http://www.cantalibre.de/ Thu, 09 Sep 2010 02:21:36 +0100 FeedCreator 1.7.3 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=497:the-wild-rover&catid=93:irland&directory=55 I've been a wild rovr for many a year
And I've spent all my money on whiskey and beer
But now I'm returning with gold in great store
And I never will play the wild rover no more

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

I brought up from me poket ten sovereigns bright
And the landlady's eyes opened wide with delight
She said "I have whiskeys and wines of the best
And the words that I you told me were only in jest"

And it's no...

I'll go home to my parents, confess what I've done
And I'll ask them to pardon their prodigal son
And when they've caressed me as oft times before
I never will play the wild rover no more

And it's no...



traditional]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:50:07 +0100 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=496:wearing-of-the-green&catid=93:irland&directory=55
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."

chorus:
Oh, the wearing o' the green,
The wearin o' the green.
Oh, the wearing o' the green ,
The wearing o' the green.
Well, there's a cruel law ag'in
The wearing o' the green.

I met with Napper Tandy,
And he took me by the hand,
And he said, How's poor ould 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."


chorus:
Oh, the wearing...
...They're hangin men and women there ,
For the wearing 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.

chorus:
Oh, the wearing...
...Till that day, please God,
I'll stick to the Wearin' o' the Green.

]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:49:45 +0100 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=494:the-waxies-dargle&catid=93:irland&directory=55
Says my aul' wan to your aul' wan:
'Will yeh come to the waxies dargle?'
Says your aul' wan to my aul' wan:
'Sure I haven't got a farthing
I've just been down to Monto town
To see uncle Mc Ardle
But he wouldn't lend me half a crown
For to go to the Waxies dargle.

(chorus)
What are you having, will you have a pint
Yes, I'll have a pint with you sir
And if one of ya doesn't order soon
We'll be thrown out of the boozer

Says my aul' wan to your aul' wan:
"Will you come to the Galway Races"
Says your aul' wan to my aul' wan
"With the price of my aul' lad's braces"
I went down to Capel Street
To the Jew man moneylenders
But they wouldn't give me a couple of bob on
My aul' lad's suspenders.

What are you having...

Says my aul' wan to your aul' wan
"We have no beef or mutton
But if we go down to Monto town
We might get a drink for nuttin'
Here's a piece of advice
I got from an aul' fishmonger
When food is scarce and you see the hearse
You'll know you have died of hunger.

What are you having...
]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:49:14 +0100 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=491:black-velvet-band&catid=93:irland&directory=55
Her eyes they shone like diamonds
You'd think she was queen of the land,
With her hair flung over her shoulders,
Tied up with a black velvet band.

As I went walking down Broadway,
Not intending to stay very long,
I met with a frolick young damsel,
As she came tripping along.

Her eyes....

A watch she took out of her pocket,
And slipped it right into my hand,
On the very first day that I met her,
Bad luck to her black velvet band.

Her eyes....

Before judge and jury next morning,
Both of us did appear,
A gentleman claimed his jewellery,
And the case against us was clear.

Her eyes...

Seven long years transportation,
Right on down to Van Dieman's Land,
Far away from my friends and companions,
Betrayed by the black velvet band.

Her eyes...


traditional]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:47:48 +0100 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=490:thios-cois-na-tra-dom&catid=93:irland&directory=55
Ag siúl cois na trá dom i ndoimhneacht na hoíche
An saol mór na gcodladh agus mise liom féin,
Na héanacha maraag scairtigh go léanmhar,
Cosúil le hanamnacha bochta i bpéin.

Thíos fán chladach tá na bádaí ar feistiú,
Ar snámh mar bheadh ealaí ar bharr na dtonn
An t-uiscee ag slioparnaigh thart fána dtaobhann'
'S iad ag bogadh sa chiúnas anall a's anonn.

Iomlán gealaí agus iomlán rabhartu,
Toibhneas a's ciúnas a's áilleacht sa domhan,
Crónán na farraige 'dul siar i mo chluasa
A's bogcheol an uisce ag sileadh san abhainn

Istigh ar na hinseáin tá seanreilig bheannaithe,
An áit ar mhair naoimh insan aimsir fadó,
Tá daoine istigh ann a chaith seal go haerach
Ach ní shiúlfaidh siad thart fá na cladaigh níos mó.

Bhuail uaigeas n' intinn 's mé ag amharc aran reilig,
Mé ag meabhrú ar dhaoine a bhí istigh ina luí,
Fir a's mná óga, seandaoine a's páistí,
Muintir mo mhuintir agus cairde mo chroí.

Tá na coiligh ag glaoch 's tá na réalla a' bánú,
Tá an ghealach ina luí agus ní fada go lá
Slán agat anois a sheanreilig bheannaithe
Agus ag na daoine a shiúladh liom thart cois na trá.]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:47:31 +0100 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=489:a-bunch-of-thyme&catid=93:irland&directory=55
Come all you maidens young and fair
All you that are blooming in your prime
And always beware to keep your garden fair
Let no man steal away your thyme

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

Once I had 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

Come all you maidens.....

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

Come all you maidens...



traditional



I like the way Christy Moore sings this song. Have you ever heard it?]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:47:11 +0100 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=487:the-streets-of-new-york&catid=93:irland&directory=55
I was eighteen years old, when I went down to Dublin
With a fistful of money and a cartload of dreams.
"Take your time," said me father, "stop rushing like hell,
And remember all is not what it seems to be.
For there's fellows would cut you for the coat on your back.
Or the watch that you got from your mother.
So take care me young bucko and mind yourself well
And will you give this wee note to me brother.

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

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

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

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

I sold up the old farmyard for what it was worth,
And into my bag stuck a handful of earth,
Then I boarded a train and I cought me a plane,
And I found myself back in the U.S. again.
It's been twenty-two years since I set foot in Dublin,
The kids know to use the correct knife and fork,
But I'll never forget the green grass and the rivers,
As I keep law and order in the streets of New York.
]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:46:29 +0100 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=486:stewball&catid=93:irland&directory=55
Stewball was a good horse,
He wore a high head
And the mane on his foretop
Was fine as silt thread

I rode him in england
I rode him in Spain
And I never did lose, boys
I always did gain

So come all you gamblers
Whereever you are
And don't bet your money
On that little grey mare

Most likely she'll stumble
Most likely she'll fall
But you never will lose, boys
On my noble Stewball

As they were a-riding
'bout halfway round
That grey mare she stumbled
And fell on the ground

And 'way out yonder
Ahead of them all
Came a-prancing and a-dancing
My noble Stewball

Stewball was a race horse
And by the day he was mine
He never drank water
He always drank wine



traditional



]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:46:09 +0100 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=485:the-spinning-wheel&catid=93:irland&directory=55
Mellow the moonlight to shine is beginning
Close by the window young Eileen is spinning
Bent o'er the fire her blind grandmother sitting
Crooning and moaning and drowsily knitting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:45:14 +0100 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=484:the-spanish-lady&catid=93:irland&directory=55
As I came down through Dublin city
At the hour of twelve at night
Who should I see but a Spanish lady
Washing her feet by candle light
First she washed them, then she dried them
Over a fire of ashy coal
In all my life I ne'er did see
A maid so sweet about the sole

Whack fol the tura lura ladie
Whack fol the tura lura lay
Whack fol the tura lura ladie
Whack fo  the tura lura lay

As I came back through Dublin city
At the hour of half past eight
Who should I spy but the Spanish lady
Brushing her hair in the broad daylight
First she tossed it, then she brushed it
On her lap was a silver comb
In all my life I ne'er did see
A maid so fair since I did roam

Whack fol the...

As I went back through Dublin city
As the sun began to set
Who should I spy but the Spanish lady
Catching a moth in a golden net
When she saw me, then she fled me
Lifting her petticoat over her knee
In all my life I ne'er did see
A maid so shy as the Spanish lady

Whack fol the...

I've wandered north and I've wanderes south
Through Stonybatter and Patrick's Close
Up and around by the Glouster Diamond
And back by Napper Tandy's house
Old age has laid her hand on me
Cold as a fire of ashy coals
In all my life I ne'er did see
A maid so sweet as the Spanish lady

Whack fol the...



traditional
]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:44:43 +0100 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=483:song-for-ireland&catid=93:irland&directory=55
Walking all the day,
Near tall towers where falcons build their nests
Silverwinged they fly
They know the call of freedom in their breasts
Saw Black Head against the sky
Where twisted rocks run down to the sea

Living on your western shore
Saw summer sunsets, asked for more
I stood by your Atlantic Sea
And sang a song for Ireland

Talking all the day
With true friends who try to make you stay
Telling jokes and news
Singing songs to pass the night away
Watched the Galway salmon run
Like silver, dancing, darting in the sun

Living on your.....

Drinking all the day
In old pubs where fiddlers love to play
Saw one touch the bow
He played a reel which semed so grand and gay
Stood on Dingle beach and cast
In wild foam we found Atlantic Bass

Living on your...

Dreaming in the night
I saw a land where no man had to fight
Walking in your dawn
I saw you crying in the morning light
Lying where the falcons fly
They twist and turn all in your air blue sky

Living on your....




written by Phil Colclough]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:44:18 +0100 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=482:solid-ground&catid=93:irland&directory=55
Down the Buckney den the burn crashes down from the Autumn spate.
The gentle hazels rustle as they bend and sway as they laden wait.
My fathers they have walked this road
And now I know
And yes didn't they know
There is no great and heavy load
And now I know
And yes didn't they know.

Fa la-a la la la-a
We stand on Solid Ground on Solid Ground
Fa la-a la la la-a
We stand on Solid Ground

Across the Arlick face the amber sun beats down to tinge the vivid green.
I hear it wide and loud, Feel it wild and proud, the way it's always been.
My fathers they have looked this way
And now I know
And yes didn't they know
No clever words we have to say
And now I know
And yes didn't they know.

Fa la-a la la la-a, etc.

Where is the honest truth? Where is the open soul?
Where is the simple smile?
A couthie word or two for the passing stranger who may rest a while.
My fathers they have said these things
And now I know
And yes didn't they know
The joy that shared friendship brings
en I started f
And yes didn't they know.

Fa la-a la la la-a, etc.

It's the land. It is our wisdom.
It's the land. It shines us through.
V It feeds our children.
It's the land. You cannot own the land.
The land owns you.



Copyright Dougie MacLean 1988]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:43:56 +0100 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=481:the-soldiers-song-&catid=93:irland&directory=55
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.

chorus:
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.

chorus:
Soldiers are we....

Sons of the Gael!  Men of the Pale!
The long-watched day is breaking;
The serried ranks of Inisfail
Shall set the Tyrant quaking.
Our campfires now are burning low;
See in the east a silv'ry glow--
Out yonder waits the Saxon foe,
So chant a soldier's song!

chorus:
Soldiers are we...
]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:43:30 +0100 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=480:the-snowy-breasted-pearl&catid=93:irland&directory=55
There's a colleen fair as May
For a year and for a day
I have sought by every way
Her heart to gain.
There's no art of tongue or eye
Fond youths with maidens try
But I've tried with ceaseless sigh
Yet tried in vain.

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

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


]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:43:09 +0100 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=479:slieve-gallen-braes&catid=93:irland&directory=55
As I went out one morning all in the month of May
To view all your mountains and valleys so gay,
I was thinking of the flowers all a-going to decay
That bloom around you, bonny, bonny Slieve Gallen Braes.

Full oftimes I have wandered with my dog and my gun,
To view all your mountains and your valleys for fun,
But those days they now are gone, and I am far away,
So farewell unto you bonny, bonny, Slieve Gallen 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 Gallen Braes.

My name is young MacGarvey, as you will understand,
I have a small farm and it's very good land,
But the rents are getting higher and I can no longer stay
So farewell unto you bonny, bonny, Slive Gallen Braes.

It wasn't the lack of employment alone,
That caused the poor sons of old Erin to roam,
But it was the cruel landlords who drove us all away
So farewell unto you bonny, bonny, Slive Gallen 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 tyrannising landlords - I will no longer stay
So farewell unto to you bonny bonny Slieve Gallen Braes.


]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:42:42 +0100 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=478:slan-agus-beannacht-one-morning-in-june&catid=93:irland&directory=55
One morning in June agus mé ag dul ag spaisteoireacht
Casadh liom cailín is ba ró-dheas a gnaoi,
She was so handsome do thit mé i ngrá léi
Is d'fhág sí an arraing trí cheartlár mo chroí.
I asked her her name nó cad é an ruag bheannaithe
A chas ins an áit thú, a ghrá gheal mo chroí?
My heart it will break if you don't come along with me,
Slán agus beannacht le buaireamh an tsaoil.

Maise cailín beag óg mé ó cheantar na farraige.
Tógadh go cneasta mé i dtosach mo shaoil.
I being so airy ós é siúd ba chleachtach liom
Which made my own parents and me disagree.
Maise, a chuisle 's a stór, ach an éistfeá liom tamall,
I'll tell you a story a b'ait le do chroí,
That I'm a young man that is deeply in love with you,
Surely my heart is from roguery free?

There's an alehouse nearby agus beimid go maidin ann
If you are satisfied, 'ghrá gheal mo chroí,
Early next morning we'll send for the clergyman
Agus beimidne ceangailte í nganfhios don tsaol,
Beimid ag ól fad a mhairfeas an t-airgead
Then we will take the road home with all spee.
When the reckoning is due, boys, who cares for the landlady?
Slán agus beannacht le buareamh an tsaoil.]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:42:24 +0100 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=476:siuil-a-ruin&catid=93:irland&directory=55
I wish I was on yonder hill
Tis there I'd sit and cry my fill
And till every tear would turn a mill
Is go dtí tú mo mhuirnín slán.

(Chorus)
Siúil, siúil, siúil a rúin
Siúil go sochair agus siúil go ciúin
Siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom
Is go dtí tú mo mhuirnín slán

I'll sell my rock, I'll sell my reel
I'll sell my only spinning wheel
To buy my love a sword of steel
Is go dtí tú mo mhuirnín slán

(Chorus)

I'll dye my petticoats, I'll dye them red
And around the world I'd beg my bread
Until my parents shall wish me dead.
Is go dtí tú mo mhuirnín slán

(Chorus)

But now my love has gone to France
To try his fortune to advance
If he e'er comes back it is but a chance
Is go dtí tú mo mhuirnín slán

(Chorus)

English translation chorus:

Go, go, go Love
Go smoothly and quietly
Go to the door and escape with me
And may you go safe my darling
]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:41:47 +0100 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=475:the-sick-note-why-paddys-not-at-work-today&catid=93:irland&directory=55

Dear Sir I write this note to inform you of my plight
And at the time of writing I am not a pretty sight
My body is all black and blue, my face a deathly gray
I write this note to tell why Paddy's not at work today

While working on the fourteenth floor, some bricks I had to clear
And to throw them down from off the top seemed quite a good idea
But the gaffer wasn't very pleased, he was an awful sod
He said I had to cart them down the ladder in me hod.

Well clearing all those bricks by hand, it seemed so very slow
So I hoisted up a barrel and secured the rope below
But in my haste to do the job, I was too blind to see
That a barrel full of building bricks is heavier than me.

So when I had untied the rope, the barrel fell like lead
And clinging tightly to the rope I started up instead
I took off like a rocket and to my dismay I found
That half way up I met the bloody barrel coming down.

Well the barrel broke my shoulder as on to the ground it sped
And when I reached the top I banged the pulley with me head
I held on tight, though numb with shock from this almighty blow
And the barrel spilled out half its load fourteen floors below

Now when those building bricks fell from the barrel to the floor
I then outweighed the barrel so I started down once more
I held on tightly to the rope as I flew to the ground
And I landed on those building bricks that were scattered all
around.

Now as I lay there on the deck I thought I'd passed the worst
But when the barrel reached the top, that's when the bottom burst
A shower of bricks came down on me, I knew I had no hope
In all of this confusion, I let go the bloody rope.

The barrel being heavier, it started down once more
And landed right on top of me as I lay on the floor
It broke three ribs and my left arm, and I can only say
That I hope you'll understand why Paddy's not at work today.



by Pat Cooksey
]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:41:20 +0100 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=474:shanagolden&catid=93:irland&directory=55
The cold wins from the mountains are calling soft to me.
The smell of scented heather, brings bitter memory
The wild and lonely eagle up in the summer sky.
Flies high o'er Shanagolden, where my young Willie lies.

I met him in the winter time when snow was on the ground,
The Irish hills were peaceful and love was all around.
Scarcely twenty one years old a young man in his prime,
We were amrried darling Willie by the eve of Christmas time.

Do you remember darlin' we walked the moonlit road,
I held you in my arms love, I would never let you go.
Our hands they were entwined my love all in the pale moonlight,
By the fileds of Shanagolden on a lonely winter's night.

Then came the call to arms my love and the hills they were aflame.
Down from the silent mountains the Saxon strangers came.
I held you in my arms then my young heart wild with fear,
By the fields of Shanagolden in the springtime of the year.

You fought them darling Willie all through the summer days,
I heard the rifles firing in the mountains far away.
I held you in my arms then your blood ran free and bright,
And you died in Shanagolden on a lonely summer's night.

Oh, But that was long ago my love and your son grows fine and tall,
The hills they are at peace again, the Saxon strangers gone.
We'll place a red rose on your grave by the silvery pale moonlight,
And we'll think of Shanagolden on a lonely winter's night.]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:41:01 +0100 http://www.cantalibre.de//index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=473:paddys-green-shamrock-shore&catid=93:irland&directory=55
Oh farethee well to Ireland, my own dear native land.
It breaks my heart to see friends part. For it's then that the tear drops fall.
I'm on my way to Amerikay. Will I ever see home once more.
For now I leave my own true love. And Paddy's Green Shamrock Shore.

From Londonderry we did sail, it being on the fourth of May.
Pleasant weather I'm sure we had going to America.
Fresh water then we did take in, one hundred tons or more
For fear we'd be short on the other side, far from the Shamrock shore.

Two of our anchors we did weigh before we left the quay;
Down the river we were towed till we came to Botany Bay.
We saw that nicht the grandest night we ever saw before,
The sun going down 'tween sea and sky far from the Shamrock shore.

Early next morning we were sea-sick all, not one of us was free.
I, myself was confined to bed with no one to pity me;
No father or no mother to raise my head when sore;
That made me think of the friends I left on the lonely Shamrock shore.

We landed safely in New York after four and twenty days,
Each comrade by the hand we took and we marched through different ways.
Each one drank a flowing glass as we might meet no more.
With flowing bumpers we drank a health to the lonely Shamrock shore.]]> Tue, 29 Sep 2009 14:40:41 +0100