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THE HILLS OF TANDRAGEE.
0' listen a while my countrymen and hear my latest news
Although my song is sorrowful I hope you'll me excuse
I left my peaceful residence a foreign land to see
I said goodbye to Ballylisk likewise to Tandragee.
Brave stalwart men around me stood,
Each comrade kind and true,
And as I clasped each well known hand, to bid my last adieu,
I says, my fellow countrymen I hope you'll soon be free
And raise the Orange Flag proudly o'er the Hills of Tandragee.
No more among the Sycamore I'll hear the blackbird sing
No more to me the brown Cuckoo will welcome back the Spring
No more I'll see your fertile fields and weeping willow tree
Nor raise the Orange Flag proudly o'er the Hills of Tandragee.
God bless you dear old County Armagh my own dear native land
In dreams I often see your hills and lovely orchards grand
And though three thousand miles do lie between yon hills and me,
You'll raise the Orange Flag proudly o'er the Hills of Tandragee.
May peace and plenty reign supreme upon Lough Erne's shore
May discord live forever in Ulster's homes no more
And may the time soon come around when I return to thee
To raise the Orange Flag proudly o'er the Hills of Tandragee.
'While the
Orange Lilies Grow'
0 Thou, who nerved our fathers in days of old.
Grant we, their children, in heart may not grow cold
To fight with courage in this northern land
For what they fought, our own dear native land.
Shall we yield the walls of Derry or Enniskillen's plain,
Where the ashes of our fathers in peaceful sleep remain?
Loud rings the voice of Ulster as she answers proudly: No;
What our fathers won we'll hold, while the Orange Lilies grow!
That their ideals, for which they bravely drew the sword,
May still be ours to keep, we will with courage guard;
For we've done all that men can do to placate our ancient foe.
With every' claim we render their demands the greater grow.
We have our last concession given, the last inch which we will yield
Ere we spring to arms to defend our cause; may Heaven be our shield.
For we've decided, come what may, through happiness or woe,
What our fathers won we'll hold, while the Orange Lilies grow.
How my heart does thrill with joy, ever since I first have seen
All the fertile plains of Ulster, her hills and valleys green.
And what rapture fills my soul when praises meet are paid
To the manhood of her sons and the beauty of her maids.
0, proud I am of this fair land, the land where I was born;
Where liberty is held most dear, and deceit is held in scorn.
Still a greater pride, a greater joy is mine, because I know
What our fathers won we'll hold, while the Orange Lilies grow.
The Boyne Water
July the first, in Oldbridge town,
There was a grievious battle,
Where many a man lay on the ground
By the cannons that did rattle;
King James he pitched his tents between
The lines, for to retire;
But King William threw his bomb balls in
And set them all on fire.
Thereat enraged, they vowed revenge
Upon King William's forces;
And often cried vehemently,
That they would stop their courses.
A bullet from the Irish came,
Which grazed King William's arm;
They thought his Majesty was slain -
Yet it did him little harm.
Duke Schomberg then in friendly care,
His King would often caution,
To shun the spot where bullets hot,
Retain their rapid motion;
But William said: "He don't deserve
The name of Faith's Defender,
That would not venture life and limb,
To make a foe surrender. "
When we the Boyne began to cross,
The enemy descended;
But few of our brave men were lost,
So stoutly we defended;
The horse were the first that marched o'er
The foot soon followed after;
But brave Duke Schomberg was no more,
By venturing over the water.
When valiant Schomberg he was slain,
King William then accosted
His warlike men for to march on,
And he would be the foremost;
"Brave boys, " he said, "be not dismayed,
For the losing of one commander,
For God will be our King this day,
And I'll be the general under."
Then stoutly we the Boyne did cross,
To give our enemies battle;
Our cannon, to our foes' great cost,
Like thunder-claps did rattle:
In majestic mien our Prince rode o'er,
His men soon followed after,
Then blows and shouts put foes to rout
The day we crossed the water.
Then said King William to his men,
After the French departed.
"I'm glad, indeed, that none of ye
Seemed to be fainthearted;
So sheath your swords and rest a while,
In time we'll follow after."
These words he uttered with a smile
The day he crossed the water.
The cunning French near to Duleek,
Had taken up their quarters,
And fenced themselves on every side,
Awaiting for new orders;
But in the dead time of the night,
They set the fields on fire;
And long before the morning light
To Dublin did retire.
The Protestants of Drogheda
Have reason to be thankful,
That they were not to bondage brought,
They being but a handful:
First to the Tholsel they were brought,
And tried at the Millmount after;
But brave King William set them free,
By venturing over the water.
Come, let us all with heart and voice
Applaud our lives' defender;
Who at the Boyne his valour show'd,
And made his foes surrender.
To God above the praise we'll give,
Both now and everafter;
And bless the glorious mem'ry
Of William that crossed the water.
STAR OF THE COUNTY DOWN
In Banbridge Town in the County Down
One morning last July,
From a boreen green came a sweet colleen,
And she smiled as she passed me by.
She looked so sweet from her two bare feet
To the sheen of her nut brown hair.
Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself
For to see I was really there.
Chorus:
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
and From Galway to Dublin Town,
No maid I've seen like the brown colleen
That I met in the County Down
As she onward sped, sure I scratched my head
And I looked with a feelin'rare
And I say's, say's I, to a passer-by
Whose the maid with the nut brown hair?
He smiled at me and he says's, say's he,
That's the gem of Ireland's crown
It's Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann
She's the star of the County Down.
Repeat Chorus:
At the Harvest Fair she'll be surely there
And I'll dress in my Sunday clothes
With my shoes shone bright and my hat cocked right
For a smile from my nut brown rose
No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke
Till my plough turns rust coloured brown
Till a smiling bride, by my own fireside
Sits the star of the County Down.
Chorus / Repeat
Traditional
MY MATCH IT IS MADE
TA MO CHLEAMHNAS DEANTA Ta mo chleamhnas deanta o athru areir S'ni
mo na go dtaithnioonn an bhean liom fein Ach fagfaidh me i mo dhiaidh i
'gus imeoidh me liom fein Ar fud na gcoillte craobhach
My match it was made here last night
To a girl I neither love nor like
But I'll take my own advice
And leave her behind
And go roaming the wild woods all over.
Shiuil mise thoir agus shiuil mise thiar. Shiuil mise Corcaigh 'gus
sraide Bh'l'ath Cliath Ach samhail de mo chailin deas ni fhaca mise riamh.
'Si an bhean dubh a dhfhag mo chroi craite
I walked up and I walked down.
I walked Cork, and Dublin, and Belfast towns,
But no equal to my true love could I find.
She's the wee lass that's left my heart broken.
D'eirigh me ar maidin dha uair roimh an la 'gus fuair me litir o
mo mhile ghra Chuala me an smoilin 's an londubh a ra Gur ealiagh mo ghra
thar saile
I got up two hours before day
And I got a letter from my true love.
I heard the blackbird and linnet say
That my love had crossed the ocean.
As She Moved Through the Fair
My young love said to me, my mother won't mind
And my father won't slight you for your lack of kind.
She stepped away from me and this she did say,
"It will not be long love, till our wedding day".
She stepped away from me, and she moved through the fair,
And fondly I watched her move here, and move there.
And she went her way homeward with one star awake,
As the swan in the evening moved over the lake.
Last night she came to me, my young love came in.
So softly she entered, that her feet made no din.,
And she came close beside me, and this she did say,
"It will not be long love Till our wedding day".
Traditional
I'll Tell Me Ma
I'll tell me Ma when I go home,
The boy's won't leave the girls alone.
They'll pull my hair, they stole my comb,
Well that's all right till I go home.
Chorus: She is handsome. She is pretty.
She is the bell of Belfast City.
She is courtin' one, two, three.
Please won't you tell me, who is she?
Albert Mooney say's he loves her.
All the boy's are fighting for her.
They knock at the door and ring at the bell
Sayin' "Oh my true love, are you well"?
Out she comes as white as snow,
Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes.
Oul Jenny Murray say's she'll die
If you don't get the fella
With the roving eye.
Let the wind and the rain and hail blow high
And the snow come tumbling from the sky,
She's as nice as apple pie.
She'll get her own lad by and by.
When she gets a lad of her own,
She won't tell her Ma when she gets home.
Let them all come as they will
For it's Albert Mooney she loves still.
Repeat 1st Verse and Chorus
Traditional
Carrickfergus
I wished I had you in Carrickfergus,
Only for nights in Ballygrand,
I would swim over the deepest ocean,
The deepest ocean to be by your side.
But the sea is wide and I can't swim over
And neither have I wings to fly.
I wish I could find me a handy boatman
To ferry me over to my love and die.
My childhood days bring back sad reflections
Of happy days so long ago.
My boyhood friends and my own relations.
Have all passed on like the melting snow.
So I'll spend my days in endless roving,
Soft is the grass and my bed is free.
Oh to be home now in Carrickfergus,
On the long road down to the salty sea.
And in Kilkenny it is reported
On marble stone there as black as ink,
With gold and silver I did support her
But I'll sing no more now till I get a drink.
I'm drunk today and I'm rarely sober,
A handsome rover from town to town.
Oh but I am sick now and my days are numbered
Come all ye young men and lay me down.
Celtic Ray (Van Morrison)
When Lewellen comes around
And he goes through market town
You'll be on the Celtic Ray,
Are you ready?
When McManus comes around
On his early morning round
Cryin' "Herrin' Olay"
You'll be on the Celtic Ray.
1st Bridge: Ireland, Scotland, Brittany, and Wales,
I can hear those ancient voices calling,
"Children, children"
When the coalbrick man comes round,
On a cold November day
You'll be on the Celtic Ray,
Are you ready?
2nd Bridge: Ireland, Scotland, Cornwall and Wales,
I can hear those ancient voices calling,
"Children, children, children".
Listen Jimmy, I wanna go home.
Listen Jimmy I wanna go home.
I've been away from the Ray too long.
Repeat I've been away from the Ray too long.
In the early mornin', we'll go walkin' where
The light comes shining through
On the Celtic Ray,
Are you ready?
My Lagan Love
Where Lagan streams sing lullabies
There blows a lily fair.
The twilight gleam is in her eye,
The night is on her hair.
And like a lovesick lenashee
She hath my heart in thrall.
No life have I, no liberty,
For love is Lord of all.
And often when the beetles horn
Has lulled the eve to sleep,
I'll steal into her sheiling lorn
And through the doorway creep.
There on the cricket's singing stone,
She makes the bogwood fire
And sings in sweet and undertone,
The song of hearts desire.
Her welcome like her love for me
Is from the heart within
Her warm kiss is felicity,
That knows no taint or sin
When she was only fairy small
Her gentle mother died
But true love keeps her memory warm,
By Lagan's silver side
Traditional
A TRACE BOY ON LIGONIEL HILL
(Hugh Quinn)
Do ye mind the old horse trams a long time ago,
As they passed through the city at jog trot or slow?
On the level they cantered, but the pace it did kill
When they got to the bottom of Ligoniel Hill.
But the trace-boys were there with a heart and a hand,
They let down the traces and buckled each band.
The passengers sat on contented and still
When they saw the bold trace-boys of Ligoniel hill.
Away we did canter as fast as the wind,
And left the poor country carts plodding behind;
And that song of the wind in my heart I hear still
As when I was a trace-boy on Ligoniel Hill.
The youth of today hold their heads in the air
And the young girls pass by with a golliwog stare,
Let them pity the crulge* on my back if they will
But I once was a trace-boy on Ligoniel Hill.
My friends all departed, and work now so scarce,
The only thing left is a ride in a hearse;
For the sky is my roof and my bed a brick-kiln,
Yet I once was a trace-boy on Ligoniel Hill.
From Songs of Belfast, Hammond
BARD OF ARMAGH
Oh, list to the tale of a poor Irish harper
And scorn not the strings in his old withered hand
But remember these fingers could once move more sharper
To waken the echoes of his dear native land
How I long for to muse on the days of my boyhood
Though four score and three years have fled by since then
Still it gives sweet reflections, as every young joy should
That merry-hearted boys make the best of old men
At wake or at fair I would twirl my shillelagh
And trip through the jigs with my brogues bound with straw
And all the pretty maidens from the village, the valley
Loved the bold Phelim Brady, the bard of Armagh
And when sergeant Death's cold arms shall embrace me
Oh lull me to sleep with sweet Erin Go Bragh
By the side of my Kathleen, my own love, then place me
And forget Phelim Brady, the bard of Armagh
Traditional
BUNCH OF 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
Thyme 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
Traditional
CASTLE OF DROMORE
The October winds lament around the castle of Dromore
Yet peace is in her lofty halls, my loving treasure store
Though autumn leaves may droop and die, a bud of spring are you
Sing hushabye loo, low loo, low lan Hushabye loo, low loo
Dread spirits all of black water, Clan Owen's wild banshee
Bring no ill wind to him nor us, my helpless babe and me
And Holy Mary pitying us to Heaven for grace doth sue
Take time to thrive, my ray of hope, in the garden of Dromore
Take heed, young eaglet, till thy wings are feathered fit to soar
A little rest and then the world is full of work to do
A little rest and then the world is full of work to do
Traditional
CRAIGIE HILL
It being in spring and the small birds they were singing
Down by a shady arbour I carelessly did stray
Where the thrushes they were warbling
The violets they were charming
For to view two lovers talking a while I did delay
She said, "My dear, don't leave me all for another season
Though fortune may be pleasing
I'll go along with you
I'll give up friends and relations and quit this Irish nation
And to the bonnie Bann banks forever I'll bid adieu"
He said, "My dear, don't grieve me or yet annoy my patience
You know I love you dearly although I'm going away
I'm going to some foreign nation to purchase a plantation
For to comfort us hereafter all in America.
The landlords and their agents, their bailiffs and their beagles
The land of our forefathers we're forced for to give o'er
And we're sailing on the ocean for honor and promotion
And we're parting with our sweethearts, it's them we do adore
If you were in your bed lying and thinking of dying
One sight of the bonny Bann banks, your sorrows you'd give o'er
And if your were but one hour all in her shady bower
Pleasure would surround you,
You'd think on death no more
So fare thee well, sweet Craigie Hill, where ofttimes I have roved
in
I never thought in my childhood days I'd part you any more
But we're sailing on the ocean for honour and promotion
And the bonny boat's sailing way down by Doorin shore
Traditional
DANNY BOY
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying
'tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come you back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'tis I'll be there in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.
And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.
And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me
I simply sleep in peace until you come to me.
Traditional
ENNISKILLEN DRAGOONS
A beautiful damsel of fame and renown
A gentleman's daughter from Monaghan town
As she went through the barracks this beautiful maid
Stood up in her coach to see dragoons on parade
Fare ye well, Enniskillen, I must leave you for a while
And all thy fair waters and Erin's green isle
And when the wars are over, I'll return in full bloom
And they'll all welcome home their Enniskillen dragoons
They were all dressed up the like of gentleman's sons
With their bright shining rapiers and carabine guns
Their bayonets fornenst them, oh she saw them full soon
Just because that she loved an Enniskillen dragoon
She looked to the bright sons of Mars on the right
Their armor outshining the stars of the night
"Oh Willie, dearest Willie, you have 'listed full soon
In the royal, loyal Enniskillen dragoons"
"Oh Flora, dearest Flora, your pardon I crave
Both now and forever, you know I am your slave
But your parents they have slighted me, morning, night, and noon
Just because that you loved your Enniskillen dragoon"
"Oh Willie, dearest Willie, head not what they say
For children their parents must always obey
And when you've left Ireland, they'll soon change their tune
Sayin' 'The good Lord be wi' ye, Enniskillen dragoon'"
Traditional
FARE THEE
WELL ENNISKILLEN
Our troop was made ready at the dawn of the day ,
From lovely Enniskillen they were marching us away.
They put us then on board a ship to cross the raging main,
To fight in bloody battle in the sunny land of Spain.
Chorus: Fare thee well Enniskillen, fare thee well for a while
And all around the borders of Erin's green isle;
And when the war is over we'll return in full bloom
And you'll all welcome home the Enniskillen Dragoons.
Oh Spain it is a gallant land where wine and ale flow free
There's lots of lovely women there to dandle on your knee
And often in a tavern there we'd make the rafters ring
When every soldier in the house would raise his glass and sing
Chorus.
Well we fought for Ireland's glory there and many a man did fall
From musket and from bayonet and from thundering cannon ball
And many a foeman we laid low, amid the battle throng
And as we prepared for action you would often hear this song
Chorus.
Well now the fighting's over and for home we have set sail,
Our flag above this lofty ship is fluttering in the gale:
They've given us a pension boys of fourpence each a day
And when we reach Enniskillen never more.we'll have to say.
Chorus.
Traditional
I AM A WEE LADDIE
I am a wee laddie, hard, hard is my fate,
I have travelled this country both early and late
I courted a wee Iass, I did her adore;
Though she has denied me, I'll try her once more.
At the late hour of midnight when souls are at rest,
I think of my true love with hope in my breast,
Saying, "The time it is coming and that you will see,
When I'll be with my true love and she'll be with me."
"Oh, it's Johnnie, dear Johnnie, such things cannot be,
As to be with your true love and you be with me,
For to leave father, mother, their poor hearts would break,
For to leave sisters, brothers, and follow a rake."
"Oh, it's Molly, dear Molly, you're not much to blame,
When first I came courting, you scarce were eighteen,
Your parents did slight me because I loved so,
And for that very reason I love where you go.
"Oh, it's green grows the holly and so does the rue,
And I'm very sorry at parting with you,
But we'll have merry meetings, our joys to renew,
And we'll leave o'er the false love and start on the new."
From Songs of the People, Henry
MAID OF THE SWEET BROWN
KNOWE
Come all ye lads and lasses, and hear my mournful tale,
Ye tender hearts that weep for love to sigh you will not fail,
'Tis all about a young man, and my song will tell you how
He lately came a-courtin' of the Maid of the Sweet Brown Knowe.
Said he, "My pretty young fair maid, could you and I agree,
To join our hands in wedlock bands, and married we will be;
We'll join our hands in wedlock bands, and you'll have my plighted
vow,
That I'll do my whole endeavours for the Maid of the Sweet Brown
Knowe.
Now this young and pretty fickle thing, she knew not what to say,
Her eyes did shine like silver bright, and merrily did play;
Says she, "Young man, your love subdue, I am not ready now,
And I'll spend another season at the foot of the Sweet Brown Knowe."
"Oh," says he, "My pretty young fair maid, now why do you say so?
Look down in yonder valley where my verdant crops do grow.
Look down in yonder valley at my horses and my plough,
All at their daily labour for the Maid of the Sweet Brown Knowe."
"If they're at their daily labour, kind sir, it is not for me.
I've heard of your behaviour, I have, kind sir, " said she;
"There is an inn where you drop in, I've heard the people say,
Where you rap and you call and you pay for all,
and go home by the break of day."
"If I rap and I call and I pay for all, my money is all my own.
I've never spent ought of your fortune, for I hear that you've got
none.
You thought you had my poor heart broke in talkin' to you now,
But I'll leave you where I found you,
at the foot of the Sweet Brown Knowe."
Recorded by Burl Ives and several Clancys
RODDY MCCORLEY (Words
by Ethna Carberry;)
O see the fleet-foot host of men, who march with faces drawn,
From farmstead and from fishers' cot, along the banks of Ban;
They come with vengeance in their eyes.
Too late! Too late are they,
For young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today.
Up the narrow street he stepped, so smiling, proud and young.
About the hemp-rope on his neck, the golden ringlets clung;
There's ne'er a tear in his blue eyes, fearless and brave are they,
As young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today.
When last this narrow street he trod, his shining pike in hand
Behind him marched, in grim array, a earnest stalwart band.
To Antrim town! To Antrim town, he led them to the fray,
But young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the bridge of Toome today.
There's never a one of all your dead more bravely died in fray Than
he who marches to his fate in Toomebridge town today; ray True to the last!
True to the last, he treads the upwards way, And young Roddy McCorley goes
to die on the bridge of Toome today.
Recorded by Kingston Trio, Clancys
music traditional.
THE LARK IN THE CLEAR AIR
Dear thoughts are in my mind
And my soul soars enchanted
As I hear the sweet lark sing
In the clear air of the day.
For a tender beaming smile
To my hope has been granted
And tomorrow she shall hear
All my fond heart would say.
2. I shall tell her all my love
And my soul's adoration
And I think she will hear me
And will not say me nay.
It is this that gives my soul
All its joyous elation
As I hear the sweet lark sing
In the clear air of the day.
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