T’was only to try you
So bring your witness in
And I’ll not deny you
Witnesses have I none
But God Almighty
And He’ll surely punish you
For the slighting of me
Looking in the glass
Makes my poor heart tremble
To think I loved a man
Who proved deceitful
My love’s across the fields
With cheeks like roses
My love’s across the fields
Seeking primroses
I fear the scorching sun
Will spoil his beauty
Were I with my love
He would do his duty
Strange news has come to me
Strange news is carried
And now it’s all the talk
My love has married
I wish them bothe much joy
Though they can’t hear me
But I never shall die for love
Young men believe me
The Wind that Shakes the Barley
I sat me with my true love.
My sad heart had to choose between
The old love and the new love.
The old for her
The new that made me think on Ireland dearly.
While the soft wind blew down the glen
And shook the golden barley
T’was hard the woeful words to frame
To break the ties that bound us.
But harder still to bear the shame
Of foreign chains around us.
And so I said the mountain glen
I’ll seek at morning early.
And I’ll join the bold united men
While soft wind shakes the barley.
As sad I kissed away her tears
My fond arms ’round her flinging.
A foe-man’s shot burst on our ears
From out the wild wood ringing.
A bullet pierced my true love’s side
In life’s young spring so early.
And on my breast in blood she died
While soft wind shook the barley.
But blood for blood without remorse
I’ve taken at oulart hollow.
And laid my true love’s clay like corpse
Where I full soon must follow.
Around her grave I’ve wandered drear
Noon, night, and morning early.
With breaking heart when e’er I hear
The wind that shakes the barley.
Grey Funnel Line
The weary night never worries me
But the hardest time in a sailor’s day
Is to watch the sun as it dies away< The finest ship that sails the sea Is still a prison for the likes of me But give me wings like Noah's dove I'll fly up harbor to the one I love It's one more day on the grey funnel line Every time I gaze behind the screws Makes me long for St Peter's shoes I'd walk on down that silver lane And take my girl in my arms again It's one more day on the grey funnel line Oh Lord, if dreams were only real I'd have my hands on that wooden wheel And with all my heart I would turn her 'round And tell the boys that we're homeward bound I'll pass the time like some machine Until blue water turns to green Then I'll dance down and I'll run ashore And sail the Grey Funnel Line no more. It's one more day on the grey funnel line
Bonnie Jean Cameron
How she was sick, and was likey to die
But the only thing that they could recommend her
Was aye blythe blink o’ the Young Pretender
Chorus:
Rare, O rare, bonnie Jean Cameron
Rare, O rare, bonnie Jean-O
The doctor was sent for to see if he could cure her
Quickly he came, he made no delay
But the only thing that he could recommend her
Was aye blythe blink o’ the Young Pretender
Chorus
Tae Charlie she wrote a very long letter
Who were his friends, and who were his foes
And all her words were sweet and tender
Tae win the heart of the Young Pretender
Scarcely had she sealed the letter
When up flew the door, and in came her King
She prayed to the saints, bade angels defend her
Then she fell in the arms o’ the Young Pretender
Chorus
Ye all have heard of bonnie Jean Cameron
How she was sick, and was likey to die
But the only thing that they could recommend her
Was aye blythe blink o’ the Young Pretender
Foggy, Foggy Dew
To a city fair rode I.
There armed line of marching men
In squadrons passed me by.
No pipes did hum, no battle drum
Did sound its loud tattoo
But the Angelus bell o’er the Liffey’s swell
And rang out in the foggy, foggy dew.
Right proudly high in Dublin town
They hung out the flag of war.
For ’twas better to die ‘neath an Irish sky
Than at Suvla or Sud el Bar.
And from the plains of Royal Meath
Strong men came hurrying through;
While Brittania’s huns with their long range guns
Sailed in through the foggy, foggy dew.
There The bravest fell, and the requiem bell
Rang mournfully and clear
For those who died on that Easter tide
In the springtime of the year.
While the world did gaze with deep amaze
At those fearless men, and few
Who bore the fight that freedom’s light
Might shine in through the foggy, foggy dew.
And back through the glen I rode again
And my heart with grief was sore
For I parted then with valiant men
Whom I never shall see no more.
But to and fro in my dreams I go and
And I kneel and pray for you,
For slavery fled, from our valiant dead
When the fell in the foggy, foggy dew.
Pretty Polly
Polly, pretty Polly, won’t you come and go with me
Before we get married some pleasure we’ll see
They rode along the hilltop and what did they spy
They rode along the hilltop and what did they spy
But a new dug grave with a spade lying by
“There’s no time to talk now, there’s no time to stand”
“There’s no time to talk now, there’s no time to stand”
He drew out his knife, all into his right hand
And he stabbed her in the heart and the blood, it did flow
And he stabbed her in the heart and the red blood, it did flow
And into her grave pretty Polly did go
He threw on some earth and he started out for home
He threw on some earth and he started out for home
Leaving nothing behind but the wild birds to moan
Now a debt to the devil, debt to the devil he must pay
Now a debt to the devil, debt to the devil he must pay
For killing pretty Polly and running away
Greenfields of Canada
Farewell to the girls of old Ireland all round
May their hearts be as merry as ever I would wish them
When far away across the ocean I’m bound.
Oh, my father is old and my mother quite feeble;
To leave their own country it grieves their heart sore,
Oh the tears in great drops down their cheeks they are rolling
To think they must die upon some foreign shore.
But what matter to me where my bones they be buried
If in peace and contentment I can spend my life
Oh the green fields of Canada they daily are blooming
It’s there I’ll put an end to my miseries and strife.
Then it’s pack up your seastores and tarry no longer
Ten dollars a week isn’t very bad pay
With no taxes or tithes to devour up your wages
When you’re on the green fields of Amerikay.
The sheep run unshorn and the land’s gone to rushes
The handyman’s gone and the winders of creels,
Away across the ocean, good journeyman tailors
And fiddlers that play out the old mountain reels
Ah and I mind the time when old Ireland was flourishing,
When lots of her tradesmen could work for good pay
But since our manufacturies have crossed the Atlantic
It’s now we must follow to Amerikay.
And it’s now to conclude and to finish my ditty
If ever friendless Irishman chances my way
With the best in the house I will treat him, and welcome,
At home on the green fields of Amerikay.
Here Be Dragons
Madam I’m a Darlin’
In the dark hour late at night
Who should I see but a fair young maiden
Washing her clothes in the clear moonlight.
Madam, I’m a darlin’, a die-ro-dither-o
Madam, I’m a darlin’, a die-ro-day.
First she washed them, then she squeezed them
Then she hung them out to dry
Then she folded up her arms saying
“Oh, what a fair young girl am I”
Madam, I’m a darlin’, a die-ro-dither-o
Madam, I’m a darlin’, a die-ro-day.
Going to the well for a pail of water
Fetching it home for to make some tea
She fell under and I fell over
And all the game was above her knee.
Madam, I’m a darlin’, a die-ro-dither-o
Madam, I’m a darlin’, a die-ro-day.
Madam I will tie your garter,
I will tie it above your knee
If you like I’ll tie it up further
‘Cause madam I’m a die-row-day.
Madam, I’m a darlin’, a die-ro-dither-o
Madam, I’m a darlin’, a die-ro-day.
Have you ever heard of cups and saucers
Rattling in an old tin can
Have you ever heard of a fair young maiden
Married to an ugly grey old man.
Madam, I’m a darlin’, a die-ro-dither-o
Madam, I’m a darlin’, a die-ro-day.
Blue, it is a lovely color
Until it gets the second dip
That’s the way with an old man courtin’
You’ll never know if you get the fit
Madam, I’m a darlin’, a die-ro-dither-o
Madam, I’m a darlin’, a die-ro-day.
Madam you have the gold and silver
Madam you have the tracts of land
Madam you have ships on the ocean
All you need is a fine young man.
Madam, I’m a darlin’, a die-ro-dither-o
Madam, I’m a darlin’, a die-ro-day.
Twa Recruitin’ Sargents
Through markets and fairs, some recruits for to catch.
But all they enlisted was forty and twa
Sae, list my bonnie laddie and come awa with me
Chorus:
And it’s over the mountain and over the Main,
Through Gibralter, to France and Spain.
Pit a feather tae your bonnet, and a kilt aboon your knee,
Enlist my bonnie laddie and come awa with me.
Oh laddie ye dinna ken the danger that yer in.
If yer horses was to gleg, or yer owsen was to rin,
That greedy ole farmer, he wouldna pay yer fee.
Sae list my bonnie laddie and come awa with me
-Chorus
And its into the barn and out o’ the byre,
That greedy ole farmer thinks ye never will tire.
It’s a slavery job of low degree.
Sae list my bonnie laddie and come awa with me
-Chorus
Yeah well laddie, do you have a sweetheart at home
Ye’ll easily get rid of that ill-spun yarn
Twa rattles on the drum, and that’ll set ye’free
Sae list my bonnie laddie and come awa
-Chorus
Paddy’s Song
I write these words to you, to tell you of my plight.
And At the time of writin’, I am not a prety sight.
For my body is all black and bruised, and my face a deadly grey.
So I hope you’ll understand why Paddy’s not at word today…
Well, I was workin’ on the castle tower and some brick I had to clear.
But throwin’ ’em down from such a height was not a good idea.
And my forman bein’ unpleasant (he bein’ an awful sod!), he said
I’d have to take ’em down the ladder in me hod.
Now carrying down these bricks by hand it was so awfully slow. So
I hoisted up a barrel and secured the rope below. But in my haste
to do the job I was to blind to see that a barrel full of building
bricks is heavier than me.
So, as I went down to cut the rope, well the barrel fell like lead.
And clingin’ tightly to the rope I started up instead. I shot up
like a comet and to my suprise I found that halfway up I met the
bloody barrel comin’ down.
Well, the barrel struck me across the shoulders as to the ground
it sped. And When I reached the top I hit the pulley with my head.
I spun around all shock and dazed from the almighty blow, while
the barrel spilled out half it’s bricks… forteen floors below.
Now when these bricks had spilled out from the barrel onto the floor,
I then out weighed the barrel, so I started down once more. Still
clingin’ tightly so the rope, I headed for the ground and I fell
upon the building brick that were all scattered ’round. (And they
were pointy side up too!)
Now when I reached the bottom there I thought I’d pasted the worst.
But the barrel hit the pulley and it’s bloody bottom burst! A shower
of bricks fell down on me, I hadn’t got hope. And as I was loosing
consciousness, I let go of the blood rope!
So, the barrel now being heavier it started down once more and it
struck across me smartly as I lay there on the floor. It broke three
ribs and my left arm, so I can plainly say “I hope you’ll understand
why paddys not at work today.”
Sincerly,
Patrick Murphy
Wild Mountain Thyme
And the trees are sweetly bloomin’
And the wild moubtain thyme
Grows around the bloomin’ heather
Chorus:
Will you go lassie, go?
And We’ll all go together
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the bloomin’ heather
Will you go lassie, go?
I will build my love a bower
By yon cool and crystal fountain
And on it I will pile
All the flowers of the mountain
-Chorus
I will build my love a shelter
By yon high mountain green
And My love shall be the fairest
That the summer sun has seen
-Chorus
If my true love will not go
Then I’ll surely find another
Where the wild mountain time
Grows around the bloomin’ heather
-Chorus
Mrs. McGrath
“Would you like to make a soldier
Out of your son, Ted?
With a scarlet cloak and a fine cocked hat,
Mrs. McGraw wouldn’t you like that?”
Mrs. McGraw lived on the seashore
For the space of seven long years or more
‘Till she saw big ship sailing in the bay
“Hallelu, babbelu, I think it’s he!”
“Oh, Captain dear, where have you been.
Have you been out sailin’ on the Mediteren’.
Have you any tidings of my son Ted.
Is the poor boy livin’ or is he dead?”
Now up comes Ted without any legs
And in their place there were two wooden pegs
She kissed him a dozen times or two
Saying “Holly molly could it be you?”
“Now was you drunk or was you blind
When you left your two fine legs behind?
Or was it out walking upon the sea
That tore your legs from the knees away?”
“No I wasn’t drunk and I wasn’t blind
When I left my two fine legs behind.
For a cannon ball on the fifth of May
Took my two fine legs from the knees away.”
“Now Teddy me boy,” the old widow cried
“Your two fine legs was your mama’s pride
Them stumps of a tree won’t do at all
Why didn’t you run from the big cannon ball?”
“Now against all war, I do profrain
Between Don Juan and the King of Spain
And, by herrons, I’ll make ’em rue the time
When they swept the legs from a child of mine.”
Veteran’s Lament
Make light of our lives
Only they themselves are unscathed
Not even can justice survive
Survive…
These are the damn rotten sons
Of a damn rotten time
These are the ill gotten gains
Of an ill begot war
No pistols at dawn
No battle songs
Just dead and wounded and maimed
And men on bothe sides
who’ve done wrong
Done wrong…
These are the forgotten sons
Of are forgotten time
These are the ill gotten gains
Of an ill begot war
As useful as pawns
As faithful as dogs
So fierce and unyielding in vain
But cut down as easy as logs
As logs…
These are the forsaken sons
Of a forsaken time
These are the ill gotten gains
Of an ill begot war
Too Much of a Good Thing
And he made such a din.
“Get up, get up you darling girl,
And let your lover come in.”
Well I got up and I let him in,
And on me he did fall.
It was 5 o’clock in the morning
Before I got any sleep at all.
On Tuesday night he came to my door,
The joys of love to tend.
“Get up, get up you darling girl,
Before I go round the bend.”
Well, I got up and I let him in,
And in my arms he lay.
I had to hear the stroke of four
Before he’d go away.
On Wednesday night he came to my door,
A little late in time.
“I’d have been here sooner you darling girl,
But the hill’s so hard to climb.”
He hadn’t been long all in my arms
Before he let me be.
Then out of the house and down the road
Just after the stroke of three.
On Thursday night he came to my door
So weary and so slow.
“Oh, give us a drink you darling girl
And then to work we’ll go.
Well, all night long he fought with it,
But I had to help him through.
And I heard him sigh as he rose to go,
“It’s only after two.”
On Friday night he came to my door,
Shaking in every limb.
“Get up, get up you darling girl,
And carry your lover in.”
Well, I got up and I carried him in,
And gently laid him down.
But hardly could his spirits rise
To reach the stroke of one.
On Saturday night he came to my door,
He came on his hands and knees.
“Oh, don’t come down you darling girl,
Stay home and let me be.”
Well, I got up and I let him in,
But he fell down in a swoon.
And though often I tried to raise him up,
He slept till Sunday noon.
The Black Fox
One morning in the spring
Bothe hounds and horses running well
Made the hills and the valleys ring
But to out great misfortune
No fox there could be found
Our huntsmen cursed and swore but still
No fox moved over the ground
And upspoke our master huntsman
The master of the chase
If only the Devil himself’d come by
We’d run him such a race”
And up there sprung like lightening
A fox from out of his hole
His fur was the color of a starless night
And his eyes like burning coals
And they chased him over the valley
And they chased him over the fields
They chased him down to the riverbank
But never would he yield
And he’s jumped into the water
and he’s swum to the other side
And he’s laughed so hard that the greenwood shook
And then he’s turned to the huntsmen and cried:
“Ride on my gallant huntsmen when must I come again?
For never shall you want for a fox to chase all over the glen
And when your need is greatest, just call upon My Name
And I will come and you shall have the best of sportin’ again”
And the men looked up in wonder
And the hounds run back to hide
For the fox had changed to the Devil himself
Where he stood on the other side
And the men, the hounds and horses
Went flying back to town
And hard on their heels come a little black fox
Laughing as he ran
“Ride on my gallant huntsmen when must I come again?
For never shall you want for a fox to chase all over the glen
And when your need is greatest, just call upon My Name
And I will come and you shall have the best of sportin’ again”
The Royal Oak
We hadn’t been gone months but two or three,
When we saw ten sail, ten sail of Turks,
All men-of-war as big as full as we.
“Haul down your colors, you English dogs!
Haul down your colors and do not refuse.
Haul down your colors, you English dogs
Or your precious lives you will lose!”
Now our captain being a valiant man,
And a well-bespoken man was he:
“Never let it be said that we died like dogs,
For we shall fight most manfully!”
“Go up aloft young cabin boy,
And mount the mainmast atop so high,
For to spread the news to King George’s fleet
That we’ll run the risk or else we will die!”
Now The fight began about six in the morning,
And on to the setting of the sun.
And at the rising of the next day,
Where we saw ten ships we couldn’t see but one.
‘Cause it’s three we sank and three we burned,
And three we caused for to run away,
And one we towed to Portsmouth harbour,
For to let it be known that we won the day.
If anyone then should enquire
As to know our gallant captain’s name,
Well Captain Will Bounder was our commander
And the Royal Oak is our ship by name.
“Haul down your colors, you English dogs!
Haul down your colors and do not refuse.
Haul down your colors, you English dogs
Or your precious lives you will lose!
We Are Everywhere
Next Market Day
To win for her mommy three skeins of fine yarn.
She met with a young man upon the highway
Which caused this young damsel to dally and stray.
“Sit ye beside me, I mean ye no harm.
Sit ye beside me this new tune to learn.
Here is three guineas allow me to pay,
So lay by your yarn till the next market day.”
They sat down together, the grass it was green.
The day was the fairest that ever was seen.
“The look in your eye beats a morning in May,
I would sit by your side till the next market day.”
The maid went home and the words that he said,
And the air that he played her still rang in her head.
She says, “I’ll go find him by land or by sea
‘Till he learns me that tune called The Next Market Day
Patrick’s Arrival
Who never was much for to brag on
You’ve heard of St. George and his lance
Who killed the old heathenish dragon
The Saints of the Welshmen and Scots
Are a couple of pitiful pipers
And might just as well go to pot
When compared to the patron of vipers
St. Patrick of Ireland my dear.
He sailed to the Emerald Isle
On a lump of a pavin stone mounted
He beat the steamboat by a mile
Which mighty good sailing was counted
Says he “The salt water I think
Has made me unmerciful thirsty
Fetch me a flagon to drink
To wash down the mullygrups burst ye
Of drink that is fit for a Saint.”
He preached then with wonderful force
The ignorant natives a teaching
With pints he’d washed down each discourse
For says he I detest your dry preaching.”
The people in wonderment struck
At a pastor so pious and civil
Exclaimed “Why for you my old buck
And we’ll heave our blind Gods to the divil
Who dwells in hot water below.”
Thus finished, our worshipful man
Went to visit an elegant fellow
Who’s practise each cool afternoon
Was to get most delightful mellow
That day with a barrel of beer
He was drinking away with abandon
Said Patrick “It’s grand to be here
I’ve had nothing to speak of since landing
Give me a pull from your pot.”
He lifted the pewter in sport
Believe me I tell you its no fable
A gallon he drank from the quart
And left it back full on the table
“A miracle!” Everyone cried
All took a pull on the Stingo
They were mighty good hands at that trade
And they drank ’til they fell yet, by Jingo
The pot still flowed o’er the brim.
Next day said the host “its a fast
And I’ve nothing to eat but cold mutton
On Fridays who’d make such repast
Except an unchristian-like glutton”
Said Pat “Stop this nonsense I beg
What you tell me is nothing but gammon.”
When the host brought down the lamb’s leg
Pat ordered to turn it to salmon
And the leg most politely complied.
You’ve heard I suppose long ago,
How the snakes, in a manner most antic
He marched to the county Mayo
Ordered them all into the Atlantic
And never use water to drink
The people of Ireland determined
With mighty good reason I think
For Patrick has filled it with vermin
And snakes and such other things.
He was as fine a man
As you’d meet from Fairhead to Kilcrumper
Though under the sod he is laid
Let’s all drink his health in a bumper
I wish he was here that my glass
He might by art magic replenish
But since he is not why alas
My old song it must come to a finish
Because all the liquor is gone.
Dicey Riley
And poor old Dicey Riley she will never give it up.
It’s off each morning to the pub
Where she goes in for another little drop
Ah, the heart of the rowl is Dicey Riley
She walks along Fitzgibbon Street with an independent air
And then it’s down by Summerhill, and as the people stare
She says “It’s nearly half past one
It’s time I went for another little one.’
Ah, the heart of the rowl is Dicey Riley.
At two, pubs close and out she goes as happy as a lark
She’ll find a bench to sleep it off down in St. Patrick’s Park
She’ll wake at five feeling in the pink
And say, “Tis time for another little drink
Ah, the heart of the rowl is Dicey Reilly
Jute Mill
The poor wee shifters canna get no rest
Shifting bobbins coarse and fine
They fairly make you work for your ten and nine
O, dear me, I wish the day were done
Running up and down the Pass is no fun
Shiftin’, piecin’, spinning warp, weft and twine
To feed and cloth ma babies off of ten and nine
O, dear me, the world is ill-divided
Those that work the hardest are the least provided
But I must bide contented, dark days or fine
There’s no much pleasure living off of ten and nine
O, dear me, the mill is running fast
The poor wee shifters canna get no rest
Shifting bobbins coarse and fine
They fairly make you work for your ten and nine