Fields of Athenry
(As originally published in 1888)
By a lonely prison wall
I heard a sweet voice calling,
"Danny, they have taken you away.
For you stole Travelian's corn,
That your babes might see the morn,
Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay."
Chorus:
Fair lie the fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small freebirds fly.
Our love grew with the spring,
We had dreams and songs to sing
As we wandered through the fields of Athenry.
By a lonely prison wall
I heard a young man calling
"Nothing matters, Jenny, when you're free
Against the famine and the crown,
I rebelled, they ran me down,
Now you must raise our children without me."
Chorus:
On the windswept harbour wall,
She watched the last star rising
As the prison ship sailed out across the sky
But she'll watch and hope and pray,
For her love in Botany Bay
Whilst she is lonely in the fields of Athenry.
Whilst she is lonely in the fields of Athenry.
Chorus:
By a lonely prison wall
I heard a young girl calling,
"Michael, they are taking you away.
For you stole Travelian'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 freebirds 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 children with dignity."
Chorus:
By a lonely harbour wall,
She watched the last star falling
As the prison ship sailed out across the sky
But she'll watch and hope and pray,
For her love in Botany Bay
It's so lonely 'round the fields of Athenry.
It's so lonely 'round the fields of Athenry.
Chorus:
Old Maid in the Garret
I have often heard it said from me father and me mother,
That going to a wedding was the making of another.
Well if this be so, then I'll go without a bidding,
Oh kind providence won't you send me to a wedding.
Chorus:
For it's oh dear me, how will it be if I die
an old maid in the garret?
Oh now there's my sister Jean,
she's not handsome or good looking'
Scarcely sixteen and a fella she was courting',
Now she's twenty four with a son and a daughter,
here am I forty-five, and I've never had an offer.
Repeat Chorus:
I can cook and I can sew,
I can keep the house right tidy,
Rise up in the morning and get the breakfast ready.
But there's nothing in this wide world would
make me half so cherry as a wee fat mannie who would
call me his own dearie.
Repeat Chorus:
Oh come landsman or come kinsman, come tinker or come tailor,
Come fiddler or come dancer, come ploughman or come sailor,
Come rich man come poor man, come fool or come witty,
Come any man at all who would marry me for pity
Repeat Chorus:
Oh I'm away home for there's nobody heeding',
There's nobody heeding' for poor Annie's pleading',
And I'm away home to me own wee bit garret,
If I can't get a man than I'll surely get a parrot.
Repeat Chorus:
The Rising of the Moon
"O then, tell me Sean O'Farrell,
tell me why you hurry so?"
"Hush a bhuachaill, hush and listen"
And his cheeks were all aglow
"I bear orders from the capt'n
Get you ready quick and soon
For the pikes must be together
At the rising of the moon"
CHORUS:
By the rising of the moon,
by the rising of the moon
"O then tell me Sean O'Farrell
Where the gath'rin is to be?
In the old spot by the river,
Well known to you and me.
One more word for signal token,
Whistle up the marchin' tune,
With your pike upon your shoulder,
By the rising of the moon.
CHORUS:
Out from many a mud wall cabin
Eyes were watching through the night,
Many a manly heart was beatin ,
For the blessed morning light.
Murmurs ran along the valleys,
to the banshee's lonely croon
And a thousand pikes were flashing,
At the rising of the moon.
CHORUS:
All along that singing river
That black mass of men were seen,
High above their shining weapons,
flew their own beloved green.
"Death to every foe and traitor!
Forward! Strike the marching tune.
And hurrah my boy for freedom; '
Tis the rising of the moon".
CHORUS:
Well they fought for poor old Ireland,
And full bitter was their fate,
(Oh what glorious pride and sorrow,
Fills the name of ninety-eight!)
Yet, thank God, e'en still are beating
Hearts in manhood burning noon,
Who would follow in there footsteps,
At the risin' of the moon
CHORUS:
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