Traditional Irish rebel and folk songs (lyrics)!

[Murphy]

Every forum needs one of these :D! Post the lyrics to your favourite Irish tunes here!

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

A Nation Once Again

When boyhood's fire was in my blood
I read of ancient freemen,
For Greece and Rome who bravely stood,
Three hundred men and three men;
And then I prayed I yet might see
Our fetters rent in twain,
And Ireland, long a province, be.
A Nation once again!

A Nation once again,
A Nation once again,
And lreland, long a province, be
A Nation once again!

And from that time, through wildest woe,
That hope has shone a far light,
Nor could love's brightest summer glow
Outshine that solemn starlight;
It seemed to watch above my head
In forum, field and fane,
Its angel voice sang round my bed,
A Nation once again!

It whisper'd too, that freedom's ark
And service high and holy,
Would be profaned by feelings dark
And passions vain or lowly;
For, Freedom comes from God's right hand,
And needs a Godly train;
And righteous men must make our land
A Nation once again!

So, as I grew from boy to man,
I bent me to that bidding
My spirit of each selfish plan
And cruel passion ridding;
For, thus I hoped some day to aid,
Oh, can such hope be vain ?
When my dear country shall be made
A Nation once again!

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

The Sash

Sure l'm an Ulster Orangeman, from Erin's isle I came,
To see my British brethren all of honour and of fame,
And to tell them of my forefathers who fought in days of yore,
That I might have the right to wear, the sash my father wore!

It is old but it is beautiful, and its colours they are fine
It was worn at Derry, Aughrim, Enniskillen and the Boyne.
My father wore it as a youth in bygone days of yore
And on the Twelfth I love to wear the sash my father wore

For those brave men who crossed the Boyne have not fought or died in vain
Our Unity, Religion, Laws, and Freedom to maintain,
If the call should come we'll follow the drum, and cross that river once more
That tomorrow's Ulsterman may wear the sash my father wore!

It is old but it is beautiful, and its colours they are fine
It was worn at Derry, Aughrim, Enniskillen and the Boyne.
My father wore it as a youth in bygone days of yore
And on the Twelfth I love to wear the sash my father wore

And when some day, across the sea to Antrim's shore you come,
We'll welcome you in royal style, to the sound of flute and drum
And Ulster's hills shall echo still, from Rathlin to Dromore
As we sing again the loyal strain of the sash my father wore!

It is old but it is beautiful, and its colours they are fine
It was worn at Derry, Aughrim, Enniskillen and the Boyne.
My father wore it as a youth in bygone days of yore
And on the Twelfth I love to wear the sash my father wore

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Belfast Brigade

Craigavon sent the Specials out,
To shoot the people down,
He thought the IRA were dead,
In dear old Belfast town,
But he got a rude awakening,
With cannon and grenade,
When he met the first Batallion,
Of the Belfast Brigade.

Glory, glory to old Ireland,
Glory, glory to this island,
Glory to the memory of the men
Who fought and died,
"No surrender" is the war cry of
The Belfast Brigade.

The soldiers came from Holywood,
Equipped with English guns,
There were men by the thousand,
Ammunition by the ton,
But when they got to Belfast,
They were seriously delayed,
By the fighting First Batallion
Of the Belfast Brigade.

We have no ammunition,
Or no armoured tanks to show,
But we're ready to defend ourselves,
No matter where we go,
We're out for our Republic,
And to hell with your Free State,
"No surrender" is the War cry
Of the Belfast Brigade.

Come all you gallant Irishmen,
And join the IRA
We'll strike a blow for freedom,
When it comes a certain day,
You know your country's History,
And the sacrifice it made,
Come join the First Batallion
Of the Belfast Brigade.

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Only Our Rivers Run Free

When apples still grow in November
When Blossoms still bloom from each tree
When leaves are still green in December
It's then that our land will be free
I wander her hills and her valleys
And still through my sorrow I see
A land that has never known freedom
And only her rivers run free

I drink to the death of her manhood
Those men who'd rather have died
Than to live in the cold chains of bondage
To bring back their rights were denied
Oh where are you now when we need you
What burns where the flame used to be
Are ye gone like the snows of last winter
And will only our rivers run free?

How sweet is life but we're crying
How mellow the wine but it's dry
How fragrant the rose but it's dying
How gentle the breeze but it sighs
What good is in youth when it's aging
What joy is in eyes that can't see
When there's sorrow in sunshine and flowers
And still only our rivers run free

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Aiden McAnespie

Twas on a Sunday evening the sun was in the sky
As he walked his way to the Gaelic pitch never thinking he was going to die
But as he crossed the checkpoint the sound of gunfire came
The news spread through the border town Aiden McAnespie was slain

For years he was harassed by the forces of the crown
As he went to his work every day he left his native town
The soldiers swore they´d get him the reason no one can say
And sure enough they murdered him in cold blood that sunny day

Oh why did you do it?
Have you not the guts to say
You say it was an accident or even a ricochet
But like Loughgall and Gibraltar you´re lies are well renowned
You murdered Aiden McAnespie on his way to the Gaelic ground

The people heard the gunfire they came from miles around
They saw that you man lying there dying on the ground
His flow of life was ebbing fast and people they tried their best
That bullet wound it was far to deep it went right through his chest

Oh why did you do it?
Have you not the guts to say
You say it was an accident or even a ricochet
But like Loughgall and Gibraltar you´re lies are well renowned
You murdered Aiden McAnespie on his way to the Gaelic ground

Aidens life had ended it was time for judgement day
The soldier he jumped down from the tower and the coward he slipped away
God´s curse on you Britannia for this cruel deed you´ve done
But god will have his final say when your judgement day it comes

Oh why did you do it?
Have you not the guts to say
You say it was an accident or even a ricochet
But like Loughgall and Gibraltar you´re lies are well renowned
You murdered Aiden McAnespie on his way to the Gaelic ground

To say it was an accident is the greatest crime of all
To his heart-broken family the worst had `er befalled
A cross it marks the lonely spot where Aiden was gunned down
As he strolled on that sunny evening on his way to the Gaelic ground

Oh why did you do it?
Have you not the guts to say
You say it was an accident or even a ricochet
But like Loughgall and Gibraltar you´re lies are well renowned
You murdered Aiden McAnespie on his way to the Gaelic ground

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

The Fenian Record Player

Wee Willie John McFadden was a loyal Orange Prod
Who thought that Ian Paisley was just one step down from God
He scorned the little children, in the backstreets of Ardoyne
And he thought that history started with the Battle of the Boyne
And he thought that history started with the Battle of the Boyne

One day he took a brick in his hands and dandered up the Falls
He was mumbling "Up the Rangers" and hummin' Derry's Walls
He broke a big shop window to annoy the Pope of Rome
He took the record player and then he started home
He took the record player and then he started home

Next night they had a hooley at the local Orange Hall
Wee Willie took his player to make music for the ball
He chose a stack of records of a very loyal kind
But when the music started he nearly lost his mind
But when the music started he nearly lost his mind

This Fenian record player was a rebel to the core
It played out songs the Orange Hall had never heard before
For Dolly's Brae and Derry's Walls it didn't give a fig
It speeded up God Save the Queen till it sounded like a jig
It speeded up God Save the Queen till it sounded like a jig

Well the boys were plain demented, to the ground Wee Will was thrown
They kicked his ribs in one by one to the tune of Garryowen
They threw him out the window to a song about Sinn Fein
They kicked him all down Sandy Row to a Nation Once Again
They kicked him all down Sandy Row to a Nation Once Again

Wee willie's up in the mental home, crazy as a coot
He sits there in a padded cell and tootles on his flute
But when he tries to play The Sash, he always gets it wrong
for half-way through he always finds he's playing The Soldier's Song

There's a moral to this story, what it is I cannot say
Oh maybe its the ancient words that "crime it will never pay"
If you ask Wee Willie McFadden, he'll say "You're kind, you know"
If you want to pinch a record player, do it up the Shankill Road
If you want to pinch a record player, do it up the Shankill Road

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Flight of Earls

I can hear the bells of Dublin in this lonely waiting room
And the paperboys are singin' in the rain
Not too long before they take us to the airport and the noise
To get on board a transatlantic plane
We've got nothin' left to stay for,We had no more left to say
And there isn't any work for us to do
So farewell ye boys and girls; Another bloody Flight of Earls
Our best asset is our best export, too....

It's not murder, fear or famine that makes us leave this time
We're not going to join McAlpine's Fusileers
We've got brains, and we've got visions; we've got education, too!
But we just can't throw away these precious years
So we walk the streets of London, And the streets of Baltimore
And we meet at night in several Boston bars
We're the leaders of the future but we're far away from home
And we dream of you beneath the Irish stars

As we look on Ellis Island, and the Lady in the bay
And Manhattan turns to face another Sunday
We just wonder what you're doing to bring us all back home
As we look forward to another Monday
Because it's not the work that scares us,we don't mind an honest job,
and we know things will get better once again
So a thousand times adieu, We've got Bono and U2
All we're missin' is the Guinness, and the rain

So switch off your new computers cause the writing's on the wall
We're leaving as our fathers did before
Take a look at Dublin airport, or the boat that leaves North Wall
There'll be no Youth Unemployment any more
Because we're over here in Queensland,And in parts of New South Wales
We're on the seas and airwaysand the trains
But if we see better days,Those big airplanes go both ways
And we'll all be comin' back to you again!

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Fighting Men from Crossmaglen

Oh I'll sing a song,
Of the bravest men!
That famous fighting unit from Armagh
They are the men,
From Crossmaglen,
Amongst the bravest Irelands ever saw

In Crossmaglen,
The fire burns true.
The patriotic flame will never die.
And when you hear the battle cry
It will be the fighting men from Crossmaglen

At night you hear,
Bazookas roar,
Armalites are heard across the land.
The IRA,
Their spirits soar
They know the reckonin has come to hand

In Crossmaglen,
The fire burns true.
The patriotic flame will never die.
And when you hear the battle cry
It will be the fighting men from Crossmaglen

The British scum,
They do fear,
Never again they'll see their cursed shore.
Because they know
They'll pay dear,
And the RA will even Irelands bloody score.

In Crossmaglen,
The fire burns true.
The patriotic flame will never die.
And when you hear the battle cry
It will be the fighting men from Crossmaglen

We'll not give up!
Oh Will we fuck!
Until we're free!
Until Irelands out of British hands.
We'll never rest,
Until we see,
The tyrants rule driven from our land

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Four Green Fields

What did I have, said the fine old woman
What did I have, this proud old woman did say
I had four green fields, each one was a jewel
But strangers came and tried to take them from me
I had fine strong sons, who fought to save my jewels
They fought and they died, and that is my grief said she

Long time ago, said the fine old woman
Long time ago, this proud old woman did say
There was war and death, plundering and pillage
My people died, by mountain, valley and stream
And their wailing cries, they reached the very heavens
and my four green fields ran red with their blood, said she

What have I now, said the fine old woman
What have I now, this proud old woman did say
I have four green fields, one of them's in bondage
In stranger's hands, that tried to take it from me
But my sons they have sons, as brave as were their fathers
and my fourth green field will bloom once again said she

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

The Boys of the Old Brigade

Oh, father why are you so sad
On this bright Easter morn’
When Irish men are proud and glad
Of the land that they were born?
Oh, son, I see in mem’ries few
Of far off distant days
When being just a lad like you
I joined the IRA.

Where are the lads that stood with me
When history was made?
A Ghra Mo Chroi, I long to see
The boys of the old brigade.

From hills and farms a call to arms
Was heard by one and all.
And from the glen came brave young men
To answer Ireland’s call.
‘T wasn’t long ago we faced a foe,
The old brigade and me,
And by my side they fought and died
That Ireland might be free.

Where are the lads that stood with me
When history was made?
A Ghra Mo Chroi, I long to see
The boys of the old brigade.

And now, my boy, I’ve told you why
On Easter morn’ I sigh,
For I recall my comrades all
And dark old days gone by.
I think of men who fought in glen
With rifle and grenade.
May heaven keep the men who sleep
From the ranks of the old brigade.

Where are the lads that stood with me
When history was made?
A Ghra Mo Chroi, I long to see
The boys of the old brigade.

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Follow Me Upto Carlow

Lift MacCahir Og your face
You're brooding o'er the old disgrace
That black FitzWilliam stormed your place,
and drove you to the Fern
Grey said victory was sure
That soon the firebrand he'd secure;
Until he met at Glenmalure
With Fiach MacHugh O'Byrne.

Curse and swear Lord Kildare,
Fiach will do what Fiach will dare
Now FitzWilliam, have a care
For fallen is your star, low.
Up with halberd, out with sword
On we'll go for by the lord
Fiach MacHugh has given the word,
Follow me up to Carlow.

From Tassagart to Clonmore,
There flows a stream of Saxon gore
Oh, great is Rory Oge O'More,
At sending the loons to Hades.
White is sick and Lane has fled,
and now for black FitzWilliam's head
We'll send it over, dripping red,
To Queen Liza and her ladies.

Curse and swear Lord Kildare,
Fiach will do what Fiach will dare
Now FitzWilliam, have a care
For fallen is your star, low.
Up with halberd out with sword
On we'll go for by the lord
Fiach MacHugh has given the word,
Follow me up to Carlow.

See the swords of Glen Imayle,
Flashing o'er the English pale
See all the children of the Gael,
Beneath O'Byrne's banner,
Rooster of the fighting stock,
Would you let a Saxon cock
Crow out upon an Irish rock,
Fly up and teach him manners.

Curse and swear Lord Kildare,
Fiach will do what Feach will dare
Now FitzWilliam, have a care
For fallen is your star, low.
Up with halberd out with sword
On we'll go for by the lord
Fiach MacHugh has given the word,
Follow me up to Carlow!

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Back Home In Derry

In 1803 we sailed out to sea
Out from the sweet town of Derry
For Australia bound if we didn't all drown
And the marks of our fetters we carried.

In the rusty iron chains we sighed for our weans
A good woman we left in sorrow.
As the mainsails unfurled and curses we hurled
On the English and thoughts of tomorrow.

Oh Oh Oh Oh I wish I was back home in Derry.
Oh Oh Oh Oh I wish I was back home in Derry.

I cursed them to hell as our bow fought the swell.
Our ship danced like a moth in the firelight.
White horses rode high as the devil passed by
Taking souls to Hades by twilight.

Five weeks out to sea we were now forty-three
Our comrades we buried each morning.
In our own slime we were lost in a time.
Endless night without dawning.

Oh Oh Oh Oh I wish I was back home in Derry.
Oh Oh Oh Oh I wish I was back home in Derry.

Van Dieman's land is a hell for a man
To end out his whole life in slavery.
When the climate is raw and the gun makes the law.
Neither wind nor rain cares for bravery.

Twenty years have gone by and I've ended my bond
My comrades' ghosts walk behind me.
A rebel I came and I'll die the same.
On the cold winds of night you will find me

Oh Oh Oh Oh I wish I was back home in Derry.
Oh Oh Oh Oh I wish I was back home in Derry.

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Banna Strand

'Twas on Good Friday morning,
All in the month of May,
A German Ship was signalling,
Beyond out in the Bay,
We've twenty thousand rifles
All ready for to land,
But no answering signal did come
From the lonely Banna Strand.

"No signal answers from the shore",
Sir Roger sadly said,
"No comrades here to meet me,
Alas, they must be dead,
But I must do my duty
And at once I mean to land",
So in a small boat rowed ashore
On the lovely Banna Strand.

Now the R.I.C. were hunting
For Sir Roger high and low,
They found him at McKenna's fort;
Said they: "You are our foe",
Said he: "I'm Roger Casement,
I came to my native land,
I mean to free my countrymen
On the lonely Banna Strand.

They took Sir Roger prisoner,
And sailed for London town,
And in the Tower they laid him,
A traitor to the Crown;
Said he "I am no traitor",
But his trial he had to stand,
For bringing German rifles
To the lonely Banna Strand.

'Twas in an English prison
That they led him to his death,
"I'm dying for my country"
He said with his last breath,
They buried him in British soil
Far from his native land,
And the wild waves sing his requiem
On the lonely Banna Strand.

They took Sir Roger home again
In the year of '65,
And with his comrades of '16
In peace and tranquil lies,
His last fond wish, it is fulfilled
For to lie in his native land,
And the waves will roll in peace again
On the lonely Banna Strand.

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

The Bold Fenian Men

See who comes over the red blossomed heather
Their green banners kissing the pure mountain air
Heads erect eyes front, stepping proudly together
Freedom sits throned on each proud spirit there

Down the hill twining, their blessed steel shining
Like rivers of beauty that flow from each glen
From mountain and valley, 'tis Liberty's rally
Out and make way for the bold Fenian Men!

We've men from the Nore, from the Suir and the Shannon
Let tyrants come forth, we'll bring force against force
Our pen is the sword and our voice is the cannon
Rifle for rifle and horse against horse

We've made the false Saxon yield many a red battlefield
God on our side we will triumph again
Pay them back woe for woe, give them back blow for blow
Out and make way for the bold Fenian Men!

Side by side for the cause have our forefathers battled
Our hills never echo'd the tread of a slave
In many's a field where the leaden hail rattled
Through the red gap of glory they march'd to their grave

And those who inherit their name and their spirit
Will march 'neath the banners of Liberty then
All who love foreign law, native or Saxon
Must out and make way for the bold Fenian Men

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Bold Robert Emmet

The struggle is over, the boys are defeated,
Old Ireland's surrounded by sadness and gloom,
We were defeated and shamefully treated,
And I, Robert Emmet, awaiting my doom.

Hung, drawn and quartered, sure that was my sentence,
But soon I will show them no coward am I.
My crime is the love of the land I was born in,
A hero I lived and a hero I'll die.

Bold Robert Emmet, the darling of Ireland,
Bold Robert Emmet will die with a smile,
Farewell companions both loyal and daring,
I lay down my life for the Emerald Isle.

My barque lay at anchor awaiting to take me
Far over the billows to a land of the free;
But I must see my sweetheart for I know she will cheer me,
And with her I will sail far over the sea.

But I was arrested and cast into prison,
Tried as a traitor, a rebel, a spy;
But no man can call me a knave or a coward,
A hero I lived and a hero I'll die.

Bold Robert Emmet, the darling of Ireland,
Bold Robert Emmet will die with a smile,
Farewell companions both loyal and daring,
I lay down my life for the Emerald Isle.

Hark! I the bell's tolling, I well know its meaning,
My poor heart tells me it is my death knell;
In come the clergy, the warder is leading,
I have no friends here to bid me farewell.
Goodbye, old Ireland, my parents and sweetheart,
Companions in arms to forget you must try;
I am proud of the honour, it was only my duty-
A hero I lived and a hero I'll die.

Bold Robert Emmet, the darling of Ireland,
Bold Robert Emmet will die with a smile,
Farewell companions both loyal and daring,
I lay down my life for the Emerald Isle

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

God Save Ireland

High upon the gallows tree, swung the noble-hearted three,
By the vengeful tyrant, stricken in their bloom.
But they met him face to face with the courage of their race,
And they went with souls undaunted to their doom.

"God save Ireland," said the heroes.
"God save Ireland," said them all.
"Whether on the scaffold high, or the battlefield we die,
No matter when, for Ireland dear we fall!"

Grit around with cruel foes, sure their courage proudly rose,
For they thought of hearts that loved them far and near.
Of the millions true and brave, o'er the ocean's swelling wave,
And the friends in Holy Ireland ever dear!

"God save Ireland," said the heroes.
"God save Ireland," said them all.
"Whether on the scaffold high, or the battlefield we die,
No matter when, for Ireland dear we fall!"

Climbed they up the rugged stair, rang their voices out in prayer,
Then with England's fatal cord about them cast.
Close beside the gallows tree, kissed like brothers lovingly,
True to home and faith, and freedom to the last!

"God save Ireland," said the heroes.
"God save Ireland," said them all.
"Whether on the scaffold high, or the battlefield we die,
No matter when, for Ireland dear we fall!"

Never 'til the latest day shall the memory pass away,
Of those gallant lives thus given for our land.
And on the cause must go, amidst joy and weal and woe,
'Til me make our isle a nation, free and grand!

"God save Ireland," said the heroes.
"God save Ireland," said them all.
"Whether on the scaffold high, or the battlefield we die,
No matter when, for Ireland dear we fall!"

Regards,
Eóin.

[Beorn]

I'll post the cop out song. :D



Fields of Athenry



By a lonely prison wall
I heard a young girl calling
Michaelthey are taking you away
For you stole Trevelyn's corn
So the young might see the morn.
Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay.

Chorus

Low lie the Fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly.
Our love was on the wing
we had dreams and songs to sing
It's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry.

By a lonely prison wall
I heard a young man calling
Nothing matters Mary when you're free,
Against the Famine and the Crown
I rebelled they ran me down
Now you must raise our child with dignity.


Chorus

By a lonely harbour wall
She watched the last star falling
As that prison ship sailed out against the sky
Sure she'll wait and hope and pray
For her love in Botany Bay
It's so lonely 'round the Fields of Athenry.

Chorus



I love the song. It is the one Irish rebel song that can actually be adopted by others from outside the whole Irish identity. It strikes to all on all levels through the very simple commonality that all the people of all the nations of the UK suffered at the hands of the British relocation laws to Australia and foreign colonies.

You only have to wander around England to see tributes in town squares or little monuments dedicated in villages to those who suffered the tragedy of having to leave England through paltry jumped up criminal charges.

If I can locate the lyrics, or feel like recreating them anew, I'll post the Anglo-Saxon version: 'The fields of Athelney' ;):D

[Murphy]

The Dying Rebel

The night was dark, and the fight was over,
The moon shone down O'Connell Street,
I stood alone, where brave men perished
Those men have gone, their God to meet.

My only son was shot in Dublin,
Fighting for his country bold,
He fought for Ireland, and Ireland only,
The Harp and Shamrock, Green, White and Gold.

The first I met was a grey-haired father
Searching for his only son,
I said "Old man, there's no use searching
For up to heaven, your son has gone".

The old man cried out broken hearted
Bending o'er I heard him say:
"I knew my son was too kind hearted,
I knew my son would never yield".

The last I met was a dying rebel,
Bending low I heard him say:
"God bless my home in dear Cork City,
God bless the cause for which I die."

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Grace

As we gather in the chapel here in old Kilmainham Jail
I think about these past few weeks, oh will they say we've failed?
From our school days they have told us we must yearn for liberty
Yet all I want in this dark place is to have you here with me

Oh Grace just hold me in your arms and let this moment linger
They'll take me out at dawn and I will die
With all my love I place this wedding ring upon your finger
There won't be time to share our love for we must say goodbye

Now I know it's hard for you my love to ever understand
The love I shared for these brave men, the love for my dear land
But when glory called me to his side down in the GPO
I had to leave my own sick bed, to him I had to go

Oh, Grace just hold me in your arms and let this moment linger
They'll take me out at dawn and I will die
With all my love I'll place this wedding ring upon your finger
There won't be time to share our love for we must say goodbye

Now as the dawn is breaking, my heart is breaking too
On this May morn as I walk out, my thoughts will be of you
And I'll write some words upon the wall so everyone will know
I loved so much that I could see his blood upon the rose.

Oh, Grace just hold me in your arms and let this moment linger
They'll take me out at dawn and I will die
With all my love I'll place this wedding ring upon your finger
There won't be time to share our love for we must say goodbye
For we must say goodbye

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

The Rebel's Sermon

My brothers all, who hear me now,
Give ear to what I say;
The words are solemn that I speak
On this my dying day:
For Ireland´s love, for England´s hate,
I swore a solemn vow,
And if I swore it once before
I swear it ten times now!

For Ireland! For Ireland
Upon this drop I stand;
For Ireland, for Ireland,
My own native land!

Thrice blacker be the face of death,
Thrice brighter be the sky!
And yet for such a cause as this,
I´m well content to die!
I never knew what ´twas to fear,
And still I do not know;
And for the wrongs that tore my heart
I strove to deal a blow.

You´ll follow! You´ll follow!
The path I went before,
Like brave men, to save, men
Their old island shore!

I did the duty of a man;
I care for life no more;
If death will bring the cause some good,
Its stroke I won't deplore.
If one more throb of stern resolve
It raise in any breast,
If one more pulse of bitter hate
´Gainst England´s robber crest

´Tis welcome! ´Tis welcome!
Right merrily to me;
Victorious and glorious
The last hour I see!

And now the word I´d leave behind
Is Vengeance! Vengeance still!
O´er every plain I´d ring it out,
On every lofty hill.
Who cares a straw for life and limb
Deserves not to be free;
Who thinks of caution or of fear
Will frighten liberty.

Still daring, uncaring,
For all the might of man,
There is no other way, my boys,
To carry out your plan!

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Henry Joy

An Ulster man I an proud to say from the Antrim Glens I come
Although I labored by the sea I followed fife and drum
I have heard the martial tramp of men; I've seen men fight and die
Ah! lads I well remember when I followed Henry Joy

I pulled my boat up from the sea I hid my sail away
I hung my nets on a greenwood tree and I scanned the moonlit bay
The boys were out, and the "Redcoats" too - I kissed my wife good-bye
And in the shade of the greenwood glade, sure I followed Henry Joy

In Antrim Town the tyrant stood, he tore our ranks with ball
But with a cheer and a pike to clear we swept the o'er the wall
Our pikes and sabers flashed that day - we won, but lost, ah why
No matter lads, I fought beside, and shielded Henry Joy

Ah! boys, for Ireland's cause we fought, for her and home we bled
Though pikes were few still our hearts beat true, and five to one lay dead
But many a lassie mourned her lad and mother mourned her boy
For youth was strong in that gallant throng, who followed Henry Joy

In Belfast Town they built a tree, and the Redcoats mustered there
I watched them come at the beat of the drum, rolled out from the barrack square
He kissed his sister and went aloft, he bade a last good-bye
"My God, he died," sure I turned and cried, "They have murdered Henry Joy!"

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Ireland Unfree

n a dimly lit room by the smouldering fire
Sat an old man so lonely so sad and so tired
Once he struggled for freedom, now he struggles to live
With his few small possessions and his past to relive

And his thoughts wander back to the days of his prime
Oh it seems now there´s nothing goes faster than time
To his comrades of old he remembers the day
When he marched behind Pearse and the bold IRA

There´s a faded old picture on the wall all alone
A dusty old picture, the pride of his home
With a harp and a shamrock with these words underneath
"Ireland unfree shall never be at peace"

And it´s to Easter week and his thoughts wander back
Oh those leaders of men sure no courage did lack
But now he´s just left with his memories of old
For his name nor his story will never be told

There´s a faded old picture on the wall all alone
A dusty old picture, the pride of his home
With a harp and a shamrock with these words underneath
"Ireland unfree shall never be at peace"

He gazed at that picture and gave a sad smile
For each wrinkle and line told the struggle of time
Then he gazed once again and his eyes filled with tears
For the man in that picture was his friend Padraic Pearse

There´s a faded old picture on the wall all alone
A dusty old picture, the pride of his home
With a harp and a shamrock with these words underneath
"Ireland unfree shall never be at peace"

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

A Rebel Song

Come workers, sing a rebel song, a song of love and hate,
Of love unto the lowly, and of hatred to the great
The great who trod our fathers down, who steal our childrens bread,
Whose hand of greed is stretched to rob the living and the dead

Then sing our rebel song, as we proudly sweep along
To end the age-long tyranny that makes for human tears
Our march is nearer done with each setting of the sun,
And the tyrants might is passing with the passing of the years.

We sing no song of wailing, and no song of sights or tears,
High are our hopes and stout our hearts, and banished all our fears
Our flag is raised above us so that all the world may see
'Tis Labour's faith and Labours arm alone can labour free.

Out from the depths of misery we march with hearts aflame,
With wrath against the rulers false who wreck our menhoods name
The serf who licks his tyrants rod may bend forgiving knee.
The slave who breaks his slaverys chain a wrathful man must be.

Our army marches onward with its face towards the dawn,
In trust secure in that one thing the slave may lean upon,
The might within the arm of him who, knowing freedom's worth,
Strikes home to banish tyranny from off the face of earth

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Irish Soldier Laddie

Twas a morning in July, I was walking to Tipperary
When I heard a battle cry from the mountains over head
As I looked up in the sky I saw an Irish soldier laddie
He looked at me right fearlessly and said:

Will ye stand in the band like a true Irish man
And go and fight the forces of the crown?
Will ye march with O'Neill to an Irish battle field?
For tonight we go to free old Wexford town!

Said I to that soldier boy,
"Won't you take me to your captain
T'would be my pride and joy for to march with you today
My young brother fell in Cork and my son at Enniscorthy!"
Unto the noble captain I did say:

I will stand in the band like a true Irish man
And go and fight the forces of the crown
I will march with O'Neill to an Irish battle field
For tonight we go to free old Wexford town!

As we marched back from the field in the shadow of the evening
With our banners flying low to the memory of our dead
We returned unto our homes but without my soldier laddie
Yet I never will forget those words he said:

Will ye stand in the band like a true Irish man
And go and fight the forces of the crown?
Will ye march with O'Neill to an Irish battle field?
For tonight we go to free old Wexford town!

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Men Behind The Wire

Armoured cars and tanks and guns
Came to take away our sons
But every man must stand behind
The men behind the wire

Through the little streets of Belfast
In the dark of early morn
British soldiers came marauding
Wrecking little homes with scorn

Heedless of the crying children
Cragging fathers from their beds
Beating sons while helpless mothers
Watched the blood poor from their heads

Not for them a judge and jury
Nor indeed a trial at all
But being Irish means you´re guilty
So we´re guilty one and all

Round the world the truth will echo
Cromwell´s men are here again
England´s name again is sullied
In the eyes of honest men.

Proud we march behind our banner
Firm we´ll stand behind our men
We will have them free to help us
Build a nation once again

On the people step together
Proudly firmly on their way
Never fear never falter
Till the boys are home to stay

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Irish Ways And Irish Laws

Once upon a time there was
Irish ways and Irish laws,
Villages of Irish blood
Waking to the morning,
Waking to the morning.

Then the Vikings came around,
Turned us up and turned us down,
Started building boats and towns,
And tried to change our living,
They tried to change our living.

Cromwell and his soldiers came,
Started centuries of shame,
But they could not make us turn,
We are a river flowing,
We are a river flowing.

Again, again the soldiers came,
Burnt our houses, stole our grain.
Shot the farmers in the fields
Working for a living,
Working for a living.

800 years we have been down,
The secret of the water sound
Has kept the spirit of a man
Above the pain descending,
Above the pain descending.

Today the struggle carries on,
I wonder will I live so long
To see the gates been opened up
To a people and their freedom,
To a people and their saoirse
To a people and their freedom

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

The West's Awake

When all beside a vigil keep,
The West's asleep, the West's asleep -
Alas! and well may Erin weep
When Connacht lies in slumber deep.
There lake and plain smile fair and free,
'Mid rocks their guardian chivalry.
Sing, Oh ! let man learn liberty
From crashing wind and lashing sea.

That chainless wave and lovely land
Freedom and nationhood demand;
Be sure the great God never planned
For slumb'ring slaves a home so grand.
And long a brave and haughty race
Honoured and sentinelled the place.
Sing, Oh! not even their sons' disgrace
Can quite destroy their glory's trace.

For often, in O'Connor's van,
To triumph dashed each Connacht clan.
And fleet as deer the Normans ran
Thro' Corrsliabh Pass and Ardrahan;
And later times saw deeds as brave,
And glory guards Clanricard's grave,
Sing, Oh! they died their land to save
At Aughrim's slopes and Shannon's wave.

And if, when all a vigil keep,
The West's asleep! the West's asleep!
Alas! and well may Erin weep
That Connacht lies in s1umber deep.
But, hark! a voice like thunder spake,
The West's awake! the West's awake!
Sing, Oh! hurrah! let England quake,
We'll watch till death for Erin's sake

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Kevin Barry

In Mountjoy Jail one Monday morning,
High upon the gallows tree,
Kevin Barry gave his young life
For the cause of liberty.
Just a lad of eighteen summers,
Yet no one can deny,
As he walked to death that morning
He proudly held his head on high.

Just before he faced the hangman,
In his dreary prison cell,
British soldiers tortured Barry
Just because he would not tell
The names of his brave comrades,
And other things they wished to know,
'Turn informer and we'll free you!'
Kevin Barry answered 'No!'

Calmly standing to attention,
As he bade his last farewell
To his broken-hearted mother,
Whose sad grief no one can tell,
For the cause he proudly cherished
This sad parting had to be;
Then to death walked, softly smiling,
That old Ireland might be free.

Another martyr for old Ireland,
Another murder for the crown,
Brutal laws may kill the Irish,
But can't keep their spirit down.
Lads like Barry are no cowards,
From their foe they will not fly;
Lads like Barry will free Ireland,
For her sake they live and die.

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Long Kesh

There is a place just outside Lisburn
It´s a place that´s known to few
Where a group of Irish rebels
Are held by Faulkner´s crew
There are forced to live in cages
Like the inmates of Bellevue
But the spirit of 1916
Will always see them through

The men in this vile place
They come from far and near
Some from the Derry Bogside
And Omagh town so near
And some of them from Belfast
From the Markets and the Falls
From the narrow streets of Ardoyne
And all around Tyrone

On that black day in August
When Faulkner showed his hand
He thought that by internment
He could break our gallant band
But the boys from Ballymurphy
How they showed the way that night
How they taught those English soldiers
How Irishmen could fight

Long Kesh it´s known to everyone
The system must be broke
Ardoyne, the New Lodge and the Falls
Will see the system choke
No more the Special Powers Act
Those fiends they will invoke
And Long Kesh will be the U stone
On which the system´s broke

A word now Irish people
No matter where you are
Remember our brave rebels
In Long Kesh this year
And by civil disobedience
Or any other way
Let's make a stand until the day
Each one of them are free

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

The Broad Black Brimmer

There´s an uniform that´s hanging in what´s known as father´s room
An uniform so simple in his style
It has no braid of gold or silk no hat with feathered plume
Yet the mother has preserved it all the while
One day she made me try it on, a wish of mine for years
"In memory of your father, son" she said
And when I put the Sam Browne on she was smiling with the tears
As she placed the broad black brimmer on my head

It´s just a broad black brimmer with ribbons frayed and torn
By the careless whisk of many a mountain breeze
An old trench coat that´s battle stained and worn
And breeches almost threadbare at the knees
A Sam Brown belt with buckle big and strong
A holster that´s been empty many´s a day
When men claim Ireland´s freedom the one who'll choose to lead them
Will wear the broad black brimmer of the IRA

It was the uniform been worn by me father long ago
When he reached me mothers homestead on the run
It was the uniform me father wore in that little church below
When our Father Mac he blessed the pair as one
And after truce and treaty and the parting of the ways
He wore it when he marched out with the rest
And when they bore his body down that rugged heather braes
They placed the broad black brimmer on his breast

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Loughall Martyrs

I've sung so many songs of fallen heroes
I really thought that I had said it all
But if a song can fill our hearts and raise our spirits
Then I'll sing about our martyrs at Loughgall,
When the Irish nation bowed its head in sorrow
Such sadness as this country's seldom known
For Monaghan has lost a gallant soldier
With seven Volunteers from green Tyrone

Oh England do you really think its over?
'Cause if you do you're going to have to kill us all
For until you take your murderers out of Ireland
We will make them rue the blood spill at Loughgall

It was on a warm and misty Friday evening
The scent of apple blossom filled the air
That village street seemed quiet and deserted
But hidden eyes were watching everywhere,
The digger bomb had only reached its target
The trap was sprung and gunfire filled the air
The SAS did not want any prisoners
"Shoot to kill!" their orders were quite clear

Oh England do you really think its over?
'Cause if you do you're going to have to kill us all
For until you take your murderers out of Ireland
Then we will make them rue the blood spill at Loughgall

They butchered eight young volunteers that evening
They were kicked and punched in case they were not dead
They dragged their bodies up and down that village
And filled their bodies full of British lead
Did you think that it would teach us all a lesson?
As such savagery the whole world was appalled
And don't you know that there's twenty more men waiting
For everyone you butchered at Loughgall

Oh England do you really think its over?
'Cause If you do you're going to have to kill us all
For until you take your murderers out of Ireland
Then we will make them rue the blood spill at Loughgall

Farewell Paddy Kelly and Jim Lynagh
No more you'll lead your fighting unit forth
Side by side with Pádraig McKearney and Tony Gormaley
You died to drive the British from the north
Declan Arthurs and the youthful Seamus Donnelly
On that night you were the youngest of them all
With Gerry O'Callaghan and the gallant Eugene Kelly
Oh your blood still stains the pavements at Loughgall

Oh England do you really think its over?
'Cause if you do you're going to have to kill us all
For until you take your murderers out of Ireland
Then we will make them rue the blood spill at Loughgall

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

The Man From the Daily Mail

Now Ireland's a very funny place Sir, it's a strange and troubled land
And the Irish are a very funny race Sir, every girl's in the Cumann na mBan
Every doggie has a tri-coloured ribbon tied firmly to its tail
And it wouldn't be surprising if there'd be another rising
Said the man from the Daily mail

Every bird upon my word is singing treble - I'm a rebel
Every hen it's said is laying hand-grenades over there Sir I declare Sir
And every cock in the farmyard stock crows in triumph for the Gael
And it wouldn't be surprising if there' be another rising
Said the man from the Daily Mail

Well the other day I travelled down to Clare Sir, I spied in an old boreen
A bunch of silly gooses there Sir, dressed in orange white and green
They marched to the German goose step as they whistled Grainne Bhaille
And I'm shaking in me shoes as I'm sending out the news said the man from the Daily Mail

Every bird upon my word is singing treble - I'm a rebel
Every hen it's said is laying hand-grenades over there Sir I declare Sir
And every cock in the farmyard stock crows in triumph for the gale
And it wouldn't be surprising if there' be another rising
Said the man from the Daily Mail

Now the whole place is seething with sedition it's Sinn Fein through and through
All the peelers they are joining local units and the passwords Sinn Fein too
Every doggie wears a tri-coloured ribbon tied firmly to its tail
And it wouldn't be surprising if there'd be another rising
Said the man form the Daily Mail

Every bird upon my word is singing treble - I'm a rebel
Every hen it's said is laying hand-grenades over there Sir I declare Sir
And every cock in the farmyard stock crows in triumph for the gale
And it wouldn't be surprising if there' be another rising
Said the man from the Daily Mail

Regards,
Eóin.

[Jarl]

The Boys Of The County Armagh [print]
(Trad)

Theres one fair county in Ireland
With memories so glorious and grand
Where nature has lavished its bounty
On the orchard of Erins green land
I love its cathedral city
Once founded by Patrick so true
And there in the heart of its bosom
Lie the ashes of Brian Boru

Its my old Irish home
Far across the foam
Although I've often left it
In foreign lands to roam
No matter where I wander
Through cities near and far
My hearts at home in old Ireland
In the county of Armagh

I've travelled through parts of this county
Through Newtown, Forkhill, Crossmaglen
And round by the gap of Mountnorris
And home by Blackwater again
Where the girls are so gay and so hearty
None fairer in Erin go Bragh
And where are the boys that can court them
The boys of the county Armagh

Its my old Irish home
Far across the foam
Although I've often left it
In foreign lands to roam
No matter where I wander
Through cities near and far
My hearts at home in old Ireland
In the county of Armagh

[Murphy]

Men of the West

Will you honor in song and in story
The names of the patriot men,
Whose valor has covered with glory
Full many a mountain and glen,
Forget not the boys of the heather
Who rallied their bravest and best
When Ireland was broken in Wexford
And looked for revenge to the West.

I give you the gallant old West, boys,
Where rallied our bravest and best
When Ireland lay broken and bleeding;
Hurrah for the men of the West!

The hilltops with glory were glowing
'Twas the eve of a bright harvest day,
When the ship we'd been wearily waiting
Sailed into Killala's broad bay.
And over the hills went the slogan
To awaken in every breast
The fire that has never been quenched, boys,
Among the true hearts of the West.

I give you the gallant old West, boys,
Where rallied our bravest and best
When Ireland lay broken and bleeding;
Hurrah for the men of the West!

Killala was ours at midnight,
And high over Ballina town
Our banners in triumph were waving
Before the next sun had gone down.
We gathered to speed the good work, boys
The true men from near and afar;
And history can tell how we routed
The redcoats through old Castlebar.

I give you the gallant old West, boys,
Where rallied our bravest and best
When Ireland lay broken and bleeding;
Hurrah for the men of the West!

And pledge me the stout sons of France, boys,
Bold Humbert and all his brave men,
Whose tramp, like the trumpet of battle,
Brought hope to the drooping again.
Since Ireland has caught to her bosom
On many a mountain and hill
The gallants who fell, so they're here, boys,
To cheer us to victory still.

I give you the gallant old West, boys,
Where rallied our bravest and best
When Ireland lay broken and bleeding;
Hurrah for the men of the West!

Though all the bright dreamings we cherished
Went down in disaster and woe,
The spirit of old is still with us
That never would bend to the foe.
And Connaught is ready whenever
The loud rolling tuck of the drum
Rings out to awaken the echoes
And tell us the morning has come.

I give you the gallant old West, boys,
Where rallied our bravest and best
When Ireland lay broken and bleeding;
Hurrah for the men of the West!

Regards,
Eóin.

[Jarl]

IRELAND, UNITED, GAELIC AND FREE

In Armagh and in Derry in Antrim and in Down
The North Gael is rising to bring down the Crown
Once more the old war cry and the blood running high
We'll fight for true Ireland for today we will die

Chorus:
Ireland united Gaelic and free
Land of my birth in freedom you'll be

From New York and Chicago in Sydney and in Perth
The Gaelic storm is growing it's sweeping across the earth
To serve the Queen or Kremlin in freedom we shall dwell
And to try to step in England's shoes we'll see them all in hell

Chorus:
Ireland united Gaelic and free
Land of my birth we're born to be free

The banshee's mournful whisper of an old lost battle scene
The true Gael's blood is falling to preserve our ancient green
The day of the slaver will no longer be
And when Gaels stand united they'll always be free

Chorus:
Ireland united Gaelic and free
Land of my birth in freedom you'll be

Is there any mind so yellow is there any heart so black
Can stand and watch their country torn apart on England's rack
Remember now in Belfast good men will fight and die
To keep the shining vision alive and burning high

Chorus:
Ireland united Gaelic and free
Shining in splendour our true destiny
Ireland united Gaelic and free
Shining in splendour our true destiny

[Murphy]

The SAM Song

Well I have been a Provo now for fifteen years or more,
With armalites and mortar bombs I thought I knew the score,
But now we have a weapon we've never used before,
The brits are looking worried, and there goin' to worry more.

Tiocfaidh ár lá, sing up the RA!
Ooh ahh up the ra, Ooh ahh up the RA,
SAM missiles, in the sky!

I started out with petrol bombs and throwing bricks and stone,
With a hundred more lads like me, I never was alone,
But soon I learned that bricks and stones wont drive the brits away,
It wasn't very long before (who did I join?) I joined the IRA!

And then there came internment in the year of seventy-one,
The brits thought we were beaten, thought we were on the run,
One early august morning they kicked in my back door,
For every one they took away (how many did they miss?)
They missed a hundred more!

I spent eight years in the cages, I had time to think and plan,
Although they locked away a boy, I walked out a man,
There's only one thing that I learned while in that cell I lay,
The brits will never leave, until they're blown away!

All through the days of hunger strikes I watched my comrades die,
And in the streets of Belfast you can here the women cry,
I cant forget the massacre that Friday at loughall,
I salute my fallen comrades as I watch the choppers fall!

Regards,
Eóin.

[Jarl]

IRISH SOLDIER LADDIE

(Paddy McGuigan)

'Twas a morning in July, I was walking to Tipperary
When I heard the battle cry from the mountains overhead
I looked into the sky, saw an Irish soldier laddie
He looked at me right fearlessly and said

Chorus:
Will you stand in the band, like a true Irishman
And go and fight the forces of the crown (Upside down)
Will you march with O'Neill to an Irish battle field
Tonight we'll go and free old Wexford Town

Said I to the soldier boy, "Will you take me to your, Captain,
It will be my pride and joy for to march with you today.”
"My young brother fell at Cork, and my son at Enniscorthy.”
And to the noble Captain I did say

Chorus:
I will stand in the band, like a true Irishman
And go and fight the forces of the crown (Upside down)
I will march with O'Neill to an Irish battle field
Tonight we'll go and free old Wexford Town

We marched back home again in the shadow of the evening
With our banner flying low to the memory of the dead
We came back home again, but with out our soldier laddie
But, I still can hear the brave words he said

Chorus:
Will you stand in the band, like a true Irishman
And go and fight the forces of the crown (Upside down)
Will you march with O'Neill to an Irish battle field
Tonight we'll and free old Wexford Town


I've also heard versions with other towns at the end (like Belfast).

[Murphy]

My Little Armalite

And it's down in the Bogside, that's where I long to be,
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,
A comrade on me left and another on me right
And a clip of ammunition for my little Armalite.

I was stopped by a soldier, said he, You are a swine,
He beat me with his baton and he kicked me in the groin,
I bowed and I scraped, sure me manners were polite
But all the time I'm thinking of me little Armalite.

And it's down in Crossmaglen, sure that's where I long to be,
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,
A comrade on me left and another on me right
And a clip of ammunition for my little Armalite

Sure a brave RUC man came up into our street
Six hundred British soldiers were gathered round his feet
Come out, ye cowardly Fenians, said he, come out and fight.
But he cried, I'm only joking, when he heard the Armalite.

Sure it's down in Kilwilkie, that's where I long to be,
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,
A comrade on me left and another on me right
And a clip of ammunition for my little Armalite.

Sure, the army came to visit me, 'twas in the early hours,
With Saladins and Saracens and Ferret armoured cars
They thought they had me cornered, but I gave them all a fright
With the armour piercing bullets of my little Armalite.

And it's down in the Falls Road, that's where I long to be,
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,
A comrade on me left and another on me right
And a clip of ammunition for my little Armalite.

When Tuzo came to Belfast, he said, The battle's won,
Said General Ford, We're winning sir, we have them on the run.
But corporals and privates on patrol at night,
Said, Send for reinforcements, it's the bloody Armalite.

And it's up in Ballymurphy, that's where I long to be,
Lying in the dark with a Provo company,
A comrade on me left and another on me right
And a clip of ammunition for my little Armalite.

Regards,
Eóin.

[Jarl]

The Waxies Dargle [play] [print]
(Trad)

Says my oul wan to your oul wan
Will you come to the Waxies Dargle
Says your oul wan to my oul wan
Sure I haven't got a farthin'
I went down to Monto Town
To see young Kill McArdle
But he wouldn't give me a half a crown
To go to the Waxies Dargle

What will you have?
Will you have a pint?
I'll have a pint with you sir
And if one of you don't order soon
We'll be thrown out of the boozer

Says my aul one to your aul one
Will you come to the Galway Races
Says your aul one to my aul one
With the price of my aul lad's braces
I went down to Capel Street
To the Jew man money lenders
But they wouldn't give me a couple of bob
On me oul lad's red suspenders

What will you have?
Will you have a pint?
I'll have a pint with you sir
And if one of you don't order soon
We'll be thrown out of the boozer

Says my aul one to your aul one
We have no beef nor mutton
But if we go down to Monto Town
We might get a drink for nothin'
Here's a nice piece of advice
I got from an aul fishmonger
When food is scarce and you see the hearse
You know you've died of hunger

What will you have?
Will you have a pint?
I'll have a pint with you sir
And if one of you don't order soon
We'll be thrown out of the boozer

Says my oul wan to your oul wan
Will you come to the Waxies Dargle
Says your oul wan to my oul wan
Sure I haven't got a farthin'
I went down to Monto Town
To see young Kill McArdle
But he wouldn't give me a half a crown
To go to the Waxies Dargle

What will you have?
Will you have a pint?
I'll have a pint with you sir
And if one of you don't order soon
We'll be thrown out of the boozer

[Murphy]

Roll of Honour

Read the roll of honour for Ireland's bravest men
we must be united in memory of the ten,
England you're a monster don’t think that you have won
we will never be defeated while Ireland has such sons,

In those weary H Block cages ten brave young Irishmen lay
hungering for justice while their young lives ebbed away,
for their rights as Irish soldiers and to free they’re native land
they stood beside their leader the gallant Bobby Sands,
Now they mourn Hughes in Bellaghy,
Ray McCreesh in Armagh's hills
In those narrow streets of Derry they miss O'Hara still,
They so proudly gave their young lives to break Britannia's hold
Their names will be remembered as history unfolds,

Through the war torn streets of Ulster
the black flags did proudly wave
To salute ten Irish martyrs the bravest of the brave,
Joe McDonnell, Martin Hurson, Kevin Lynch, Kieran Doherty
They gave their lives for freedom with Thomas McElwee
Michael Devine from Derry you were the last to die,
With your nine brave companions with the martyred dead you lie,
Your souls cry out remember, our deaths are not in vain
Fight on and make our homeland a nation once again.

Regards,
Eóin.

[Jarl]

"Muirsheen Durkin" is a traditional Irish folk song about emigration, although atypically optimistic for the genre. The name "Muirsheen" is a good phonetic approximation to the pronunciation of "Máirtín" (Martin) in the West of Ireland; it could alternatively be construed as a diminutive of "Muiris" (Maurice). A pratie is a potato, the historical staple crop of Ireland. "America" is pronounced "Americay", to rhyme with "stray", "away", etc. It's also how it's prounced in Irish Gaelige.

In the days I went a courtin' I was never tired resortin'
To an alehouse or a playhouse and many's the house beside
But I told me brother Seamus I'd go off and be right famous
And I'd never would return again 'til I'd roam the world wide

Goodbye Muirsheen Durkin sure I'm sick and tired of workin'
No more I'll dig the praties and no longer I'll be fooled
As sure as me name is Carney I'll be off to California
Where instead of diggin' praties I'll be diggin' lumps of gold

I've courted girls in Blarney in Kanturk and in Killarney
In Passage and in Queenstown that is the Cobh of Cork
Goodbye to all this pleasure I'll be off to take me leisure
And the next time that you hear from me will be a letter from New York

So it's goodbye Muirsheen Durkin I'm sick and tired of workin'
No more I'll dig the praties and no longer I'll be fooled
As sure as me name is Carney I'll be off to California
Where instead of diggin' praties I'll be diggin' lumps of gold

Goodbye to the girls at home I'm going far across the foam
To try and make me fortune in far America
There's gold and jewels in plenty for the poor and for the gentry
And when I return again I never more will say

Goodbye Muirsheen Durkin sure I'm sick and tired of workin'
No more I'll dig the praties and no longer I'll be fooled
For as sure as me name is Carney I'll be off to California
Where instead of diggin' praties I'll be diggin' lumps of gold

[Murphy]

H-Block Song

I am a proud young Irishman.
In Ulster's hills my life began;
A happy boy through green fields ran;
I kept God's and man's laws.
But when my age was barely ten
My country's wrongs were told again.
By tens of thousands marching men
And my heart stirred to the cause.

So I'll wear no convict's uniform
Nor meekly serve my time
That Britain might brand lreland's fight
Eight hundred years of crime.

I learned of centuries of strife,
Of cruel laws, injustice rife;
I saw now in my own young life
The fruits of foreign sway:
Protestors threatened, tortured, maimed,
Divisions nurtured, passions flamed,
Outrage provoked, right's cause defamed;
This is the conqueror's way.

So I'll wear no convict's uniform
Nor meekly serve my time
That Britain might brand lreland's fight
Eight hundred years of crime.


Descended from proud Connacht clan,
Concannon served cruel Britain's plan;
Man' s inhumanity to man
Had spawned a trusty slave.
No strangers are these bolts and locks,
No new design these dark H-Blocks,
Black Cromwell lives while Mason stalks;
The bully taunts the brave.

So I'll wear no convict's uniform
Nor meekly serve my time
That Britain might brand lreland's fight
Eight hundred years of crime.

Does Britain need a thousand years
Of protest, riot, death and tears,
Or will this past decade of fears
Of eighty decades spell
An end to Ireland's agony,
New hope for human dignity;
And will the last obscenity
Be this grim H-Block cell?

So I'll wear no convict's uniform
Nor meekly serve my time
That Britain might brand lreland's fight
Eight hundred years of crime.

Regards,
Eóin.

[Jarl]

Old Maid in the Garret

Now I've often heard it said from me father and me mother
That the going tae a wedding is the making of another
Well, if this be true, I will go without a biddin
O kind providence, won't you send me tae a wedding

And its O dear me, how would it be,
if I die an old maid in a garret

Well, there's my sister Jean, she's not handsome or good looking
Scarcely sixteen and a fella she was courting
Now at twenty-four with a son and a daughter
Here am I at forty-five and I've never had an offer

I can cook and I can sew and I can keep the house right tidy
Rise up in the morning and get the breakfast ready
There's nothing in this whole world would make me half so cheery
As a wee fat man to call me his own deary

So come landsman or come pinsman, come tinker or come tailor
Come fiddler or come dancer, come ploughboy or come sailor
Come rich man, come poor man, come fool or come witty
Come any man at all that will marry me for pity

Well now I'm away home for nobody's heeding
Nobody's heeding and nobody's pleading
I'll go away to my own bitty garret
If I can't get a man, then I'll have to get a parrot

[Murphy]

Tiocfaidh ár lá

Tiocfaidh ár lá, our day will come
Our glorious day, for Erin`s fighting sons
The day will come, we will be free
Tiocfaidh ár lá, the dawn of liberty.

It's been a long 800 years
Of British scorn and Irish tears
And only freedom will suffice
We've made too long a sacrifice

And those who hold the power today
A full account you'll have to pay
To those held down by unjust laws
Because they love our freedom's cause

And those who make the prisons hell
Who hold the keys and lock the cells
Your time will come, it's long due
We'll have our chance to turn the screw

Slán go fóill
Tiocfaidh ár lá

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Sunday Bloody Sunday

One fateful day in Derry,
while walking in parade
a group of peaceful Irish men
where destined for their grave
they were marching for their freedom,
when struck by British lead
and when they cleared away the smoke
they counted 13 dead

the paratroops where waiting
and coldly gunned them down
on Sunday Bloody Sunday
in lovley Derry town
the paratroops where waiting
and coldly gunned them down
on Sunday Bloody Sunday
in lovley Derry town

they only asked for justice,
that was their human right
to end their shame and sorrow
to bid them from their lives
just ordinary people
who lived with fear and stife
until the armed invaders
deprived them of their lives

the paratroops where waiting
and coldly gunned them down
on Sunday Bloody Sunday
in lovley Derry town
the paratroops where waiting
and coldly gunned them down
on Sunday Bloody Sunday
in lovley Derry town

that day will live forever
in scornful memory
and those men who died
in their quest for liberty
they died for this desire
that we Irish understand
for the peace between the people
and the love of Ireland

the paratroops where waiting
and coldly gunned them down
on Sunday Bloody Sunday
in lovley Derry town
the paratroops where waiting
and coldly gunned them down
on Sunday Bloody Sunday
in lovley Derry town

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Skibereen

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 Skibereen.

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 Skibereen.

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 Skibereen.

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 Skibereen.

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 Skibereen!

Regards,
Eóin.

[Jarl]

The Black Velvet Band


The Black Velvet Band
“The Black Velvet Band” is one of the many Irish folk songs that made it over the sea and found a home in the Appalachian Mountains of America. In America, it is usually known as “The Girl in the Blue Velvet Band,” and is highly adapted, becoming a simple tale of love lost--more like "Molly Malone"-- rather than the Irish version of loving the wrong woman.

Although not known as an English folk song, the reference to a British prison colony implies that there may be some cultural crossover due to the conquest of Ireland. The song is popular in Britain as well.

The traditional Irish version of “The Black Velvet Band” tells a story of a young apprentice tradesman. He falls in love with a roguish woman of great beauty, who entwines him in her thievery. The black velvet band refers to the band she used to tie her hair.

Before long they are caught and punished by being sent to “Van Dieman’s Land,” now known as Tasmania. So far from his family, the man continues to follow the Black Velvet Band.

These three songs: “Danny Boy,” “Molly Malone,” and “The Black Velvet Band” represent the influence that Irish music has had over the music of the world. So pervasive is the influence, that one might not be able to tell the difference between what is Irish, and what is not.

In a neat little town they call Belfast
Apprenticed in trade I was bound
And many an hour of sweet happiness
I spent in that neat little town
Till bad misfortune befell me
And caused me to stray from the land
Far away from my friends and relations
To follow the black velvet band

Chorus
Her eyes they shone like the diamond
You'd think she was queen of the land
And her hair hung over her shoulder
Tied up in a black velvet band

Well, I was out strolling one evening
Not meaning to go very far
When I met with a pretty young damsel
She was selling her trade in a bar
When I watched, she took from a customer
And slipped it right into my hand
Then the Watch came and put me in prison
Bad luck to the black velvet band

Next morning before judge and jury
For our trial I had to appear
The judge, he said, "Young fellow
The case against you is quite clear
And seven years is your sentence
You're going to Van Dieman's Land
Far away from your friends and relations
To follow the black velvet band"

So come all you jolly young fellows
I'd have you take warning by me
And whenever you're out on the liquor
Beware of the pretty colleen
They'll fill your with whiskey and porter
Until you're not able to stand
And the very next thing that you know
You're landed in Van Dieman's Land

[Murphy]

On The One Road

We're on the one road, sharing the one load
We're on the road to God knows where
We're on the one road, it may be the wrong road
But we're together now who cares?
Northmen, Southmen, comrades all!
Dublin, Belfast, Cork or Donegal!
We're on the one road, swinging along, singin' a soldier's song!

Though we've had our troubles now and then
Now's the time to make them up again
Sure aren't we all Irish anyhow?
Now is the time to step together now

We're on the one road, sharing the one load
We're on the road to God knows where
We're on the one road, it may be the wrong road
But we're together now who cares?
Northmen, Southmen, comrades all!
Dublin, Belfast, Cork or Donegal!
We're on the one road, swinging along, singin' a soldier's song!

Tinker, tailor * every mother's son
Butcher, baker * shouldering his gun
Rich man, poor man * every man in line
All together, just like Auld Lang Syne!

We're on the one road, sharing the one load
We're on the road to God knows where
We're on the one road, it may be the wrong road
But we're together now who cares?
Northmen, Southmen, comrades all!
Dublin, Belfast, Cork or Donegal!
We're on the one road, swinging along, singin' a soldier's song!

Night is darkness just before the dawn
From dissensions, Ireland is reborn
Soon, will all United Irishmen
Make our land a Nation Once Again!

We're on the one road, sharing the one load
We're on the road to God knows where
We're on the one road, it may be the wrong road
But we're together now who cares?
Northmen, Southmen, comrades all!
Dublin, Belfast, Cork or Donegal!
We're on the one road, swinging along, singin' a soldier's song!

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Over The Wall

In the Crumlin Road jail it happened one day
They out a football and started to play
while all of the warders were watching the ball
Nine of the prisoners jumped over the wall

Over the wall, over the wall
Who could believe they jumped over the wall
Over the wall, over the wall
It's hard to believe they jumped over the wall

Now the warders looked on with the greatest surprise
And the sight that they saw brought the tears to their eyes
For one of the teams was not there at all
They all got transferred and jumped over the wall

Over the wall, over the wall
Who could believe they jumped over the wall
Over the wall, over the wall
It's hard to believe they jumped over the wall

Now the governor he came down with his face in a twist
Said, "Line up these lads while I check out my list"
when nine of the lads didn't answer the call
The warder said," Please, sir they're over the wall."

Over the wall, over the wall
Who could believe they jumped over the wall
Over the wall, over the wall
It's hard to believe they jumped over the wall

The security forces were shook to the core
So they barred every window and bolted each door
But all of their precautions were no use at all
For another three prisoners jumped over the wall

Over the wall, over the wall
Who could believe they jumped over the wall
Over the wall, over the wall
It's hard to believe they jumped over the wall

When the news reached old Stormont, Faulkner turned pale
When he heard that more men had escaped from his jail.
Said he, "Now we'll have an enquiry to call
And we'll get Edmund Compton to whitewash the wall."

Over the wall, over the wall
Who could believe they jumped over the wall
Over the wall, over the wall
It's hard to believe they jumped over the wall

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

The Town I Love So Well

In my memory I’ll always see
The town that I love so well
Where the school played ball by the old gasyard wall
And we laughed through the smoke and the smell

Going home in the rain, running up the dark lane
Past the jail and down behind the Fountain
Those were happy days in so many many ways
In the town I love so well

In the early mornig, the shirt factory horn
Called women from the Creggan, the Moor and the Bog
While the men on the dole played the mother’s role
Fed the children then, walked the dog

And when times got tough there was just about enough
And we saw it through without complaining
For deep inside there was a burning pride
For the town I love so well

There was music there in the Derry air
Like a language that we could all understand
I remember the day that I earned my first pay
When I played in the small pick up van

There I spent my youth and to tell you the truth
I was sad to see to leave it all behind me
For I found me a wife and I learned about life
In the town I love so well

But when I returned how my eyes were burned
To see how a town could be brought to its knees
By the British armoured cars and the bombed out bars
And the gas that hangs on to every breeze

Now the British army is installed by the old gasyard wall
And their damn barbed wire gets higher and higher
With their British tanks and their foreign guns,
Oh my God, what have they done
To the town I love so well

Now the music’s gone but we carry on
For our spirit has been bruised never broken
We will not forget but our hearts our set
On tomorrow and maybe peace once again

For what’s done is done, but this land can still be won
And what’s lost can be won back again
I can only pray for a bright brand new day
In the town I love so well

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Padraic Pearse

In Dublin town in 1916 the flame of freedom did arise
A group of men with determination caught an empire by surprise
Through the steets our men were marching they rallied with their hopes and fears
And the Enda boys came searching for their leader Padraic Pearse

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

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

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

For five long days the battle rages for five long nights the battle wore
We'll watch as Dublin city blazes and see our men go through the floor
Now Ireland's proud of our effort for her cause we fought with pride
But to save more life and to save our city we'll make our peace, MacParais cried

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

Kimainham Jail in 1916 they brought young Pearse to his death cell
And there they tried him as a traitor to shoot this man who dared rebel
He only tried to free his country of the shackles of 800 years
As dawn did break on that may morning they shot our leader Padraic Pearse

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

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Patriot Game

Come all ye young rebels, and list while I sing,
For the love of one's country is a terrible thing.
It banishes fear with the speed of a flame,
And it makes us all part of the patriot game.

My name is O'Hanlon, and I've just turned sixteen.
My home is in Monaghan, that's where I was weaned.
I learned all my life cruel England's to blame,
So now I am part of the patriot game.

It's nearly two years since I wandered away
With the local battalion of the bold IRA,
For I read of our heroes, and wanted the same
To play out my part in the patriot game.

I joined a batallion from dear Ballybay
And gave up my boyhood so happy and gay.
For now as a soldier I'd drill and I'd train
To play my full part in the patriot game.

They told me how Connolly was shot in his chair,
His wounds from the fighting all bloody and bare.
His fine body twisted, all battered and lame.
They soon made me part of the patriot game.

This Ireland of ours has long been half free.
Six counties are under John Bull's tyranny.
But still De Valera is greatly to blame
For shirking his part in the Patriot game.

I don't mind a bit if I shoot down police
They are lackeys for war never guardians of peace
And yet at deserters I'm never let aim
The rebels who sold out the patriot game

And now as I lie here, my body all holes
I think of those traitors who bargained and sold
And I wish that my rifle had given the same
To those Quislings who sold out the patriot game

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Rifles of the IRA

In nineteen hundred and sixteen,
The Forces of the Crown,
To Capture Orange, White and Green,
Bombarded Dublin Town,
But in twenty one, Britannia's sons,
Were forced to earn their pay,
When the Black and Tans, like lightning ran
From the rifles of the IRA

They burned their way through Munster
and laid Leinster on the rack,
Through Connaught and through Ulster,
Marched those men in brown and black,
They shot down wives and children,
In their own barbaric way,
Then the Black and Tans, like lightning ran
From the rifles of the IRA

They hanged young Kevin Barry high
A lad of eighteen years
Our city's flames lit up the sky,
Our brave men knew no fear,
The Cork Brigade with handgrenades,
in ambush laid in wait,
then the Black and Tans, like lightning ran
From the rifles of the IRA

The Tans were taken out and shot,
By a brave and fearless group,
Sean Tracey, Denny Lacey and Tom Barry's gallant crew,
We're not free yet and won't forget until our dying day,
when the Black and Tans, like lightning ran,
From the Rifles of the IRA

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Sean South

'Twas on a dreary New Year's Eve when the shades of night fell 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 lad, Sean South of Garryowen.

And as they moved along the street up to the barrack door
The scorned the danger they would meet, the fate that lay in store
They were fighting for old Ireland, to save their very own
And the leader of that gallant band was South of Garryowen.

But the sergeant foiled their daring plan, he spied them through the door
From the guns and all the rifles too, a hail of death did pour
And when that awful night was o'er two men lay cold as stone
There was one from near the border and one from Garryowen.

No more he'll hear the seagull cry, or the murmuring Shannon's tide
For he fell beneath a northern sky, brave O'Hanlon by his side
He's gone to join that gallant band of Plunkett, Pierce and Tone
Another martyr for old Ireland, Sean South of Garryowen.

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

The Soldiers of Cumann na mBan

All honour to Óglaigh na hÉireann,
All praise to the men of our race,
Who, in day 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 Cumann na mBan.

They stand for the honour of Ireland,
As their sisters in days that are gone,
And they'll march with their brothers to freedom,
The soldiers of Cumann na mBan.

All honour to Óglaigh na hÉireann,
All praise to the men of our race,
Who, in day 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 Cumann na mBan.

They stand for the honour of Ireland,
As their sisters in days that are gone,
and they'll march with their brothers to freedom,
The soldiers of Cumann na mBan.

No great-hearted daughter of Ireland,
Who died for her sake long ago,
Who stood in the gap of her danger,
Defying the Sassenach foe,
Was ever more gallant or worthy,
Of glory in high sounding rann,
than the comrades of Óglaigh na hÉireann,
The soldiers of Cumann na mBan!

O, high beat the hearts of our Mother,
The day she had 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 daughters who served in her danger,
The soldiers of Cumann na mBan!

They stand for the honour of Ireland,
As their sisters in days that are gone,
And they'll march with their brothers to freedom,
The soldiers of Cumann na mBan.

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

The Soldier's Song (National Anthem) - English version

We'll sing a song, a soldier's song,
With cheering, rousing chorus,
As round our blazing fires we throng,
The starry heavens o'er us;
Impatient for the coming fight,
And as we wait the morning's light,
Here in the silence of the night
We'll chant a soldier's song.

Soldiers are we, whose lives are pledged to Ireland;
Some have come from a land beyond the wave.
Sworn to be free, no more our ancient sireland
Shall shelter the despot or the slave.
Tonight we man the 'bhearna bhaoil',
In Erin's cause, come woe or weal;
'Mid cannons' roar and rifles' peal
We'll chant a soldier's song.

In valley green, on towering crag,
Our fathers fought before us,
And conquered 'neath that same old flag
That's proudly floating o'er us.
We're children of a fighting race
That never yet has known disgrace,
And as we march, the foe to face,
We'll chant a soldier's song.

Soldiers are we, whose lives are pledged to Ireland;
Some have come from a land beyond the wave.
Sworn to be free, no more our ancient sireland
Shall shelter the despot or the slave.
Tonight we man the 'bhearna bhaoil',
In Erin's cause, come woe or weal;
'Mid cannons' roar and rifles' peal
We'll chant a soldier's song.

Sons of the Gael, Men of the Pale,
The long watch'd day is breaking,
The serried ranks of Inisfail,
Shall set the tyrant quaking,
Our camp fires now are burning low,
See in the east a silvery glow,
Out yonder waits the Saxon foe,
So chant a Soldier's song.

Soldiers are we, whose lives are pledged to Ireland;
Some have come from a land beyond the wave.
Sworn to be free, no more our ancient sireland
Shall shelter the despot or the slave.
Tonight we man the 'bhearna bhaoil',
In Erin's cause, come woe or weal;
'Mid cannons' roar and rifles' peal
We'll chant a soldier's song.

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Brú na Boínne

Your mysteries lay hidden in stones that can't speak
Throughout time all your wonderous knowledge we seek
Be ye tomb or ye temple, we'd like to know why
On mid-winter's morning you seek light from the sky
Your white quartz stones must have brightened the days
When the sun shone down and reflected it's rays
You refuse us a key or some Rosette Stone
We just gaze on your symbols, your motiffs and bones

Chorus:
Sing away Brú na Boínne on the banks of the Boyne
Fol de da, for your glory will not yield to time
Glory-O! To the men and the women laid to rest
Who brought greatness to Ireland, the Isle of the Blessed

From your pillars of grandeur an answer is sought
When the tomb of the Pharaohs were only a thought
Irish folk in their labour looked up from the Boyne
To see standing a monument that would not yield to time
You saw chieftains, Na Fianna, and monks stop to call
As they trampled the hills on to Tara's white halls
And they watched on the cradle of our enlightened design
That inspired Irish artists much later in time

Chorus:
Sing away Brú na Boínne on the banks of the Boyne
Fol de da, for your glory will not yield to time
Glory-O! To the men and the women laid to rest
Who brought greatness to Ireland, the Isle of the Blessed

For your place in a county still royal with it's arms
And a river of beauty with countless wild charms
You stand there majestic, a tower on the plain
And your passage of wonder, a secret remains
So be proud of old Eireann, the history long gone
That inspired generations of men later on
Your age is your greatness and a testament still
As you stand Brú na Boínne on a County Meath hill

Chorus:
Sing away Brú na Boínne on the banks of the Boyne
Fol de da, for your glory will not yield to time
Glory-O! To the men and the women laid to rest
Who brought greatness to Ireland, the Isle of the Blessed

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Let the People Sing

Let the people sing their stories and their songs
And the music of their native land
Their lullabies and battle-cries and songs of open joy
Join us hand in hand
All across this ancient land, throughout the test of time
It was music that kept our spirits free, those songs of yours and of mine

Ireland, land of song, your music lives forever
In your mountains and your valleys, your hills and in your glens
Our music has survived through famine and oppression
For the generations gone, we'll sing for you this song

Let the people sing their stories and their songs
And the music of their native land
Their lullabies and battle-cries and songs of open joy
Join us hand in hand
All across this ancient land, throughout the test of time
It was music that kept our spirits free, those songs of your and of mine

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Ballad of Mairead Farrell

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there I do not sleep,
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
When Ireland lives I do not die.

A woman's place is not at home,
The fight for freedom it still goes on,
I took up my gun until freedoms day,
I pledged to fight for the I.R.A.

In Armagh jail I served my time,
Strip searches were a British crime,
Degraded me but they could not see,
I'd suffer this to see Ireland free.

Gibraltar was the place I died,
McCann and Savage were by my side,
I heard the order so loud and shrill,
Of Thatcher's voice, said shoot to kill.

So do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there I do not sleep,
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
When Ireland lives I do not die.

Regards,
Eóin.

[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.

[Murphy]

Garvaghy Road

On a lonely Drumcree hill
Ten thousand Orangemen are waiting.
They want to walk the streets of Portadown
Their sashes and their flutes
Their bowler hats and suits
But they'll not be marching down Garvaghy Road

Low lie the fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly.
"Hey baby let the free birds fly!"
It's plain for us to see
Take your tents up to Drumcree
Because you'll not be marching down Garvaghy Road

By a lonely prison wall
I heard a young girl calling
Michael they are taking you away.
For you stole Trevelyn's corn
So the young might see the morn
But they'll still not be marching down Garvaghy Road

Low lie the fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly.
"Hey baby let the free birds fly!"
It's plain for us to see
Take your tents up to Drumcree
Because you'll not be marching down Garvaghy Road

By a lonely prison wall
I heard a young boy calling
Nothing matters Rangers cause we're gonna win the league
Against the Famine and the Crown
I rebelled they cut me down
But they'll still not be marching down Garvaghy Road

Low lie the fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly.
"Hey baby let the free birds fly!"
It's plain for us to see
Take your tents up to Drumcree
Because you'll not be marching down Garvaghy Road

Alone stands the Drumcree ridge
They are standing on the Ormeau bridge
Cause they want to do their walking on our streets
With the sound of foots and drums
But there'll be no more Orange scum
Marching down Garvaghy Road and the Ormeau bridge.

Low lie the fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly.
"Hey baby let the free birds fly!"
It's plain for us to see
Take your tents up to Drumcree
Because you'll not be marching down Garvaghy Road

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

A Row in the Town

I'll tell you a story of a row in the town
When the green flag went up and the Crown rag came down
'Twas the neatest and sweetest thing ever you saw
And they played the best games played in Erin Go Bragh

One of our comrades was down at Ring's End
For the honor of Ireland to hold and defend
He had no veteran soldiers but volunteers raw
Playing sweet Mauser music for Erin Go Bragh

Now here's to Pat Pearse and our comrades who died
Tom Clarke, MacDonagh, MacDiarmada, McBryde [?]
And here's to James Connolly who gave one hurrah
And faced the machine guns for Erin Go Bragh

One brave English captain was ranting that day
Saying, "Give me one hour and I'll blow you away,"
But a big Mauser bullet got stuck in his craw
And he died of lead poisoning in Erin Go Bragh

Old Ceannt and his comrades like lions at bay
From the South Dublin Union poured death and dismay
And what was their horror when the Englishmen saw
All the dead khaki soldiers in Erin Go Bragh

Now here's to old Dublin, and here's her renown
In the long generation her fame will go down
And our children will tell how their forefathers saw
The red blaze of freedom in Erin Go Bragh

Regards,
Eóin.

[Ulf]

My favorite:
ORifieiZiP4

[Murphy]

Ballad of William 'Billy' Reid

I'll sing you a song of a terrible wrong,
When the flags all flew at half mast.
And a man he lay dead he'd been riddled with lead,
And he died on the streets of Belfast.

All the radio said was another shot dead
And he died with a gun in his hand
But they never said why Billy Reid had to die
'Cause he died to free Ireland.

It happened one day when the bold IRA
Set out to fight for their land
With an old Thompson gun put the troops on the run
And return to their home was their plan.

All the radio said was another shot dead
And he died with a gun in his hand
But they never said why Billy Reid had to die
'Cause he died to free Ireland.

While returning the guns Billy met British Huns
And when the fight had begun
His position was dire when his gun wouldn't fire
So he died with that old Thompson gun.

All the radio said was another shot dead
And he died with a gun in his hand
But they never said why Billy Reid had to die
'Cause he died to free Ireland.

Allthough he lay dead he was kicked in the head,
By the hair they dragged him around.
But the still fear him yet and we can never forget,
How brave Billy Reid stood his ground.

All the radio said was another shot dead
And he died with a gun in his hand
But they never said why Billy Reid had to die
'Cause he died to free Ireland.

If you think he was right come and join in the fight,
And help us to free Belfast.
For the blood that he shed and although he lay dead,
In our hearts his memory will last.

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

A Bunch of Wild Thyme

Come all ye maidens young and fair
And you that are blooming in your prime
Always beware and keep your garden fair
Let no man steal away your thyme

Chorus: For thyme it is a precious thing
And thyme brings all things to my mind
nlyme with all its flavours, along with all its joys
Thyme, brings all things to my mind

Once I and a bunch of thyme
i thought it never would decay
Then came a lusty sailor
Who chanced to pass my way
And stole my bunch of thyme away
Chorus

The sailor gave to me a rose
A rose that never would decay
He gave it to me to keep me reminded
Of when he stole my thyme away
Chorus

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

An Irish Lullaby

Over in Killarney
Many years ago,
Me Mither sang a song to me
In tones so sweet and low.
Just a simple little ditty,
In her good ould Irish way,
And l'd give the world if she could sing
That song to me this day.

Chorus:
"Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry!
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby."

Oft in dreams I wander
To that cot again,
I feel her arms a-huggin' me
As when she held me then.
And I hear her voice a -hummin'
To me as in days of yore,
When she used to rock me fast asleep
Outside the cabin door.

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Dirty Old Town

I found my love by the gasworks croft
Dreamed a dream by the old canal
Kissed my girl by the factory wall
Dirty old town, dirty old town.

Clouds are drifting across the moon
Cats are prowling on their beat
Spring's a girl in the street at night
Dirty old town, dirty old town.

I heard a siren from the docks
Saw a train set the night on fire
Smelled the spring in the smokey wind
Dirty old town, dirty old town.

I'm going to make a good sharp axe
Shining steel tempered in the fire
We'll chop you down like an old dead tree
Dirty old town, dirty old town.

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Banks of the Roses

On the banks of the roses, my love and I sat down
And I took out my violin to play my love a tune
In the middle of the tune, O she sighed and she said
O Johnny, lovely Johnny, Would you leave me

O when I was a young man, I heard my father say
That he'd rather see me dead and buried in the clay
Sooner than be married to any runaway
By the lovely sweet banks of the roses

O then I am no runaway and soon I'll let them know
I can take a good glass or leave it alone
And the man that doesn't like me, he can keep
his daughter home
And young Johnny will go roving with another

And if ever I get married, twill be in the month of May
When the leaves they are green and the meadows
they are gay
And I and my true love can sit and sport and play
On the lovely sweet banks of the roses

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

Rocky Road to Dublin

In the merry month of June from me home I started,
Left the girls of Tuam so sad and broken hearted,
Saluted father dear, kissed me darling mother,
Drank a pint of beer, me grief and tears to smother,
Then off to reap the corn, leave where I was born,
Cut a stout black thorn to banish ghosts and goblins;
Bought a pair of brogues rattling o'er the bogs
And fright'ning all the dogs on the rocky road to Dublin.
One, two, three four, five, Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky
road and all the way to Dublin, Whack follol de rah !

In Mullingar that night I rested limbs so weary, Started by daylight
next morning blithe and early, Took a drop of pure to keep me heartfrom sinking;
Thats a Paddy's cure whenever he's on drinking. See the lassies smile, laughing
all the while At me curious style, 'twould set your heart a bubblin'
Asked me was I hired, wages I required, I was almost tired of the
rocky road to Dublin.
One, two, three four, five, Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky
road and all the way to Dublin, Whack follol de rah !

In Dublin next arrived, I thought it be a pity
To be soon deprived a view of that fine city.
So then I took a stroll, all among the quality;
Me bundle it was stole, all in a neat locality.
Something crossed me mind, when I looked behind,
No bundle could I find upon me stick a wobblin'
Enquiring for the rogue, they said me Connaught brogue
Wasn't much in vogue on the rocky road to Dublin.
One, two, three four, five, Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky
road and all the way to Dublin, Whack follol de rah !

From there I got away, me spirits never falling,
Landed on the quay, just as the ship was sailing.
The Captain at me roared, said that no room had he;
When I jumped aboard, a cabin found for Paddy.
Down among the pigs, played some hearty rigs,
Danced some hearty jigs, the water round me bubbling;
When off Holyhead wished meself was dead,
Or better for instead on the rocky road to Dublin.
One, two, three four, five, Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky
road and all the way to Dublin, Whack follol de rah !

Well the bouys of Liverpool, when we safely landed,
Called meself a fool, I could no longer stand it.
Blood began to boil, temper I was losing;
Poor old Erin's Isle they began abusing.
"Hurrah me soul" says I, me Shillelagh I let fly.
Some Galway boys were nigh and saw I was a hobble in,
With a load "hurray !" joined in the affray.
We quitely cleared the way for the rocky road to Dublin.
One, two, three four, five, Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky
road and all the way to Dublin, Whack fol all the Ra !

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

The Hills of Connemara

Chorus
Gather up the pots and the old tin cans
The mash, the corn, the barley and the bran.
Run like the devil from the excise man
Keep the smoke from rising, Barney.
Keep your eyes well peeled today
The excise men are on their way
Searching for the mountain tay
In the hills of Connemara.

Swinging to the left, swinging to the right
The excise men will dance all night
Drinkin' up the tay till the broad daylight
In the hills of Connemara.

Chorus

A gallon for the butcher and a quart for John
And a bottle for poor old Father Tom
Just to help the poor old dear along
In the hills of Connemara.

Stand your ground, for it's too late
The excise men are at the gate.
Glory be to Paddy, but they're drinkin' it straight
In the hills of Connemara.

Chorus (Twice)

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

The Wearing of the Green

O Paddy dear, and did ye hear the news that's goin' round?
The shamrock is by law forbid to grow on Irish ground!
No more Saint Patrick's Day we'll keep, his color can't be seen
For there's a cruel law ag'in the Wearin' o' the Green."
I met with Napper Tandy, and he took me by the hand
And he said, "How's poor old Ireland, and how does she stand?"
"She's the most distressful country that ever yet was seen
For they're hanging men and women there for the Wearin' o' the Green."

"So if the color we must wear be England's cruel red
Let it remind us of the blood that Irishmen have shed
And pull the shamrock from your hat, and throw it on the sod
But never fear, 'twill take root there, though underfoot 'tis trod.

When laws can stop the blades of grass from growin' as they grow
And when the leaves in summer-time their color dare not show
Then I will change the color too I wear in my caubeen
But till that day, please God, I'll stick to the Wearin' o' the Green.

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

The Wild Rover

I've been a wild rover for many a year
And I spent all my money on whiskey and beer,
And now I'm returning with gold in great store
And I never will play the wild rover no more.

chorus: And it's no, nay, never,
No nay never no more,
Will I play the wild rover
No never no more.

I went to an ale-house I used to frequent
And I told the landlady my money was spent.
I asked her for credit, she answered me "nay
Such a custom as yours I could have any day."

chorus

I took from my pocket ten sovereigns bright
And the landlady's eyes opened wide with delight.
She said "I have whiskey and wines of the best
And the words that I spoke sure were only in jest."

chorus

I'll go home to my parents, confess what I've done
And I'll ask them to pardon their prodigal son.
And if they caress (forgive) me as ofttimes before
Sure I never will play the wild rover no more.

chorus

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

The Irish Washerwomen

When I was at home I was merry and frisky,
My dad kept a pig and my mother sold whisky,
My uncle was rich, but never would by aisey
Till I was enlisted by Corporal Casey.
Och! rub a dub, row de dow, Corporal Casey,
My dear little Shelah, I thought would run crazy,
When I trudged away with tough Corporal Casey.

I marched from Kilkenny, and, as I was thinking
On Shelah, my heart in my bosom was sinking,
But soon I was forced to look fresh as a daisy,
For fear of a drubbing from Corporal Casey.
Och! rub a dub, row de dow, Corporal Casey!
The devil go with him, I ne'er could be lazy,
He struck my shirts so, ould Corporal Casey.

We went into battle, I took the blows fairly
That fell on my pate, but they bothered me rarely,
And who should the first be that dropped, why, and please ye,
It was my good friend, honest Corporal Casey.
Och! rub a dub, row de dow, Corporal Casey!
Thinks I you are quiet, and I shall be aisey,
So eight years I fought without Corporal Casey.

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

The Jolly Beggar

I am a little beggarman, a begging I have been
For three score years in this little isle of green
I'm known along the Liffey from the Basin to the Zoo
And everybody calls me by the name of Johnny Dhu.
Of all the trades a going, sure the begging is the best
For when a man is tired he can sit him down and rest
He can beg for his dinner, he has nothing else to do
But to slip around the corner with his old rigadoo.

I slept in a barn one night in Currabawn
A shocking wet night it was, but I slept until the dawn
There was holes in the roof and the raindrops coming thru
And the rats and the cats were a playing peek a boo.

Who did I waken but the woman of the house
With her white spotted apron and her calico blouse
She began to frighten and I said boo
Sure, don't be afraid at all, it's only Johnny Dhu.

I met a little girl while a walkin out one day
Good morrow little flaxen haired girl, I did say
Good morrow little beggarman and how do you do
With your rags and your tags and your auld rigadoo.

I'll buy a pair of leggins and a collar and a tie
And a nice young lady I'll go courting by and by
I'll buy a pair of goggles and I'll color them with blue
And an old fashioned lady I will make her too.

So all along the high road with my bag upon my back
Over the fields with my bulging heavy sack
With holes in my shoes and my toes a peeping thru
Singing, skin a ma rink a doodle with my auld rigadoo.

O I must be going to bed for it's getting late at night
The fire is all raked and now tis out of light
For now you've heard the story of my auld rigadoo
So good and God be with you, from auld Johnny Dhu.

Regards,
Eóin.

[Murphy]

I'm all out for now :D!

Regards,
Eóin.

[Amapola]

The Irish Rover

On the Fourth of July, 1806
We set sail from the sweet Cobh of Cork
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the Grand City Hall in New York
'Twas a wonderful craft
She was rigged fore and aft
And oh, how the wild wind drove her
She stood several blasts
She had twenty seven masts
And they called her The Irish Rover

We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags
We had two million barrels of stones
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides'
We had four million barrels of bones
We had five million hogs
six million dogs
Seven million barrels of porter
We had eight million barrels of old nanny goate tails
In the hold of the Irish Rover

There was awl Mickey Coote
Who played hard on his flute
And the ladies lined up for a set
He would tootle with skill
For each sparkling quadrille
Though the dancers were fluther'd and bet
With his smart witty talk
He was cock of the walk
As he rolled the dames under and over
They all knew at a glance
When he took up his stance
That he sailed in The Irish Rover

There was Barney McGee
From the banks of the Lee
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Johnny McGurk
Who was scared stiff of work
And a man from Westmeath called Malone
There was Slugger O'Toole
Who was drunk as a rule
And Fighting Bill Tracy from Dover
And your man, Mick McCann
From the banks of the Bann
Was the skipper of the Irish Rover

For a sailor its' always a bother in life
It's so lonesome by night and by day
That he longs for the shore
and a charming young whore
Who will melt all his troubles away
Oh, the noise and the rout
Swillin' poiteen and stout
For him soon the torment's over
Of the love of a maid he is never afraid
An old salt from the Irish Rover

We had sailed seven years
When the measles broke out
And the ship lost its way in the fog
And that whale of a crew
Was reduced down to two
Just myself and the Captain's old dog
Then the ship struck a rock
Oh Lord! what a shock
The bulkhead was turned right over
Turned nine times around
And the poor old dog was drowned (1,2,3!)
I'm the last of The Irish Rover

[Beorn]

Ah, only an Englishman could have written that song. ;):D

[Amapola]

I love old Irish drinking songs, good use here? :D

Whiskey in the Jar

As I was a goin' over the far famed Kerry mountains
I met with captain Farrell and his money he was counting
I first produced my pistol and I then produced my rapier
Saying "Stand and deliver" for he were a bold deceiver

Chorus:
Mush-a ring dum-a do dum-a da
Wack fall the daddy-o, wack fall the daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar

I counted out his money and it made a pretty penny
I put it in me pocket and I took it home to Jenny
She sighed and she swore that she never would deceive me
But the devil take the women for they never can be easy

(Chorus)

I went up to my chamber, all for to take a slumber
I dreamt of gold and jewels and for sure 't was no wonder
But Jenny blew me charges and she filled them up with water
Then sent for captain Farrell to be ready for the slaughter

(Chorus)

And 't was early in the morning, just before I rose to travel
Up comes a band of footmen and likewise captain Farrell
I first produced me pistol for she stole away me rapier
I couldn't shoot the water, so a prisoner I was taken

(Chorus)

There's some take delight in the carriages a rolling
and others take delight in the hurling and the bowling
but I take delight in the juice of the barley
and courting pretty fair maids in the morning bright and early

(Chorus)

And if anyone can aid me 't is my brother in the army
If I can find his station in Cork or in Killarney
And if he'll go with me, we'll go rovin' through Killkenney
And I'm sure he'll treat me better than my own a-sporting Jenny

[Loyalist]

It's a Long Way to Tipperary

Up to mighty London
Came an Irishman one day
As the streets are paved with gold
Sure, everyone was gay
Singing songs of Piccadilly,
Strand and Leicester Square
Till Paddy got excited
Then he shouted to them there...

It's a long way to Tipperary,
It's a long way to go.
It's a long way to Tipperary
To the sweetest girl I know!
Goodbye Piccadilly,
Farewell Leicester Square!
It's a long long way to Tipperary,
But my heart's right there.

Paddy wrote a letter
To his Irish Molly-O,
Saying, "Should you not receive it
Write and let me know!"
"If I make mistakes in spelling,
Molly dear," said he,
"Remember, it's the pen that's bad,
Don't lay the blame on me!

It's a long way to Tipperary,
It's a long way to go.
It's a long way to Tipperary
To the sweetest girl I know!
Goodbye Piccadilly,
Farewell Leicester Square!
It's a long long way to Tipperary,
But my heart's right there.

Molly wrote a neat reply
To Irish Paddy-O
Saying Mike Maloney
Wants to marry me and so
Leave the Strand and Piccadilly
Or you'll be to blame
For love has fairly drove me silly:
Hoping you're the same!

It's a long way to Tipperary,
It's a long way to go.
It's a long way to Tipperary
To the sweetest girl I know!
Goodbye Piccadilly,
Farewell Leicester Square!
It's a long long way to Tipperary,
But my heart's right there...

[Ariets]

I love old Irish drinking songs, good use here? :D
I love good ol' shanties, Im the dying breed:p

In Polands its known as "Morskie Opowieści" (sea stories).

Drunken Sailor

What do ya do with a drunken sailor?
What do ya do with a drunken sailor?
What do ya do with a drunken sailor?
Earl-eye in the morning?
Way-hey and up she rises,
Way-hey and up she rises,
Way-hey and up she rises,
Earl-eye in the morning...
What do ya do with a drunken sailor?
What do ya do with a drunken sailor?
What do ya do with a drunken sailor?
Earl-eye in the morning?
Put a lobster in his britches
Put a lobster in his britches
Put a lobster in his britches
Earl-eye in the morning
Way-hey and he ain't risin'
Way-hey and he ain't risin'
Way-hey and he ain't risin'
Earl-eye in the mornin
What do ya do with a drunken sailor?
What do ya do with a drunken sailor?
What do ya do with a drunken sailor?
Earl-eye in the mornin?
Shave his balls with a rusty razor
Shave his balls with a rusty razor
Shave his balls with a rusty razor
Earl-eye in the mornin...
What do ya do with a drunken sailor?
What do ya do with a drunken sailor?
What do ya do with a drunken sailor?
Earl-eye in the mornin?
Kick him in the belly 'til he pukes his guts out
Kick him in the belly 'til he pukes his guts out
Kick him in the belly 'til he pukes his guts out
Earl-eye in the mornin...
Then catch it in a bucket and make him drink it
Then catch it in a bucket and make him drink it
Then catch it in a bucket and make him drink it
Earl-eye in the mornin
Way hey and up she rises
Way hey and up she rises
Way hey and up she rises
Earl-eye in the morning...
What do ya do with a drunken pub wench?
What do ya do with a drunken pub wench?
What do ya do with a drunken pub wench?
Earl-eye in the morning?
Throw her in bed with a drunken minstrel
Throw her in bed with a drunken minstrel
Throw her in bed with a drunken minstrel
Earl-eye in the morning...
Way hey and up she rises
Way hey and up she rises
Way hey and up she rises
Earl-eye in the morning... (twice)
And that's what you do with a drunken sailor That's what you do with a drunken sailor That's what you do with a drunken sailor Earl-eye in the morning....

[Bari]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jbrzZWLu6Qw

Awesome Irish drinking song!

[Bari]

There is a serbian group called Orthodox Celts that makes good irish traditional music:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HEt2XdN_TbQ

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDTlQ9xgtGk&feature=related

They are quite famous in the Balkans.

[masty]

hZjdJzHB2Dg

I often wonder where they would have been
If we hadn't have taken them in
Fed them and washed them
Thousands in Glasgow alone
From Ireland they came
Brought us nothing but trouble and shame
Well the famine is over
Why don't they go home?

Now Athenry Mike was a thief
And Large John he was fully briefed
And that wee traitor from Castlemilk
Turned his back on his own
They've all their Papists in Rome
They have U2 and Bono
Well the famine is over
Why don't they go home?

INSTRUMENTAL

Now they raped and fondled their kids
That's what those perverts from the darkside did
And they swept it under the carpet
and Large John he hid
Their evils seeds have been sown
Cause they're not of our own
Well the famine is over
Why don't you go home?

Now Timmy don't take it from me
Cause if you know your history
You've persecuted thousands of people
In Ireland alone
You turned on the lights
Fuelled U boats by night
That's how you repay us
It's time to go home.