Traditional Irish rebel and folk songs (lyrics)!

[Murphy]

The Maggie Thatcher Song

Maggie Thatcher you can't match her she's the darling of us all
She's the curse of the Irish Nation Fine Gael and Fianna Fail
She's destroyed me hire purchase and she's put me on the dole
If I could only get my hands on her I'd kick her up the-----

Good onya Mrs Thatcher you're the cutest girl of all
such a biddy fine and buxom sure the likes you'll not recall
when she holds negotiations things they always reach a hitch
she's the world in ruination such a schemer the old--------

Good onya Mrs Thatcher no one in this world can match her
but she's trying to take the vote away from the paddies once again
we're not worried 'bout your English vote nor your politicians gas
you can keep them Mrs Thatcher you can shove them up your----

Help us Mrs Thatcher with the prices rising high
and the work is getting awful scarce paddy's losing that's no lie
now you say that you don't want us that we've stayed here long enough
(now you say that you don't want us that we're really out of luck
but if I were a taxidermist I would tell you to get -------

Fair play Mrs Thatcher sure you know a trick or two
and each time you come to Dublin well we know just what you'll do
you'll dress up in your finery and preach with all your might
but all of your fancy promise's are just a load of-----

We love you Mrs Thatcher like your old man loves his brew
such a lad your husband Denis when he's had a sup or two
sure he'll take a pint of porter and a glass of Irish mist
and because he faces you each night no wonder he gets------

Thatcher you can't match her she's the darling of us all
She's the curse of the Irish Nation Fine Gael and Fianna Fail

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

The Reverend Ian

There's a man up in Ulster you all know him well,
For Catholics and Republicans he'd chase in hell,
His name's Ian Paisley and that is the man,
That the Catholics and Republicans just couldn't give a damn.

Tooraloo Tooralay
You're the best friend we've had since the old IRA.

Well now Ian went home and at his wife he did stare,
For to see Austin Curry and Gerry Fitt there,
Sure Ian the critter his head went astray,
When his wife said I've had curry, I could feel fit all day.

Tooraloo Tooralay
You're the best friend we've had since the old IRA.

Well now Ian went home very late one night,
And the sight he saw there it gave him a fright,
He looked under his wife's bedclothes for he was so bold,
And the knickers she wore they were green, white and gold.

Tooraloo Tooralay
You're the best friend we've had since the old IRA.

"Ach now Ian, now Ian, now don't be alarmed,"
"For it's only a tricolour it'll do thee no harm,"
"I only wanted a wee bit with you,"
"Sure you wouldn't take them down if they were red, white and blue!"

Tooraloo Tooralay
You're the best friend we've had since the old IRA.

Well Ian he died and to Heaven did go,
"Ah, where did you come from?" Saint Peter wanted to know,
"Sure I'm from loyal Ulster!", he said with a sneer,
Said Peter, "I'm from the Bogside, you won't get in here!"

Tooraloo Tooralay
You're the best friend we've had since the old IRA

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

The Croppy Boy

"Good men and true, in this house do dwell,
to a stranger bouchal(boy) I pray you tell,
Is the priest at home? Or may he be seen?
I would speak a word with Father Green."

"The Priests at home, boy, and may be seen;
`Tis easy speaking with Father Green;
But you must wait `till I go and see
If the Holy Father alone may be."

The youth has entered an empty hall-
What a lonely sound has his light foot-fall!
And the gloomy chamber`s chill and bare,
With a vested priest in a lonely chair.
The youth has knelt to tell his sins,

"Nomine Dei", the youth begins
At "Mea Culpa" he beats his breast,
and in broken murmers he speaks the rest.

"At the siege of Ross did my father fall,
And at Gorey my loving brothers all;
I alone am left of my name and race,
I will go to wexford and take my place.
I cursed three times since last Easter day-
At Mass time once I went to play;
I passed the churchyard one day in haste
And forgot to pray for my mother`s rest."

"I bear no hate against living things
But I love my country above my king,
Now, Father! bless me and let me go
To die for God ordained it so."

The priest said naught, but a rustling noise,
Made the youth look up in wild surprise:
The robes were off, and in scarlet there
Sat a Yeoman captain with firey glare.

With firey glary and fury hoarse,
Instead of a blessing he breathed a curse-
"`Twas a good thought, boy, to come here and shrive,
For one short hour is your time to live"

"Upon yon river, three tenders float,
The priest`s in one - if he isn`t shot-
We hold this house for our Lord and King
And, Amen, say I may all traitors swing!"

At Geneva Barracks that young man died,
and at Passage there have his body laid.
Good people who live in peace and joy,
Breathe a prayer, shed a tear, for the Croppy Boy.

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

FATHER MURPHY

Come all you warriors and renowned nobles
Give ear unto my warlike theme
While I relate how brave Father Murphy
He lately roused from his sleepy dream
Sure Julius Caesar nor Alexander
Nor brave King Arthur ever equalled him
For armies formidable he did conquer
Though with two pikemen he did begin

Camolin cavalry he did unhorse them
Their first lieutenant he cut him down
With shattered ranks and with broken columns
They soon returned to Camolin town
At the hill of Oulart he displayed his valour
Where a hundred Corkmen lay on the plain
At Enniscorthy his sword he wielded
And I hope to see him once more again

When Enniscorthy became subject unto him
Twas then to Wexford we marched our men
And on the Three Rock took up our quarters
Waiting for daylight the town to win
The loyal townsmen gave their assistance
We will die or conquer they all did say
The yeomen cavalry made no resistance,
For on the pavement their corpses lay

With drums a-beating the town did echo
And acclamations came from door to door
On the Windmill Hill we pitched our tents then
We drank like heroes but paid no score
On Carraig Rua for some time we waited
And next to Gorey we did repair
At Tubberneering we thought no harm
The bloody army was waiting there

The issue of it was a close engagement
While on the soldiers we played warlike pranks
Through the sheepwalks, hedgerows and shady thickets
There were mangled bodies and broken ranks
The shuddering cavalry, I can't forget them
We raised the brushes on their helmets straight
They turned about and made straight for Dublin
As though they ran for a ten pound plate

Now, some crossed Donnybrook and more through Blackrock
And some up Shankhill without wound or flaw
And if Barry Lawless be not a liar
There was more went groaning up Luggela
To the Windmill Hill of Enniscorthy,
The British Fencibles they fled like deers
But our ranks were tattered and sorely scattered
By the loss o Kyan and his Shelamaliers

The streets of England were left quite naked
Of all their army both foot and horse
The Highlands Scotland were left unguarded
Likewise the Hessians the seas did cross
But if the Frenchmen had reinforced us
And landed transports at Baginbun
Father John Murphy, he would be their seconder
And sixteen thousand with him would come

Success attend you sweet County Wexford
Threw off the yoke and to battle run
Let them not think we gave up our arms
For every man still has a pike and gun

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

The Boys Of Kilmichael

Chorus:
Oh forget not the boys of Kilmichael
Those brave boys both gallant and true
They fought with Tom Barry's bold column
And conquered the red, white and blue

Whilst we honour in song and in story
The memory of Pearse and McBride
Whose names are illumined in glory
With martyrs that long since have died
Oh forget not the boys of Kilmichael
Who feared not the ice and the foe
Oh the day that they marched into battle
They laid all the Black and Tans low

On the twenty eighth day of November
The Tans left the town of Macroom
They were seated in Crossley tenders
Which brought them right into their doom
They were on the high road to Kilmichael
And never expecting to stall
'Twas there that the boys of the column
They made a clear sweep of them all

The sun in the west it was sinking
'Twas the eve of a cold winter's day
When the Tans we were eagerly waiting
Sailed into the spot where we lay
And over the hill went the echo
The peal of the rifles and guns
And the smoke from their lorries bore tidings
That the boys of Kilmichael had won

The battle being over at twilight
And there in that glen so obscure
We threw down our rifles and bayonets
And made our way back to Granure
And high over Dunmanway town, my boys
They sang of the brave and the true
Of the men from Tom Barry's bold column
Who conquered the red, white and blue

There are some who will blush at the mention
Of Connolly, Pearse and McBride
And history's new scribes in derision
The pages of valour deny
But sure here's to the boys who cried, Freedom!
When Ireland was nailed to the mast
And they fought with Tom Barry's bold column
To give us our freedom at last

Final chorus:
So forget not the boys of Kilmichael
Those brave boys both gallant and true
They fought 'neath the green flag of Erin
And conquered the red, white and blue

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

THE FOGGY DEW

As down the glen one Easter morn
to a city fair rode I
There armed lines 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 swell
rang out in the Foggy Dew.

Right proudly high over Dublin town
We hung out the flag of war
'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky
than at Suvla or Sud El Bar
And from the plains of Royal Meath
brave men came hurrying through
While Britannia's sons with their long range guns
sailed in through the Foggy Dew.

Oh, the night fell black and the rifles crack
made "Perfidious Albion" reel
'Mid the leaden rail, seven tongues of flame
did shine o'er our ring of steel
By each shining blade, a prayer was said
that to Ireland her sons be true
And when morning broke still the war flag shook
out its folds in the Foggy Dew.

'Twas England bade our Wild Geese go
that small nations might be free
But their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves
or the fringe of the Great North Sea
Oh had they died by Pearse's side,
or had fought with Cathal Brugha
Their names we'd keep where the Fenians sleep,
'neath the shroud of the Foggy Dew.

But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell
rang mournfully and clear
For those who died on that Eastertide
in the springtime of the year
While the world did gaze, with deep amaze,
at those fearless men, but few
Who bore the fight that Freedom's light
might shine through the Foggy Dew.

Ah, 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 more
But to and fro in my dreams I go
and I'd kneel and pray for you
For slavery fled, O glorious dead,
when you fell in the Foggy Dew.

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

My Old Man's a Provo!

My old mans a provo with a beret and a gun
I havent seen him lately hes always on the run
He looks so really trendy in his shades and DM boots
Far cooler than those other dads in ties and shirts and suits

The Brits and police harass me, each time that I go out
They ask me if I seen me da' or if he's been about
I say 'mind your own business, just leave me alone
You shower are only jealous, you've no fathers of your own!''

On TV the other night, a cop came on to say,
"Please give us information, about the IRA"
They showed a provo unit on security tv
I know that was me da', for he stopped and waved at me

At Christmas time its lonely when daddys not at home
The Brits are watching everywhere they've even tapped our phone
Last Christmas Eve they staked out our windows and our doors
When climbing down the chimney came a provo Santa Claus

My dad has got me worried, I think he's going soft
There's half a tonne of fertiliser stored up in our loft!
"Are you going to be a farmer,dad?", I asked him just for fun
He said, "Don't be an eejit and pass the coffee grinder, son!"

My daddys up in Long Kesh now to me its just not right
I say a special prayer for him when I got to bed at night
Today it was his birthday I sent him in a cake
There was semtex in the candles, he'll be out before I wake!!!

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

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

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Freedoms Sons

Chorus:
They were the men with the vision the men with the cause
The men who defied their oppressors laws
The men who traded their chains for guns
Born into slavery they were freedoms sons

At Easter time 1916
When flowers bloomed and leaves were green
There dawned a day when freedoms cry
Called on brave men come fight or die

In Dublin town they fought and died
With Pearse McDermott and McBride
Ourselves alone their battle cry
And freedom rang through that Easter sky

A poets dream had sparked that flame
A raging fire it soon became
And from that fire of destiny
Arose a nation proud and free

Six counties are in bondage still
They died brave men was this their will
Until we're free and oppression ceased
Only then brave men shall sleep in peace

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Old Fenian Gun

It hung above the kitchen fire. It's barrel long and brown
And one day with a boy's desire, I climbed and took it down
My father's eyes in anger flashed. He cried "what have you done?!
I wish you'd left it where it was, That's my old Fenian gun"

I fondled it with love and pride. I looked it o'er and o'er
I placed it on my shoulder And I marched across the floor
My father's anger softened And he shared my boyish fun
"Ah, well" he said "'tis in your breed like that old Fenian gun"

I remember '67 well when lads like you and me
All thought we'd strike another blow to set old Ireland free
But broken were our golden hopes I was long months on the run
But it did good work for Ireland then that brown old Fenian gun

I was down then in Killaloe t'was the hottest fight of all
And you can see he burned his arm there's a mark still on the ball
I hope the young lads growing now will hold the ground we won
And not disgrace the cause in which I held that Fenian gun

I placed it o'er the fire once more. I heard my father sigh
I knew his thoughts were turning back on days now long gone by
And then I vowed within my heart I'll be my father's son
And if ever Ireland wants my aid I'll hold the Fenian gun

That's years ago I've grown a man and I've weathered many a gale
This last long year's been spent inside a gloomy English jail
I've done my part I'll do it still Until the fight is won
When Ireland's free she'll bless the men Who held the Fenian gun

Regards,
Eóin.