1. |
The Ballad of Jack Dolan
03:33
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It’s of a wild colonial boy, Jack Dolan was his name
Of poor but honest parents, he was born in Castlemaine
He was his father’s only hope, his mother’s only joy
And dearly did his parents love their wild colonial boy
At scarcely sixteen years of age he left his father’s home
And to Australia’s sunny clime a bushranger he roamed
He robbed those wealthy squatters and their stock he did destroy
A terror to Australia was the wild colonial boy
Chorus
So come on all me hearties, we’ll roam the mountains high
Together we will plunder and together we will die
We’ll wander o’er the valleys, we’ll gallop o’er the plains
We’ll scorn to live in slavery, bound down in iron chains
In ‘61, this daring youth commenced his wild career
With a heart that knew no danger, no foeman did he fear
He held up the Beechworth mail coach and he robbed Judge McEvoy
Who trembled and gave up his gold to the wild colonial boy
One day as he was rambling the mountainside along
Listening to those little birds, their pleasant laughing song
Up rode three mounted troopers, Kelly, Davis and Fitzroy
They swore that they would capture him, the wild colonial boy
Chorus
Surrender now Jack Dolan for you see we’re three to one
Surrender now Jack Dolan or your life will not be long
Jack pulled a pistol from his belt and shook it up on high
“I’ll fight but not surrender,” said the wild colonial boy
He fired at trooper Kelly and he brought him to the ground
Then turning round to Davis, he received a mortal wound
All shattered through the jaw he lay, still firing at Fitzroy
And that’s the way they captured him, the wild colonial boy
Adapted with new words and music by Robbie O'Connell © 1987 Slievenamon Music (BMI)
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2. |
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3. |
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Oh! Drimin Donn Dilis! The landlord has come,
Like a foul blast of death has he swept o'er our home;
He has withered the rooftree - beneath the cold sky,
And houseless and homeless, to-night we must lie.
My heart it is cold as the white winter's snow;
My brain is on fire, and my blood's in a glow.
Oh! Drimin Donn Dilis, 'tis hard to forgive
When a robber denies us the right we should live.
With my health and my strength, with hard labour and toil,
I dried the wet marsh and I tilled the harsh soil;
I moiled the long day through, from morn ‘til even,
And I thought in my heart I'd a foretaste of heaven.
The summer sun shone around us above and below,
The beautiful summer that makes the flowers grow;
Oh! 'Tis hard to forget it, and to think I must bear
That strangers shall reap the reward of my care.
Your limbs they were plumb then - your coat it was silk,
And never was wanted the mether of milk;
For freely it came in the calm summer's noon,
While you munched to the time of the old milking croon.
But they racked and they ground me with tax and with rent,
Till my heart it was sore and my life-blood was spent:
To-day they have finished, and on the wild world
With the mocking of fiends from my home was I hurled.
I knelt down three times for to utter a prayer,
But my heart it was seared, and the words were not there;
Oh! Wild were the thoughts through my dizzy head came,
Like the rushing of wind through a forest of flame.
I bid you, old comrade, a long last farewell;
For the gaunt hand of famine has clutched us too well;
It severed the master and you, my good cow,
With a blight on my life and a brand on your brow.
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4. |
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5. |
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Seven days are in the week in almost every circumstance
And there's four seasons in the year, that’s what we learned at school
Ah, but never count your chickens when you're dealing with the women
For many's the wise man fell asleep and wakened up a fool.
The first time I met my love was on a Monday morning
And the second time I saw her was a Tuesday afternoon
When she kissed me on a Wednesday, I couldn't wait for Thursday
But I can tell you now, my boys, that Thursday never came.
Seven days are in the week in almost every circumstance
And there's four seasons in the year, that’s what we learned at school
Ah, but never count your chickens when you're dealing with the women
For many's the wise man fell asleep and wakened up a fool.
My love, she took the wintertime and turned it into springtime
I never thought that love could change the world so much before
I gave my heart and in return she promised me the summertime
But I can tell you now, my boys, that summer never came.
Seven days are in the week in almost every circumstance
And there's four seasons in the year, that’s what we learned at school
Ah, but never count your chickens when you're dealing with the women
For many's the wise man fell asleep and wakened up a fool.
Seven days are in the week in almost every circumstance
And there's four seasons in the year, that’s what we learned at school
Ah, but never count your chickens when you're dealing with the women
For many's the wise man fell asleep and wakened up a fool.
Words and Music by Colum Sands (Elm Grove Music)
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6. |
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Chorus:
Fuígfidh mise an baile seo mar tá sé dubhghránna
'S rachaidh mé go Connacht a nó siar go Laighean Uí Eára
An áit a bhfaighidh mé póg ó mo stór is míle fáilte
Sealbhán deas bó is cead mo phósadh ar a’ táilliúir.
A Mhuire, nach mé an truaí 's mé pósta ar a' sclábhaí
Nach ligeann amach 'un Aifrinn mé lá saoire nó Dé Domhnaigh
Nach dtigeadh go tigh a' leanna liom 's nach n-ólfadh gine óir liom
'S nach dteannfadh lena chroí mé mar dhéanfadh an buachaill óg liom.
Chorus
Thíos a chois na farraige atá mé féin 'mo chónaí
A' síordhéanamh lionndubh ó mhaidin go trathnóna,
Is mé ag smaoineamh ar mo stóirín a bhíodh í gconaí caint liom
'S ar chuala sibh mar seoladh mé go hóg a dhéanamh m'aimhlis?
Chorus
Pósadh go hóg mé mar gheall ar na puntaí
Lán mo dhá láimh is níor shásaigh 'riamh m'intinn
Nach trua nach dtig an reacht amach mar thiocfadh ar bha 's n'ar chaoirigh
An té nach dtaitneodh an margadh leis a sheoladh ar ais 'un aonaigh.
Ending Chorus
-----------
Chorus:
I will leave this town for it is dark and ugly
And go to Connacht or west to Laighean Uí Eára
The place where I'll get a kiss from my darling and a thousand welcomes
A nice herd of cows and permission to marry the tailor
Mary, aren’t I a pity and me married to the scoundrel
Who won't let me go to Mass on a holiday or a Sunday
Who won't take me to the pub, or drink a gold guinea with me
Or hold me in his heart as a young man would.
Chorus
Down by the sea shore is where I do reside
In constant misery from morning ’til night;
Thinking on my true love forever speaking to me,
Or have you ever heard how in my youth I was led astray?
Chorus
I was married off young for the promise of money
Taking only what belongings I could carry but my mind was not satisfied
Isn't it a pity I can't be rid of him as with a cow or sheep
If you don't like the bargain, you can take them back to the fair
Ending Chorus
(Thanks to Ciaran O’Gealbhain for help with the translation!)
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7. |
There Were Roses
06:30
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My song for you this evening, it's not to make you sad
Nor for adding to the sorrows of our troubled northern land
But lately I've been thinking and it just won't leave my mind
I'll tell you of two friends one time who were both good friends of mine
Isaac Scott from Benagh he lived just across the fields
A great man for the music and the dancing and the reels
McDonald came from South Armagh to court young Agnes fair,
And we'd often meet on the Ryan Road and laughter filled the air.
Refrain
There were roses, roses
There were roses
And the tears of a people ran together
Now Isaac he was Protestant and Sean was Catholic born
But it never made a difference, for the friendship it was strong
And sometimes in the evening when we heard the sound of drums
We said it won't divide us, we always will be one
For the ground our fathers plowed in the soil it is the same
And the places that we say our prayers have just got different names,
We talked about the friends who died and hoped there'd be no more I
t was little then we realized the tragedy in store.
It was on a Sunday morning when the awful news came round
Another killing had been done just outside Camlough Town
We knew that Isaac danced up there, we knew he liked the band
But when we heard that he was dead we just could not understand
We gathered at the graveside on a cold and rainy day
The minister he closed his eyes and for no revenge he prayed
And all of us who knew him from along the Ryan Road
We bowed our heads and we said a prayer for the resting of his soul.
Now fear it filled the countryside, there was fear in every home
When late at night a car came prowling round the Ryan Road
A Catholic would be killed tonight to even up the score
Oh Christ it's young McDonald they have taken from the door
“But Isaac was my friend” he cried, he begged them with his tears
But centuries of hatred have ears that cannot hear
An eye for an eye it was all that filled their mind
And another eye for another eye ‘til everyone is blind.
Now I don't know where the moral is or where this song should end
But I wonder just how many wars are fought between good friends
And those who give the orders They are not the ones to die
It's Scott and young McDonald and the likes of you and I
Words and music by Tommy Sands (Elm Grove Music)
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8. |
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9. |
The Mickey Dam
03:01
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I'm an honest Irish labourer and I come from the County Clare. Once I had a farm there with nothing much to spare.
But I had to sell my donkey and my famous billy goat,
And with the money I received, for Glasgow took the boat.
In the morning when I landed there, before my hair got dry,
I was started in the Mickey Dam in a place they call Mull Guy.
Now the ganger that I started with, they called him John the Mouse,
And the very first day that I was there, at me he made to grouse.
But I quickly surprised him and I said, "You little rat,
I'll tie a string around your neck and throw you to the cat."
For I'm as strong as any lion, I was reared on eggs and ham.
I'm a terror to all fighting men around the Mickey Dam.
Now this rose the Mouse's temper and at me he made to jump.
And he swore he'd paralyze me with the handle of a pump.
But I quickly surprised him and I caught him by the throat,
And I shook that little monkey ‘til the tail fell off his coat.
For I'm as strong as any lion, I was reared on eggs and ham.
I'm a terror to all fightin' men around the Mickey Dam.
Now the big hotel we're stopping in they call the navvies’ hut,
And the bugs and fleas that are in the beds are as big as coconuts.
On Friday night when I get there, I stand behind the door,
And as they come out, one by one, I bash them to the floor.
For I'm as strong as any lion, I was reared on eggs and ham.
I'm a terror to all fighting men around the Mickey Dam.
For I'm as strong as any lion, I was reared on eggs and ham. I
'm a terror to all fighting men around the Mickey Dam
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10. |
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11. |
Here I Am From Donegal
04:48
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Well here I am from Donegal
And I’m most discontented
For to see the way we’re all put down
Not highly represented
For it see it is a general rule
To make out Pat a knave or a fool
But never mind he’ll play it cool
And he’ll stand up for old Ireland
Refrain:
Give me justice, treat me fair
And I’ll not be discontented
And I’ll not be laughed at anywhere
But highly represented
When on the stage I do appear
With a thundering big shillelagh
And a ragged coat and tattered clothes
You would think I’d come out gaily
With not a word of common sense
They don’t care that they give offense
But they carry on at Pat’s expense
Just let they come to Ireland
Now Mr. Punch and his literature
He treats us very badly
And when he draws his caricature
He presents us very sadly
With crooked limbs and villainous face
He thus depicts the Irish race
We think it is a sad disgrace
And we say so in old Ireland
They say we are dirty and lazy got
But what’s the use to grumble
For if they should enter an Irish cot
They’re made welcome though it’s humble
And in public works the country round
Where ‘er hard work it is to be found
In the railway tunnels underground
You’ll find the boys from Ireland
Tis very true I like a glass
Of porter or of whisky
And I’m partial to a pretty lass
She’d make me feel quite frisky
I am very quiet when left alone
But I’ll defend what is me own
And woe be to the foes of home
Who would dare run down old Ireland
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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
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