The Crankie Island Song Project, by Cathy Jordan (2024)

1.

On the first day of March in the year of ninety-threeThe first recreation was in this countryThe King’s County gentlemen o’er hills, dales and rocksThey rode so joyfully in search of a foxTally-ho, hark away, tally-ho hark awayTally-ho, hark away me boys away, hark awayWhen Reynard was started he faced TullamoreAnd Arklow and Wicklow along the sea shoreWe kept his brush in view every yard of the wayAnd it’s straight he made his course for the street of RosstradeFor Reynard, sly Reynard lay hid there that nightAnd we swore we would watch him until the daylightNext morning early morning, the hills did resoundWith the sweet smell of horses and the sweet cry of houndsWhen Reynard was started he faced to the hollowWhere none but the footmen and hounds they could followThe gentlemen cried “Watch him, watch him, what will he do?If the rocks do not stop him he will cross Killaloe”When Reynard was captured his wishes to fulfillHe sent for pen and paper and ink to write his willAnd what he made mention of, we found it no thankFor he gave us all a cheque on the National Bank.“Oh to you, Mr Casey, I leave my whole estateAnd to you, Mr Johnson, my money and my plateI give to you, Sir Monaghan, my whips, spurs and capFor you jumped ore hedge and ditches and ne’er looked for a gap.”

2.

I’m poor girl born near Dublin City All alone and lonely OThe Landlord on us showed no pityBorn to be a Curragh WrenMy Parents died likewise my brotherAll alone and lonely OAt 14 years I became a motherBorn to be a Curragh WrenDeath or workhouse lay before meAll alone and lonely ohTo the road i took my baby and meBorn to be a Curragh WrenFor miles we trekked through driving weatherAll alone and lonely ohAnd on the Kildare plains we found shelterBorn to be a Curragh WrenChorusBanished out to hollowed quartersGod’s men scorned us from their AltersWho will love the sons and daughtersborn onto this Curragh WrenWith bare hands worn to blood and boneAll alone and lonely ohAmong the furze we made our homeBorn to be a Curragh WrenLike dogs we crouched in damp and squalor All alone and lonely OhCrawling out when the soldiers holleredBorn to be a Curragh WrenAt night they’d come to hunt for bloodAll alone and lonely ohThey stripped and beat us in the mudBorn to be a Curragh WrenAll ye who judge us from your soft bedsAll alone and lonely ohHang in shame your righteous headsBorn to be a Curragh Wrens

3.

What will you have you for dinner nowMy  young darling boy?What  will you have you for dinnerMy comfort and my joy?I had bread, beef and cold poisonMother,  will you dress my bed soon?I have a pain in my heart and I long to lie downWhat will you leave your fatherMy  young darling boy?What will you leave your fatherMy comfort and my joy?I’ll leave him the coach and four horsesMother,  will you dress my bed soon?For I have a pain in my heart and I long to lie downWhat will you leave your motherMy young darling boy?What will you leave your motherMy comfort and my joy?I’ll leave her the keys to my treasureMother, will you dress my bed soon?For I have a pain in my heart and I long to lie downWhat will you leave your childrenMy own Darlin boyWhat will you leave your childrenMy comfort and my joyI’ll let them follow their motherWill you dress my bed soon?For I have a pain in my heart and I long to lie downWhat will you leave your sweetheartMy young darling boy?What will you leave your sweetheartMy comfort and my joy?The long rope for to hang herMother, will you dress my bed soon?For I have a pain in my heart and I long to lie downWhere will you be buried nowMy own young darling boy?Where will you be buriedMy comfort and my joy?I’ll be buried in Kilkenny, where I’ll take a long sleepWith a stone to my head and a scraith to my feet

4.

Come all you handsome comely maids that lives near Carlow dwellingBeware of young men’s flattering tongues with words to you they’re tellingBeware of the kindest words they say be wise and never mind themFor if they were to be talking till they die they’d still leave you behind them.I was scarcely eighteen years of age when I was broken-heartedI was deep in love for seven long years when first my jewel he partedThese maidens wonder why I’m mourn and bid me not to mind himFor he will have more grief than joy for the leaving of you behind him.In Carlow town I was brought up all free from debt or dangersWhen Colonel Reilly listed me to join the Wicklow RangersHe dressed me up in scarlet red and treated me most kindlyBut still I thought my heart would break for the girl I left behind me.Oh me and my comrade both walked out one day for recreationMe and my comrade both walked out to view a pleasant stationMe and my comrade both sat down while fair maids sat beside usAnd we raised a glass and drank a toast to the girls we left behind us.Right angrily these maids arose saying we can stay no longerFor if we're not home by milking time I’m sure there will be anger Sit down my handsome comely maids your cows are all in cloverSit down fair maids and be content for your milking days are over.It's not my love I blame I own all for our separationThat left me wandering far from home to a distant nationBut if ever I get liberty no one shall ever bind meI’ll see my native land once more and the girl I left behind me

5.

Farewell! my country, a long farewell,My bitter anguish no tongue call tell,For I must fly o’er the ocean wideFrom the home I loved by Lough Sheelin’s side.Fond memories come till my heart grows sad,And vengeful thoughts till my brain goes mad,When I think of Ellen, my gentle bride,In the churchyard lone by Lough Sheelin’s side.Ah! proud was I of my girl so tallAnd envied most by the young men allWhen I brought her back my blushing brideTo my cottage home by Lough Sheelin’s side.But oh! our joy was too full to last; The landlord came our young hopes to blast;In vain we pleaded for mercy - no!He turned us out in the blinding snow.And none dare open for us their doorOr else his vengeance would reach them sure;My Ellen fainted - in my arms died -While the snow fell fast on the mountain side.I said one prayer for my lifeless love,And raised my hands to Heaven above“Oh, God of justice” I wildly cried,“Avenge the death of my murdered bride.”We buried her down in the churchyard low,Where in the springtime the daisies blow,I shed no tear for the font was dryOn that woeful night by Lough Sheelin’s side.Farewell! my country; farewell for aye!The ship will soon bear me away,But, oh, my fond heart will still abideBy my Ellen’s grave by Lough Sheelin’s side.

6.

I sat within the valley greenI sat there with my true love.My fond heart strove to choose betweenThe old love and the new love.The old for her the newThat made me think on Ireland dearly.While soft the wind blew down the glenAnd shook the golden barley.T'was hard the mournful words to frameTo break the ties that bound us. yet harder still to bear the shameOf foreign chains around us.And so I said the mountain glenI'll seek at morning early.And join the brave united menWhile soft winds shook the barley. T'was sad I kissed away her tearsher arms around me clinging.When to my ears that fateful shotcame out the wild woods ringing.The bullet pierced my true love's heartIn life's young spring so early.And there upon my breast she diedWhile soft winds shook the barley.I bore her to some mountain stream andAnd many’s the summer blossomI placed with branches soft and green About her gore stained bosomI wept and kissed her clay cold corpse And rushed ore vale and valleyMy vengeance on the foe to reekWhile soft wind shook the barleyAnd blood for blood without remorseI took out oulart hollow.I Placed my true love's clay cold corpseWhere mine full soon may follow.Now round her grave I've wandered drearNoon, night, and morning early.With aching heart when e'er I hearThe wind that shakes the barley.

7.

"Come, piper, play the 'Shaskan Reel,'Or else the 'Lasses on the Heather,'And, Mary, lay aside your wheelUntil we dance once more together.At fair and pattern oft beforeOf reels and jigs we've tripped full many;But ne'er again this loved old floor,Will feel the foot of Donal Kenny."Softly she rose and took his hand,And softly glided through the measure,While, clustering round, the village bandLooked half in sorrow, half in pleasure.Warm blessings flowed from every lipAs ceased the dancers' airy motion:O Blessed Virgin! guide the shipWhich bears bold Donal o'er the ocean!"Now God be with you all," he sighed,Adown his face the bright tears flowing--"God guard you well, a mhic, a ruin”"Upon the strange path you are going."So full his breast he scarce could speak,With burning grasp the stretched hands taking,He pressed a kiss on every cheek,And sobbed as if his heart was breaking."Boys, don't forget me when I'm gone,For sake of all the days passed over--The days you spent on heath and bawn,With Donal Ruadh, the rattlin' rover.Mary, agra, your soft brown eyeHas willed my fate," he whispered lowly;"Another holds thy heart: good-bye!Heaven grant you both its blessings holy!”A kiss upon her brow of snow,A rush across the moonlit meadow,Whose broom-clad hazels, trembling slow,The mossy boreen wrapped in shadow;Away o'er Tully's bounding rill,And far beyond the Inny river;One cheer on Carrick's rocky hill,And Donal Kenny's gone forever.”The breezes whistled through the sails,O'er Galway Bay the ship was heaving,And smothered groans and bursting wailsTold all the grief and pain of leaving.One form among that exiled bandOf parting sorrow gave no token,Still was his breath, and cold his hand;For Donal Kenny's heart was broken

8.

One hundred stars are burning bright above the old Slieve Bloom tonightOne hundred snow white horses in the March of the Kings of LaoisOne hundred years have come and gone, one hundred journeys round the sunOne hundred blazing torches in the March of the Kings of LaoisIn the March of the Kings of LaoisOne hundred snow white horses, one hundred golden bridlesThe silver reins a jingling in the March of the Kings of LaoisSeven royal banners, three times seven pipersOne hundred golden harpers in the March of the Kings of LaoisWhen Rory Mac Rory Óg O’ Moore fell with sword in handA hungry pack of Saxon wolves came howling through the landThe seven tribes of Laoise were scattered to the windBut these settlers they would have no peaceWhile one O' Moore remained in LaoisA shot rang out on an Easter nightA whipcrack volley split the lightArise arise cried Pearse, cried PearseHear Ireland's lonely cryOne hundred stars are burning bright above the old Slieve Bloom tonightOne hundred snow white horses in the March of the Kings of LaoisOne hundred golden bridles, the silver reins a jinglingThe scent of gorse and juniper round the march of the kings of LaoisOne thousand blue cloaked warriors like a wave on the wild blue seaOne thousand loyal heroes in the March of the Kings of LaoisFive hundred men with purpled spears, their shields of red and goldenSpears and helmets glistening by the light of the distant sunFive hundred purpled spearsmen, champion every oneWhat warrior now comes flashing oer the plainIn his chariot of white bronzeOnly Másc the Mighty down from his tower of stone, be afraidHis weapons trembling in his handsHear the shriek of the Morrigan down from Wolfhill, an Bhadhbh, an BhadhbhHear the black howl of the Banshee over the plainThe Nore and the Barrow run red with blood, ochòn is ochón óOne hundred stars are burning bright above the old Slieve Bloom tonightOne hundred snow white horses in the March of the Kings of LaoisThree druids from the mountain, their gray cloaks gathered round themNo-one saw it like I saw it, it's the March of the Kings of LaoisThree times fifty young men in the March of the Kings of LaoisThere is not one among them but is the son of a king and a queenBut is the son of a king and a queenA maiden in her chariot proud and wise and beautifulDrawn by two black horses in the March of the Kings of Laois

9.

As I went down through Dublin City at the hour of 12 at nightWho should I see but the Spanish lady washing her feet by candle lightFirst she washed them then she dried them, over a fire of amber coalsIn all my life I never did see a maid so sweet about the soulsShe had 20, 18, 16, 14, 12, 10, 8, 6, 4, 2 noneShe had 19, 17, 15, 13, 11, 9, 7, 5, 3, and 1As I came back through Dublin City at the hour of half past eightWho should I see but the Spanish lady combing her hair in the broad daylightFirst washed it then she brushed it, I her lap lay a silvery combIn all my life I near did see a maid so sweet as I did roamShe had 20, 18, 16, 14, 12, 10, 8, 6, 4, 2 noneShe had 19, 17, 15, 13, 11, 9, 7, 5, 3, and 1As I came back through dublin city, just as the sun was about to setWho should I see but the Spanish lady catching a moth in a golden netWhen she saw me then she fled me lifting her petticoats ore her kneeIn all my life I nare did see a maid so shy as this ladyShe had 20, 18, 16, 14, 12, 10, 8, 6, 4, 2 noneShe had 19, 17, 15, 13, 11, 9, 7, 5, 3, and 1Round and round goes the wheel of fortune, where it rests now wearies me, fair maid they are so deceiving sad experience teaches meOld age has laid her hand upon me, cold as a fire of ashy coalsWhere is the lovely Spanish lady so mortal neat as I did roamShe had 20, 18, 16, 14, 12, 10, 8, 6, 4, 2 noneShe had 19, 17, 15, 13, 11, 9, 7, 5, 3, and 1

10.

For the sake of health I took a walk last week at early dawn.I met a jolly turfman as I slowly jogged along.The kindest salutations passed 'twixt him and me.And it's soon I got acquainted with the Turfman from Ardee.We chatted very freely as we jogged along the road.He says, “My ass is tired, and I want to sell my load,For I've got no refreshment since I left my home you seeI am wearied out with traveling,” says the Turfman from Ardee.“Your cart is racked and worn friend, your ass is very old,It must be twenty summers since that animal was foaled.”“He was yoked and trapped when I was born, September, '83,And he cantered for the midwife, says the Turfman from Ardee.“I own my cart, it must be made of the very best of wood,I do believe it was in use at the time of Noah's flood.The axle never wanted grease but one year out of three-It's a real old Carrick axle,” says the Turfman from Ardee.“I often do abuse the beast with this rough hazel rod,.Although I own I never yet did drive poor Jack unshod.The harness now that's on his back was made by John Magee,Who's dead this two and forty years,” says the Turfman from Ardee.We talked about our country's woes and how we were oppressed,The men we sent to Parliament to get out wrongs redressed,“Sure, all these politicians are nothing else I seeBut led by bloomin' humbug ” says the Turfman from Ardee.Just then I heard a female voice that I knew very well,Politely asking this old man his load of turf to sell.I shook that boney hand of his and bowed respectfully,In hopes to meet some future day the Turfman from Ardee.

11.

There is not in this wide world a valley so sweetAs the vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet,Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must departEre the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.Yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the sceneHer purest of crystal and brightest of green'Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hillOh! no, it was something more exquisite still.Oh! no, it was something more exquisite still'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom were nearWho made every dear scene of enchantment more dearAnd who felt how the best charms of nature improveWhen we see them reflected from looks that we love.When we see them reflected from looks that we love.Sweet Vale of Avoca! how calm I could rest,In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love bestWhere the storms that we feel in this cold world should ceaseAnd our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace.And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace.

12.

Oh, as I went a-walking one morning in MayI met Sergeant Johnston along the highway.Says the sergeant to Pat Reilly, – You are a clever young man,Will you go to John Kelly’s where we’ll have a dram?Then as we sat smoking and drinking our dramSays the sergeant to Pat Reilly, – you are a handsome young man,Oh, would you list, take the shilling, and come away with meTo the sweet county Longford, strange faces you’ll see.Oh, I took the shilling and the reckoning was paid,The ribbons were bought and we hoist the cockade.Oh, but early next morning sure we all had to standUp before our grand general with our hats in our hand.He says to Pat Reilly, – You are a shade rather low,Unto some other regiment I’m afraid you must go.Oh, I took the shilling and the reckoning was paid,The ribbons were bought and we hoist the cockade.– Oh, let me go where I will, sure I’ve no one to mournFor my mother she is dead and will never return.My father got married and fetched a stepmother home,She fairly denies me and does me disown.Oh, I took the shilling and the reckoning was paid,The ribbons were bought and we hoist the cockade.Oh, had my father been honest man and learnt me my tradeI never would have listed nor hoist the cockade.It's not in the morning that I sing my song it's in the cold evening as I march aloneWith my gun ore my shoulder I bitterly do weepWhen I think of my true love who now lies asleepOh, I took the shilling and the reckoning was paid,The ribbons were bought and we hoist the cockade.

13.

Oh 'tis I would be in Árd Tí CuainWhere the mountains stands awayAnd 'tis I would let the Sunday goIn a cuckoo's glen above the bayAgus, och och Éire lig is oÉire lionndubh agus oAh, the quiet land of ÉrinOh my heart is weary all aloneAnd it sends a lonely cryTo the land that sings beyond my dreamsAnd the lonely Sundays pass me byBut the grave is waiting for us allThe world must heed its allIt steals the mother from her broodAnd it stole away my childhoodI would travel back the twisted yearsThrough the bitter wasted windIf the God above would let me lieIn a quiet place above the wind

14.

Come all you loyal heroes wherever you may beDon't toil with any master 'till you know what your work will beFor you must rise up early from the clear daylight till the dawnAnd you never will be able for to plough the rocks of BawnMy shoes they are well worn, my socks are wearing thinAnd my heart is always trembling for fear they might give inMy heart is always trembling from the clear daylight till the dawnFor fear I wont be able to plough the rocks of BawnMy curse upon you Sweeney you have me nearly robbedYou're sitting by the fireside with you doogeen in your gobYou're sitting by the fireside from the clear daylight 'till the dawnAnd you never will be able now to plough the rocks of BawnRise up gallant Sweeney and get your horses hayAnd give them a good feed of oats before they start the dayDon't feed him on soft turnip put him out on yon green lawnOr he never will be able for to plough the rocks of BawnI wish the Queen of England would send for me in timeAnd place me in some regiment all in my youth of primeI'd fight for Ireland's glory from the clear daylight 'till the dawnAnd I would never return again to plough the rocks of Bawn

15.

If I had the wings of a swallow I would travel far over the seaAnd a rocky old road I would follow to a spot that is heaven to meWhen the sun goes to rest way down in the westThen I'll build such a nest in the place I love bestIn that dear little town in the old County DownIt will linger way down in my heartTho it never was grand it is my fairy land Just a wonderful world set apartO my island of dreams you are with me it seemsAnd I care not for fame or renownLike the black sheep of old I'll return to the foldLittle town in the old County Down.In the evening when shadows are falling'Round the old door without any keyThere's a voice in my dreams ever callingAnd loving eyes watching for meThere is someone I bless with true tendernessAnd her lips I'll caress when I bring happinessIn that dear little town in the old County DownIt will linger way down in my heartTho it never was grand it is my fairy land Just a wonderful world set apartO my island of dreams you are with me it seemsAnd I care not for fame or renownLike the black sheep of old I'll return to the foldLittle town in the old County Down.

16.

Good luck to all here, now, barrin' the cat,that sits in the corner smellin' a rat.Boys, wheest your philanderin' now and behave,and savin' your favors I'll chant you a stave.I come from a land where the praties grow big,and the boys nice and handy can whirl in a jig,and the girls they would charm your heart for to see,the darlin' colleens around Tanderagee.So here's to the boys that's so happy and gay,Singin' and dancin' and tearin' away,Rollicksome, frolicsome, frisky and free,We're the rollicking boys around Tanderagee.No doubt you have heard of Killarney, I'm sure,and sweet Inishowen for a drop of the pure.Dublin's a place for the strawberry beds,and Donnybrook fair for the breakin' of heads.Did you ever see an Irishman dancin' paltogue,as he faced up his partner and turned up his brogue.He twisted the buckle and bent at the knee,oh, they're wonderful dancers in Tanderagee.Now, show me the man either Christian or Turk,who could equal our brave Robbert Emmett or Burke,and show me the speaker could speak up like Dan,ach, divil another bad luck to the one,Oh show me the singer could sing like Tom Moore,his melodies charmed all care from our door,But we'll beat them all yet, and that you will see,for we're rare and fine boys around Tanderagee.His old jauntin' car was the elegant joult,and Derry's the place that is famed for her hoult,Among the green bushes that grow in Tyrone,and the County Fermanagh for muscle and bone.For courtin' and blarney and fun at the fair,there's no-one can equal the rakes of Kildare.Green Erin my country's the gem of the sea,but the gem of green Erin is Tanderagee.

17.

I know a wee spot it’s a place of great fameit lies to the north now I’ll tell you its nameIt’s my own native birthplace and it’ lies on Irish soilAnd they call it lovely Derry on the banks of the Foyle.I courted a wee girl her age was nineteenShe was the fairest young lady that I’d ever seenHer cheeks were like roses and her hair waved in coilAnd she came from lovely Derry on the banks of the Foyle.But then cruel misfortune drove me from my home‘Twas my fate in deep sorrow to sail o’er the foamAnd now from dark strangers in grief I recoilWhile I pine for lovely Derry on the banks of the Foyle.I was fearing that another had a place in her heartAnd that from my darlin forever I would partAnd no more would she brighten with her sweet sunny smileMy home in lovely Derry on the banks of the Foyle.But a wee bird came flying from over the seaAnd he brought me a letter from my true love to seeSaying ‘Come home my darling to your native soilAnd I’ll wed you in lovely Derry on the banks of the Foyle.’Now when I make a fortune it’s back home I will goTo the dear land of my boyhood to the sweet girl I knowI will build her a mansion and no more need we toilFar away from lovely Derry on the banks of the Foyle.

18.

Fill, pill a rún óFill a rún ó is ná himigh uaimFill orm a chuisle 's a stórAgus chífidh tú 'n ghlóir má fhilleann túShúil mise thall is abhusI Móta Ghráinn' Óige do rugadh mé'S ní fhaca aon iontas go fóillMar an Sagart Ó Donaill 'na mhinistirDhiúltaigh tú Peadar is PólMar gheall ar an ór 's ar an airgeadDhiúltaigh tú Banríon na GlóireAgus d'iompaigh tú gcóta 'n mhinistirChorus (after each verse):Turn, turn, my dearTurn, my dear and don't go nowTurn, my own heart's dearAnd you will see God's glory if you turn againI have traveled far and wideThroughout Moate where I was bornAnd I have never yet seen such a wonderAs Father O'Donaill turned MinisterYou denied Peter and PaulBecause of the gold and the silverYou denied the Queen of Glory

19.

As I was walkin' one morning all in the month of May To view all your mountains and valleys so gay, I was thinking on the flowers all going to decay That bloom around ye, bonny, bonny Slieve Gallion Braes. Full of times I have wandered with my dog and my gun, I'd ramble these mountains and your valleys for fun, But those days they now all over and I can no longer stay So farewell unto you bonny, bonny, Slieve Gallion Braes. How oft in the evening with the sun all in the west I walked hand in hand with the one I love best But the hopes of youth are ended and I am far away So farewell unto you bonny bonny Slieve Gallion Braes'tis not for the want of employment at homeThat causes the son of ould Ireland to roam, But the rates were gettin' higher and I could no longer stay So farewell unto you bonny, bonny, Slieve Gallion Braes. Our isle it will be green and our cottages be gay Our children will be clothed and our wives will drink strong tea Oh you tyrannizing landlords - I will no longer stay So farewell unto to you bonny bonny Slieve Gallion Braes

20.

One evening for pleasure I rambledTo view the fair fields all aloneDown by the banks of Loch ErinWhere beauty and pleasure were knownI spied a fair maid at her laborWhich caused me to stay for a whileI thought her the Goddess of BeautyThe blooming bright star of Belle IsleI humbled myself to her beauty"Fair maiden, where do you belong?Are you from the heavens descendedAbiding in Cupid's fair throng?""Young man, I will tell you a secretIt's true I'm a maid who is poorAnd to part from my vows and my promiseIs more than my heart can endureTherefore I'll remain at my serviceAnd go through all hardship and toilAnd wait for the lad that has left meAlone on the banks of Belle Isle""Young maiden I wish not to banterTis true I came here in disguiseI came to fulfill my last promiseAnd hoped to give you a surpriseI own you're the maid I love dearlyYou've been in my heart all the whileFor me there is no other damselThan the blooming bright star of Belle IsleMay the great god in heaven protect themAnd loyalty be there's all the whileAnd soft honey will sweeten the comforts Of the blooming bright star of Belle Isle

21.

Come all you young rebels and list while I singFor love of one's country is a terrible thingIt banishes fear with the speed of a flameAnd makes us all part of the patriot's gameMy name is O'Hanlon, I've just gone sixteenMy home is in Monaghan and where I was weanedI've learned all my life cruel England’ to blameSo now I am part of the patriot gameIt's barely a year since I wandered awayWith a local battalion of the bold IRAI've read of our heroes, I've wanted the sameto play up my part in the patriot's gameThey told me how Connolly was shot in a chairHis wounds from the battle all bloody and bareHis fine body twisted, all tattered and lameThey soon made him part of the patriot's gameThis Ireland of ours has for long been half freeSix counties are under John Bull's tyrannySo I gave up my boyhood to drill and to trainTo play my own part in the patriot gameNow as I lie here my body all holesI think of those traitors who bargained and soldI wish that my rifle had given the sameFor those Quislings who sold out the patriot game

22.

One day as I went to my ramblesfrom Swinford to sweet BallyleaI met with a maid as I rambledand her name it was Mary Magee.Well, she sighed for the rights of old Ireland:Michael Davitt, my brave Irish boy,He is now in a prison in Portland,Far from the lovely sweet banks of the Moy.I quickly approached this fair maiden,asked her the cause of her woeand what was the cause of her miserythat forced her from home to roam.Well, she sighed, for the rights of old IrelandMichael Davitt, my brave Irish boy,He is now in a prison in Portland,Far from the lovely sweet banks of the Moy.Don't speak of your sweet '67,We had brave men and true men you knowThere was young Peter Carney, God rest him,He died in Killarney, also.He was trailed by the brave, Michael Davitt,'round the valleys and plains of Fermoy.And that's why he's in prison in Portland,Far from the lovely sweet banks of the Moy.So now to conclude and to finishI hope that the day soon will come when those cruel landlords and bailiffsFrom the isle of St. Patrick must run.We will unfurl our green and gold bannerAnd we’ll raise them for Ireland on high,Then we will drink to our brave Michael Davittfrom the lovely sweet banks of the Moy.

23.

Eileen Óg oh that the darlin's name isThrough the Barony her features they were famousIf we all loved her who was there to blame usFor wasn't she the Pride of Petravore?But her beauty made us all so shyNot a man among us could look her in the eyeBoys, oh boys, sure that's the reason whyWe're in mourning' for the Pride of PetravoreEileen Óg my heart is growin' grayEver since the day you wandered far awayEileen Óg, there's good fish in the seaBut there's none of them like the Pride of PetravoreFriday at the fair in BallintubberEileen met McGrath the cattle jobberI’d like to set my mark upon the robberFor he stole away the Pride of PetravoreHe never seemed to see the girl at allEven when she ogled him from underneath her shawlLookin' big and masterful while she was lookin' smallMost provoking' for the Pride of PetravoreSo it went as was in the beginningEileen Óg was bent upon the winningBig McGrath contentedly was grinningBeing courted by the Pride of PetravoreSays he: “I know a girl that could knock you into fits”At that Eileen nearly lost her witsThe upshot of the ruction is that now the robber sitsWith his arm around the Pride of PetravoreBoys, oh boys, with fate it's hard to grappleOf my eyes Eileen was the appleNow I see her walkin' to the chapelWith the hardest featured man in PetravoreAh now, boys, this is all I have to say:When you do your courtin' make no displayIf you want them to run after you, just walk the other wayFor they're mostly like the Pride of Petravore

24.

My youthful days are past and it makes my heart feel weary,As I sit in the cart in the wilds of the prairie,Hunting the deer that skip around the beaver,While my thoughts fondly stray to the Bogs of Shanaheever. By the cold light of the moon won’t you tell them to be ready.Tell them to prepare and to bring on Master Freddy.Tell them to be quick and tell them to be very clever,For it’s my last day of coursing on the Bogs of Shanaheever. From the shores of Lough Oonagh to the Plains of Glenrikken,Beneath a red sun my poor old heart is ticking.We made straight for Letterdean, but the land it didn’t favor,So we crossed over the mountains for the Bogs Of Shanaheever. They have boasted in London of the trials of O’Donnel.And young Willie Ayres praised the fortunes of Diana.But the truth to you I’ll tell, that Diana was the favorite.But Victor took the sway on the Bogs of Shanaheever. On the day that Victor died, my coursing days were over,And I sat down and cried like a broken-hearted lover.I put Victor in his grave and I left him there forever,And booked passage to New York from the Bogs of Shanaheever. So it’s fare-you-well dear Ireland, and fare-you-well forever.There is nowhere in the world I will look on with such favor.And if ever I return I’ll come back again and see her,And I’ll spend my days at coursing on the Bogs of Shanaheever.

25.

This young man’s name was Pat O’Brien a carpenter by tradeBoth day and night he took delight in courting this fair maidShe was young and innocent and always to the fore,But little was her notion that he’d prove her overthrow.She wrote to him a letter and an answer to it came Saying ‘Nancy, lovely Nancy, I hope you’ll not me blameFor I’ve been working all this time and could not see you o’erBut I hope to have your company this evening at the grove’.When she read those few lines they enticed her for to goShe dressed herself in private, I mean you for to knowThe night was bright with the moonlight which caused her for to goBut little was her notion, she’d never come back homeWhen he saw her coming, it was then he went to hideThe words he said unto himself, ‘You’ll never be my brideFor I have heard for certain that you have me deceivedAnd this very night I’ll take your life, a butcher I will be’.It was then he stepped up to her and then his color changed.She said ‘Patsy, lovely Patsy, what makes you look so pale?’I want no talk at all from you, just kneel down there and prayFor there’s not a woman breathing will ever deceive me.He caught her by the yellow lock and drew her to the ground.;Twas with a knife he stabbed her oh, and gave her a deadly woundHer last dying words ‘Pat O’Brien you do not feel my pain.And twas with a spade he dug her grave and then dashed out her brains.This girl was 3 days buried to her mother she did appear,The mother spoke to her without any dread or fearShe says ‘mother loving mother you’ll never see me moreFor Pat O’Brien has murdered me and laid me in my gore‘Go down to that old grove be sure make no delay,There you’ll find my body buried, and covered with the clayYou’ll find the blood spilled on the spot, the place he murdered me.Go down and get him taken and hung he’ll surely be.The night before his trial came on to him she did appearWith her baby in her arms, oh which filled her heart with fear.She said “often times you told me that I would be your brideOn the gallows high you now will die for taking away my life.

26.

An dtiocfá liom go Contae LiatromaDúirt plúirín1 na mban donn ógThabharfainn bia agus lón gach oíche duitDeir plúirín na mban donn ógMíle céad a b’fhearr liom bheith ariamh gan fearNá a bheith ag siúl an drúchta is na bhfásach leatMar gur thug mo chroí dhuit grá is gean2Dúirt plúirín na mban donn óg.Ní thiocfaidh mé leat, is níl aon mhaith dhuit a bheith m’ iarraidhDúirt plúirín na mban donn ógNí choinneodh do bhriathra beo gan bia méDúirt plúirín na mban donn ógB’fhearr liom féin bheith ariamh gan fearNá a bheith ag siúl an drúchta is na bhfásach leatMar thug mo chroí dhuit grá is geanDúirt plúirín na mban donn óg.Translation‘Would you come with me to County Leitrim?’Said the flower of young brown-haired women.‘I would you give you food and a meal every night,’Says the flower of young brown-haired women.‘I would a thousand times rather be without a man foreverThan to be walking through the dew and the wilderness with you;For my heart gave you love and affection,’Said the flower of young brown-haired women.‘I won’t come with you, and it’s no good your asking me,’ ‑Said the flower of young brown-haired women.‘Your words won’t keep me alive without food,’Said the flower of young brown-haired women.‘I’d rather be without a man foreverThan to be walking through the dew and the wilderness with you;For my heart gave you love and affection,’Said the flower of young brown-haired women. Munster

27.

Pat Molloy was an Irish boy, he left sweet County ClareSays he, ‘I’ll go to London to see the wonders thereSure I’ve often heard that London was a very pretty placeSo bedad says he, I’ll go and see it that’s the blooming caseWhen Pat arrived in London, he was taken by surpriseFor the sights of that great city fairly dazzled Paddy’s eyesOne day while going down the street meditating to himselfHe met a ragged Cockney with a donkey, selling delphThis damed old ragged cockney wouldn’t let poor Paddy passSaying ‘Come and speak to your brother’ while he pointed to the ass‘Well bedad’ says Pat ‘I never knew that I had a brother here’And turned round he whispered something into the ass’s earWhen Pat was speaking to ass, now boys what did he do?He dropped a pebble in his ear, he did bedad ’tis trueThe ass went mad, upset the cart, smashed all the earthenwareAnd the damned old ragged Cockney, he went crazy clear and claneNow he called upon the peeler for to take poor Pat in chargeSaying ‘Seize this Irish vagabond, for he shouldn’t be at large’‘Begone you English spailpín’ cries Paddy with a smile‘For you took me to be an ass because I come from Erin’s Isle’Thats nonsense cried the magistrate, you know the ass went madI do indeed said paddy and I’m sorry to bedadBe careful cried the Magistrate I’ll have no nonsense hereBut come and tell me every word you whispered in his ear‘Well indeed I will’ says Paddy, ‘that request I can’t refuseFor I’d often heard that donkeys, they were very fond of newsI thought I might say something this ‘oul donkey’s heart to cheerAnd now I’ll tell you every word that I whispered in his ear’‘Well, I told the ass’ says Paddy, ‘that we had our wrongs redressedThat noble wealthy Irishmen were no longer oppressedWe got rid of all the landlords, Ireland to ourselves we hadAnd when the donkey heard the news, be Jesus he went mad’The magistrate, from laughing well he had to creep his headWhen he looked at poor Ould Paddy and he thought of what he saidAnd turning round to Paddy ‘what a clever rogue you areAnd for your clever answer, I’ll dismiss you from the bar’

28.

I am a young fellow who has always loved rural sport-The fairs and the patterns of Erin I used to resort,-The true sons of Bacchus were always in my company,-Till I was deprived of my deartháirín ó mo chroí.-The womb's turned to earth that gave birth to my brother and me,-My father and mother have gone to eternity,-We worked at our trade and our money we spent it quite free,-Which makes me lament for my deartháirín ó mo chroí.When we were children we did each other adore,-This lovely green island we wandered it o'er and o'er,-My brother was taken and sent o'er the dark rolling sea,-And I am left lonely for deartháirín ó mo chroí.In Dublin's fair city my brother he was pressed away-On board of a warship to Spain o'er the wild rolling sea.-Where cannons roar loudly and bullets like lightning do fly,-Perhaps in some battle my deartháirín ó might die.He was sent to the wars for to fight against Boney and France,-His regiment was first in the red battle ranks to advance,-But when night cast it's gloom on that gory and life wasting lea,-Pale, bleeding and cold lay my deartháirín ó mo chroí.If heaven would aid me and send me to Spain where he be,-My life I would venture to set him at liberty,-Like a true loyal brother I would fight for him manfully,-Or I'd die in the arms of my deartháirín ó mo chroí.-But now I'm alone like the desolate bird of the night,-The world and it's beauties no longer afford me delight,The dark narrow grave is the only sad refuge for me,-Since I lost my heart's treasure my deartháirín ó mo chroí

29.

Johnny Carey loved a beauty a lively cutie Molly O’LearyBut her father won’t agree his daughter to give to Johnny CearyAway we’ll run away for the fun for my father is too contraire Won’t you follow me, won’t you follow me,Faith I will said Johnny CareyRy di diddle doh, di outtle doddle dohdiddrey outtle di dittle die do diddle doRy di diddle doh, di outtle doddle dohdiddrey outtle di dittle die do diddle doMolly’s father died one day they say twas not from drinking waterThe house the cash the land they say, was left by will to Molly’s daughterThe house the cash the land also, away we’ll run so meet and cheersWon’t you follow me won’t you follow meFaith I will said Johnny CareyRy di diddle doh, di outtle doddle dohdiddrey outtle di dittle die do diddle doRy di diddle doh, di outtle doddle dohdiddrey outtle di dittle die do diddle doMolly herself was taken bad the fever worse each day was growingJohnny dear tis awful sad to the other world I think I’m goingYou won’t survive my loss you know, no longer remain in TipperaryWon’t you follow me won’t you follow meFaith I WILL NOT said Johnny CareyRy di diddle doh, di outtle doddle dohdiddrey outtle di dittle die do diddle doRy di diddle doh, di outtle doddle dohdiddrey outtle di dittle die do diddle do

30.

Come on boys and you'll seeLads and lassies full of gleeFamous for all they will make your heart thrillThe boys they will not harm youThe girls they will all charm you'Here's up 'em all!' says the boys of Fair HillCome on boys and spend a dayWith our harrier club so gayThe cry of the hounds it will make your heart thrillWhen you hear Quinton say'Challenger has won the day''Here's up 'em all!' says the boys of Fair HillCome on boys and spend the dayWith our bowling club so gayThe loft of the ball it will make your heart thrillWhen you hear the Shea boy say'Jimmy Delaney's won thе day''Here's up 'em all!' says thе boys of Fair HillCome on up to Fahy's wellFor a pint of pure spring waterThe grandest place of all, sure the angels do singThousands come from o'er the foamJust to kiss that blarney stoneThat can be viewed from the groves of Fair HillCome on down to Quinlan's pubThat is where you join our clubRound us in gallons the porter does flowFirst we tap to half a terseDrink a health to Dashwodd's race'That's the stuff to give them!' says the boys of Fair Hill

31.

It was early one morning' young Willie roseAnd off to his comrade's bedchamber did goSayin', "Arise dearest comrades! Let nobody know""It's a fine summer's morning' to the lakes let us go”Well, Willie plunged in and he swam to lay ground'Till he came to an island of soft marshy groundCrying, "Comrades dearest comrades, do not venture inFor there's false and deep waters in the Lakes of CoolfinWell, early next morning Willie's sister aroseAnd onto her mother's bedchamber did goSayin', "I had a sad dream 'bout Willie last nightHe was clad in a shroud, In a shroud of snow white”Well, later that evening Willie's mother stood thereShe was ringing her fingers and tearing her hairSaying woe to the hour young Willie plunged inFor there's false and deep waters in the Lakes of CoolfinWell, I saw a fair maid standing fast by the shoreHer face it was sad she was crying for sureSinging woe to the hour young Willie plunged inFor there's false and deep waters in the Lakes of Coolfin

32.

Bog braon, bog braon, bog braon don seanduine,Bog braon, is blais féin, is é a thabhairt don seanduine.Cuir a chodhladh, cuir a chodhladh, cuir a chodhladh an seanduine,Cuir a chodhladh, is nigh a chosa , bog braon don seanduine.Ubh circe, ubh circe, ubh circe don seanduine,Ubh circe, is blúirín ime, is é a thabhairt don seanduine.Cuir a chodhladh, cuir a chodhladh, cuir a chodhladh an seanduine,Cuir a chodhladh, is nigh a chosa , bog braon don seanduine.Feoil úr, feol úr, feol úr don seanduine,Feoil úr, is braon súip, is é a thabhairt don seanduine.Cuir a chodhladh, cuir a chodhladh, cuir a chodhladh an seanduine,Cuir a chodhladh, is nigh a chosa , bog braon don seanduine.Bog braon, bog braon, bog braon don seanduine,Bog braon, is blais féin, is é a thabhairt don seanduine. TranslationMove a drop, move a drop, move a drop for the old oneMove a drop, taste it yourself and give it to the old oneChorusPut to sleep put to sleep put to sleep the old onePut to sleep and wash his feet and move a drop for the old oneA hen’s egg a hen’s egg hen’s egg for the old oneA hen’s egg and a little dab of butter and give it to the old oneChorusFresh meat fresh meat fresh meat for the old oneFresh meat and a drop of soup and give it to the old oneChorusMove a drop move a drop move a drop for the old oneMove a drop taste it yourself and give it to the old one