1. |
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Paddy's Green Shamrock Shore
From Derry Quay we sailed away
On the 23rd of May
We were boarded by a pleasant crew
Bound for Americay
Fresh water there we did take on
Five thousand gallons or more
In case we'd run short going to NewYork
Far away from the Shamrock shore
We safely reached the other side
In three and twenty days
We were taken as passengers by a man
And sent 'round in six different ways
We each of us drank a parting glass
In case we should never meet more
And we drank a health to old Ireland
And Paddy's Green Shamrock Shore
So fare thee well, sweet Lisa dear
And likewise to Derry town
And twice farewell to my comrades bold
Who still dwell on that sainted ground
If fortune, it ever should favor me
Or I do should have money in store
I'll go back and I'll wed the wee lassie I left
On Paddy's Green Shamrock Shore
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2. |
Kilkelly
07:09
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Kilkelly, Ireland, eighteen and sixty
My dear and loving son John
Your good friend the schoolmaster Pat McNamara’s
So good as to write these words down
Your brothers have all gone to find work in England
The house is so empty and sad
The crop of potatoes is sorely infected
A third to a half of them bad
And your sister Brigid and Patrick O`Donnell
Are going to be married in June
Your mother says not to work on the railroad
And be sure to come on home soon
Kilkelly, Ireland, eighteen and seventy
My dear and loving son John
Hello to your missus and to your four children
May they grow healthy and strong
Michael has got in a wee bit of trouble
I suppose that he never will learn
Because of the dampness there's no turf to speak of
And now we have nothing to burn
Brigid is happy you named a child for her
Although she's got six of her own
You say you found work but you don't say what kind
Or when you'll be coming home
Kilkelly, Ireland, eighteen and eighty
Dear Michael and John my sons
I'm sorry to give you the sad news
That your dear mother has gone
We buried her down at the church in Kilkelly
Your brothers and Brigid were there
You don't have to worry, she died very quickly
Remember her in your prayers
And it's so good to hear that Michael's returning
With money he’s sure to buy land
For the crop has been poor and the people are selling
At any price they can
Kilkelly, Ireland, eighteen and ninety
My dear and loving son John
I suppose that I must be close on eighty
It’s thirty years since you've gone
Because of all of the money you sent me
I'm still living out on my own
Michael has build himself a fine house
And Brigid’s daughters are grown
And thank you for sending your family picture
They're lovely young woman and men
You say that you might even come for a visit W
hat joy to see you again
Kilkelly, Ireland, eighteen and ninety two
My dear brother John
I’m sorry I didn't write sooner to tell you
That father passed on
He was living with Brigid she says he was cheerful
And healthy right down to the end
Ah, you should have seen him playing with the grandchildren
Of Pat McNamara your friend
And we buried him alongside of mother
Down at Kilkelly churchyard
He was a strong and feisty old man
Considering his life was so hard
And it’s funny the way he kept talking about you
He called for you at the end
Oh why don't you think about coming to visit
We’d all love to see you again
Words and Music by Peter Jones (copyright control)
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3. |
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4. |
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A ghaoth andeas na mbraon mbog glas,
A ní gach faithe féarmhar,
Bheir iasg ar eas is grian i dteas,
Is líon is meas ar ghéagaibh,
Más síos ar fad mar mbínn féin seal
Is mianach leat-sa séide,
Cuirim Rí na bhFeart dhod chaomhaint ar neart,
‘S túir don tír sin blas mo bhéil-se!”
Sínim andeas a’ díonamh cleas
Nach ndíonann neach sa’ saol so,
Mar íslím gaimh is sgaoilim leac
Is díbrim sneacht’ as sléibhte.
Ó taoi tú ar lear go bhfuí tú mo neart,
‘S gur mian liom do leas a dhéanamh,
Go bhfúigfe mé mo bheannacht ins gach aon tslí ar maith leat,
Agus choíche i gCathair Éamoinn!
A Chonnachta an tsóidh, an tsuilt is an spóirt,
I n-imir t ‘s i n-ól an fhíona,
Sin chugaibh mo phóg ar rith ins a’ ród,
Leigim le seól gaoithe í.
Tá mise beó i mboige na seód,
Mar a mbrúitear gach sórt bídh dhom,
Ach is mian liom fós tarraing d’bhur gcomhair
Muna gcluine mé ach ceól píopa!
O south wind of the gentle rain,
You banish winter’s weather,
Bring salmon to the pool again,
The bees among the heather.
If northward now you mean to blow,
As you rustle soft above me,
God-speed be with you as you go,
With a kiss for those that love me!”
From south I come with velvet breeze,
My work all nature blesses,
I melt the now and strew the leas
With flowers and soft caresses.
I’ll help you to dispel your woe,
With joy I’ll take your greeting
And bear it to your loved Mayo
Upon my wings so fleeting!”
My Connacht, famed for wine and play,
So leal, so gay, so loving,
Here’s a fond kiss I sent to-day,
Borne by the wind in its roving.
These Munster folk are good and kind,
Right royally they treat me,
But this land I’d gladly leave behind,
With your Connacht pipes to greet me!
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5. |
A Tribute To Ed Reavy
11:02
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HOW COULD REAVY DIE!
By Father Michael Doyle
The plumber of the hornpipes is dead.
The old diviner with the hazel bow,
That found the Shannon's source
And spread its magic waters over the world.
“Oh No,” she said "he's not dead,
How could Reavy die!"
And who are you to say!
"I am the Wind: The Wind
That drove the clouds in herds
Above the Cavan hills and Drexel too
And whispered to the oats in Barnagrove.
I am the breeze that touched O'Carolan's lips
With moisture on my breath
'Til notes danced within his mind
Like flames behind a blind.
I am the breath in Reavy's body
I would visit in the evening
I would dwell within his soul
He tamed me with his reverence
But I always had to go ...
But I bore him sounds of sweetness
Some were sad and some were glad
And he composed half a thousand tunes
About the happy time we had."
Hush! I whispered. Did you see his fiddle
On the altar - silent as a stone
And his body on the grave in Drexel Hill?
It was stuck on the hole in a final salute
Like an old finger frozen on a flute.
Did you see the people in a circle
Standing sadly all around,
When the pipes refused to play in the cold?
“Yes,” she said "I was there"
I am the Breath of the earth.
Every voice is a wisp of my prayer
Breathing blessings of incense on the bites of the air
Because life has the edge on the ice.
Listen my friend, to the lad with the whistle
With his finger tips timid and cold...
Hear the life that he brings to the old man's tune
And the leaks that he brings to the eyes.
And hear Reavy arise from the holes in the tin
And announce on his grave "I'm alive!"
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6. |
Reynardine
06:49
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One evening as I rambled,
Two miles below Pomeroy,
I met a pretty maiden,
All on the mountains high.
I said, "My pretty maiden,
Your beauty shines most clear,
Oh ‘tis on these lonesome mountains,
I'm glad to see you here."
I’m glad to see you here,
I’m glad to see you here,
Oh ‘tis on these lonesome mountains,
I'm glad to see you here
She said, “Kind, sir, be civil now,
My company forsake,
For to my great opinion,
I fear you are some rake.
And if my parents knew of this,
My life they would destroy,
For the keeping of your company,
All on the mountains high."
All on the mountains high
All on the mountains high
For the keeping of your company
All on the mountains high
I said, “My maid, I am no rake
Wrapped up in Venus' train,
Or seeking for advancement
All in me father's name;
But your beauty has enchanted me,
I cannot pass you by,
And that’s why I travel far from home,
All on the mountains high."
All on the mountains high
All on the mountains high
And that’s why I travel far from home,
All on the mountains high
This pretty fair young maiden then,
She fell in to amaze
Her eye’s as soft as amber
Upon me she did gaze
Her rosy cheeks, her ruby lips,
They lost their former dye,
And then she fell into his arms,
All on the mountains high;
All on the mountains high
All on the mountains high
And then she fell into his arms
All on the mountains high
I had not kissed her once or twice
‘Til she came to again,
Quite modestly she asked of me,
"Kind, sir, what is your name?"
“If you go to yonder forest,
The answer there you’ll find,
'Tis writ in ancient history,
They call me Reynardine."
They call me Reynardine
They call me Reynardine
Oh, ’tis writ in ancient history
They call me Reynardine
I said,“My pretty maiden now,
Don’t let your parents know,
For if you do I’ll surely rue,
And fate, will overthrow
And if you come in search of me,
Perhaps, you’ll not me find.
But I’ll be in my castle,
Enquire for Reynardine”
Enquire for Reynardine
Enquire for Reynardine
Oh, I’ll be in my castle
Enquire for Reynardine
So come all you pretty fair maidens now
And a warning take by me:
Beware of your common ways
And shun bad company,
For if you do you'll surely rue,
Until the day you die,
And beware of meeting Reynardine
All on the mountains high.
All on the mountains high
All on the mountains high
And beware of meeting Reynardine
All on the mountains high...
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7. |
Stick To The Craythur
04:56
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Let your quacks and newspapers be cutting their capers
About curing the vapors, the scratch and the gout
With their medical potions, their serums and lotions
Ochone in their notions they're mighty put out
Who can tell the true physic to all that's pathetic
And pitch to the Divil cramp, colic and spleen
You'll know it I think if you take a big drink
With your mouth to the brink of a jug of poteen
So stick to the craythur the best thing in nature
For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys
Oh what botheration, no dose in the nation
Can give consolation like poteen me boys
As a child in the cradle, me nurse with her ladle
Was filling me mouth with a notion of pap
When a drop from the bottle fell into me throttle
I capered and scrambled clean out of her lap
On the floor I lay crawlin' and screaming and bawling
'Til me father and mother were called to the fore
All sobbing and sighing they feared I was dying
But soon found I only was crying for more
So stick to the craythur the best thing in nature
For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys
Oh lord how they'd chuckle if babes in their truckle
They only could suckle on poteen me boys
Through my youthful aggression, and times of depression
My childhood impression still clung to my mind
And at school or at college the basis of knowledge
I never could gulp 'til with whiskey combined
And as older I'm growing, time's ever bestowin'
On Erin's potation a flavor so fine
And howe'er they may lecture on Jove and his nectar
Itself is the only true liquid divine
So stick to the craythur the best thing in nature
For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys
Oh lord, 'tis the right thing for courting and fighting
There's nought so exciting as poteen me boys
Come guess me this riddle, what beats pipes and fiddle
What's hotter than mustard and milder than cream
What best wets your whistle, what's clearer than crystal
What's sweeter than honey and stronger than steam
What'll make the lame walk, what'll make the dumb talk
The elixir of life and philosopher's stone
And what helped Mr. Brunnell to dig the Thames Tunnel
Sure, wasn't it poteen from old Inishowen
So stick to the craythur the best thing in nature
For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys
Oh lord, 'tis no wonder if lightning and thunder
Weren't made from the plunder of poteen me boys
Now, ye maidens pathetic, with lovers athletic
For liquid cosmetic, you can't beat the drop
With a glow to your cheek, it'll make your heart leap
It would quieten a stallion or cure an old cob
From the mouth you would drool, be reduced to a fool
You'd kick up your heels and you'd peel to the buff
And 'tis you'd be athletic while he'd be pathetic
If only you'd take a few drops of the stuff
So stick to the craythur the best thing in nature
For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys
For there's nothing like whiskey to make maidens frisky
It soon separates all the men from the boys
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8. |
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Mick Moloney, Robbie O'Connell, and Jimmy Keane
Since 1984, Mick Moloney, Robbie O'Connell, and Jimmy Keane have been delighting audiences with their unique blend of Irish music and song, both traditional and contemporary. An evening with this trio is an experience that covers much musical ground and is not easily forgotten. ... more
Contact Mick Moloney, Robbie O'Connell, and Jimmy Keane
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