A-Soalin‘ (© Trad)

Auch dieses ein Song der „Carollers“, die singend von Haus zu Haus zogen, um gute Wünsche zu Weihnachten und zum Jahreswechsel zu überbringen. Die so Beschenkten durften sich dafür mit kleinen Gaben jeglicher Art bedanken.

Hey ho, nobody home, meat nor drink nor money have I none
Yet shall we be merry, hey ho, nobody home
Meat nor drink nor money have I none
Yet shall we be merry, Hey ho, nobody home

Soal, soal, a soal cake, please good missus a soul cake
An apple, a pear, a plum, a cherry,
Any good thing to make us all merry
One for Peter, two for Paul, three for Him who made us all

God bless the master of this house, and the mistress also
And all the little children that round your table grow
The cattle in your stable and the dog by your front door
And all that dwell within your gates 
We wish you ten times more

Go down into the cellar and see what you can find
If the barrels are not empty we hope you will be kind
We hope you will be kind with your apple and strawber'
For we come no more a 'soalin' till this time next year

The streets are very dirty, my shoes are very thin
I have a little pocket to put a penny in
If you haven't got a penny, a ha' penny will do
If you haven't got a ha' penny then God bless you

Soal, a soal, a soal cake, please good missus a soul cake
An apple, a pear, a plum, a cherry
Any good thing to make us all merry
One for Peter, two for Paul, three for Him who made us all

Now to the Lord sing praises all you within this place
And with true love and brotherhood each other now embrace
This holy tide of Christmas, of beauty and of grace
Oh tidings of comfort and joy

Bheadh Buachaillin Deas Ag Síle (© Trad. Irish)

Bheadh buachaillín deas ag Síle dá bpósadh sí mé mar fhear.
Mharóinn an breac ar an taoide a's coinín ar an ndumhaigh chomh maith.
Ní iarfainn léi capall ná caoire, airgead buí ná geal
Mar go mb'fhearr liomsa agam mar mhnaoi í ná aon inion rí dá mhair.

Tá máthair gan taise ag Síle a's ní bhreathainn sí a croí rómhaith.
Tá sparán mór fada aici líonta ag lorg talamh gan cois le fear.
Chuma léi ard é nó íseal, ba chuma léi buí nó geal
O ba chuma léi cam é nó díreach ach a bheith aige caoire a's ba.

Ní mar sin mar mheasann mo Shíle, b'fhearr léi mise na míle fear
Mar is meadhrach sea sheinnfinn ar phíob di ‘s is greannta do rincfinn dreas.
Chuirfinnse i dtalamh na siolta a's bhainfinn arís thar n-ais
A's nuair a thiocfainnse abhaile ní bhruionnfainn ach ag reacaireacht grin le m' shearc.

Tá mo mhargadh socair le Síle a’s ní bhrisfeadh Éire ar fad.
Gan spléachas dá máthair na muintir rachaidh sí chun cinn gan stad.
Pósfainn sa chathair an mhí seo a’s an sagart a dhíol go maith,
Is ní dóichí go bhfanam sa tír seo ach ag reachtaireacht síos amach.

Translation:
Sheila would have a lovely man if she married me.
I'd kill the trout on the tide and the rabbit on the dune as well.
I wouldn't ask her for a horse or sheep or gold or silver,
Because I'd prefer to have her as my wife than any king's daughter that lives.
Sheila's mother has no compassion and not much feeling either.
She has a big purse filled, looking for a man with land.
She doesn't care if he's tall or short, of fair or dark complexion,
Straight or crooked, as long as he has sheep or cows.
That's not how my Sheila thinks, she'd rather me than any other,
Because I'd merrily play my pipes and do a lively dance for her.
I'd sow the seeds and reap them as well
And when I'd get home I wouldn’t but converse lightly with my love.
My deal is set with Sheila and nothing in the world will break it,
Without depending on her mother and family she'd be better off.
I'll marry her this month and pay the priest well
And I wouldn't stay in this country but roam happily around from here on.

Blackwaterside (© Trad. Irish)

             G         C        G
One evening fair as I took the air
      F C          G
Down by Blackwaterside
         C      G     C    G
'Twas a gazing all around me
         F  C          G
That the Irish lad I spied

All through the far part of the night
We did lie in sport and play
Then this young man arose
And gathered his clothes
Saying "Fare thee well today"

That's not the promise that you gave to me
As you lay upon my breast
You could make me believe
With your lying tongue
That the sun rose in the West

Go home, go home, to your father's garden
Go home and weep your fill
And think on your own misfortune
You brought with your want and will

There's not a girl in this whole wide world
As easily led as I
And when fishes do fly
And seas do run dry
It is then you'll marry I

Bonnie Ship The Diamond (© Trad. Irish/Andy Barnes)

The Diamond is a ship, my lads,
For the Davis Strait she's bound,
And the quay it is all garnished
With bonnie lassies round.
Cap-
tain sky.

And it's cheer up, my lads,
Let your hearts never fail,
For the bonnie ship, the Diamond,
Goes a-fishing for the whale

All along the quay at Peterhead
The lassies stand around
With their shawls all pulled about them
And their sad tears runnin' down
Oh don't you weep, my bonnie lass
Though you be left behind
For the rose will grow on Greenland's ice
Before we change our mind

And it's cheer up, my lads ...

Here's a health to "The Resolution"
And likewise "The Eliza Swan"
Here's a health to "The Battler Of Montrose"
And "The Diamond", ship of fame
We wear the trousers of the white
And the jackets of  the blue
When we return to Peterhead
We'll have sweethearts enoo

And it's cheer up, my lads ...

My soul has been torn from me and I am bleeding,
My heart it has been rent and I am crying,
All the beauty round me fades and I am screaming,
I am the last of the great whales and I am dying.

It'll be bright both the day and night
When the Greenland lads come home
With a ship that's full of oil, my lads
And money to our name
We'll make the cradles for to rock
And the blankets for to tear
And every lass in Peterhead
Sing "Hushabye, my dear"

And it's cheer up, my lads ...

X:4
T:Bonnie Ship The Diamond
C:Trad. Scottish
D:Kennedy/McAllister "Gathering Storms", Wolfstone "Half Tail"
B:Buchan/Hall "The Scottish Folksinger"
R:Song
M:4/4
K:Bm
A2|"Bm"B2B2F2G2|"A"A3GF2BB|"Bm"B2B2F2G2|"A"A4z2BB|
w: The Dia-mond is a ship, my lads, for the Da-vis Strait she's bound, And the
"Bm"B2B2F2G2|"A"A3GF2E2|"Bm"DE2"A"CD2|1 "Bm"B,4z2BB:|2 "Bm"B,4B,2C2|
w: quay it is all gar-nish-ed with bon-nie las-sies round. Cap-tain sky. And it's
|:"G"D4"A"C2C2|"Bm"B,4F2A2|"G"B4"A"FA3|"Bm"B4z2AB|
w: cheer up, my lads, let your hearts ne-ver fail, For the
"G"d2c2"A"B3A|"Bm"B2A2F2E2|1 "G"DE3"A"C2D2|"Bm"B,4z2:|2 "G"DE3 "F#m"C2D2|"A"E4z2 ||
w: bon-nie ship, the Dia-mond, goes a-fish-ing for the whale. fish-ing for the whale.

P:Interlude
C:Andy Barnes (Friendly Overtures)
D:Dubliners "25 Years Celebration", Wolfstone "Half Tail"
B:Campbell et al "The Dubliners Songbook"
K:A
Ae|"A"e2dc"D"d3e|"A"e6zA|"D"d3c"E"B3c|"A"A6A2|
w: My_ soul has been torn from me and I am bleed_ing, My
"A"e3c"D"d3e|"A"e6zA|"D"d3c"E"B4|"A"A6e>e|
w: heart it has been rent and I am cry-ing, All the
"A"e3e"D"f3d|"A"e6a2|"G"=g3f"A"e4|"D"f4z>AA>A|
w: beau-ty round me fades and I am scream-ing, I am the
"A"(ee)>c"D"d3e|"A"e6A2|"D"d3c"E"B4|"A"A6||
w: last_ of the great whales and I am dy-ing.

Botany Bay (© Trad. Irish)

Oh my name is Pat O'Leary
I'm a navvie lad from Cork
My boss she is a bastard 
I'm sick of her pacework
I'll sail to dear Australia 
The land so far away
So that's my fate
I'm going to emigrate
To the shores of Botany Bay

     D                       Bm
Farewell to your bricks and mortar
     G                  D
Farewell to your dirty lime
     D                      Bm
Farewell to your gang-with-ang-and-gang-planks
         A
And the hell with the over-time
         D               Bm
For the good ship Rag-a-muffin'
       G            D
She's lying at the quay
        Bm
For to take old Pat
         Bm
With a shovel on his back
         Bm       A      Bm  (A)
To the shores of Botany Bay

I'm on my way down to the quay
Where the ship at anchor lay
To command a gang of navvies
That they told me to engage
I thought I'd stop in for a drink
Before we sailed away
For to take that trip
On an emigrant ship
To the shores of Botany Bay

Farewell to your bricks and mortar ...

The boss came up this morning
And she said to me: Hello
If you don't mix your mortar right
I'm afraid you'll have to go
So I asked her for my wages
And demanded all my pay
And I told her straight
I was going to emigrate
To the shores of Botany Bay

Farewell to your bricks and mortar ...

And when I reach Australia
I'll go and dig for gold
There's plenty there for the digging of
Or so I have been told
Or else I'll go back to my trade
And a hundred bricks I'll lay
Before I've lived 
For an eight-hour shift
On the shores of Botany Bay

Farewell to your bricks and mortar ...

Bright Morning Star (© Trad.)

Ein "White Gospel". Der Jüngste Tag a capella aus voller Kehle besungen: "Day is a-breaking in my soul".

Bright morning star's arising
Bright morning star's arising
Bright morning star's arising
Day is a-breaking in my soul

Oh where are our dear mothers?
Oh where are our dear mothers?
Oh where are our dear mothers?
Day is a-breaking in my soul

They are down in the valley praying
They are down in the valley praying
They are down in the valley praying
Day is a-breaking in my soul

Oh where are our dear fathers?
Oh where are our dear fathers?
Oh where are our dear fathers?
Day is a-breaking in my soul

They have gone to heaven shouting
They have gone to heaven shouting
They have gone to heaven shouting
Day is a-breaking in my soul

Bright morning star's arising
Bright morning star's arising
Bright morning star's arising
Day is a-breaking in my soul

Christmas In An Old Man's Hat (© Trad.)

Oh mother dear, one Christmas day
Again I must complain
I wonder it is Santa Claus
For Christmas sake again
You see there's little Jenny Brown
She's kept so many things
Dolls and sweet and teddy bears
Clothes and golden rings

Christmas is coming and the goose is getting fat
Hey put a penny in the old man's hat
Light up the fire, the wind's blowing cold
Santa Claus is getting old

Oh mother, Jenny has so much
But still it's not enough
But little Peter down the road
Got none of all the stuff
He's cold and hungry can't you see
There's holes in both his shoes
No toys for him, no clothes and sweets
And no Christmas goods

Christmas is coming ...

Oh child, I understand you now
It seems it is not right
Some children live all in the dark
While others' homes are light
But Santa Claus is not to blame
A-pouring of his load
But Jenny Brown should simply share
With Peter down the road

Christmas is coming ...

The Dalesman's Litany (© Trad. English)

      Am        Dm          G          Am                          Capo IV
It's hard when folks can't find their work
       F            G        Am  Em
Where they've been bred and born
     Am     Dm      G       Am
When I was young I always thought
     F            G         Am
I'd bide amidst fruits and corn
     F         C         G       C
But I've been forced to work in towns
    Am            E
So here's my litany
      Am       Dm  G       Am
From Hull and Halifax and Hell
      F     G     Am  Em  Am  Em
Good Lord deliver me

When I was courting Mary Jane
The old Squire he says to me
I've got no rooms for wedded folks
Choose whether to go or to stay
I could not give up the girl I loved
So to town I was forced to flee
From Hull and Halifax and Hell
Good Lord deliver me

I've worked in Leeds and Huddersfield
And on some honest brass
In Bradford, Keighley, Rotterham
I've kept my bairns and lass
I've travelled all three Ridings round
And once I went to sea
From forges, mills and coaling boats
Good Lord deliver me

I've walked at night through Sheffield lanes
T'was just like being in Hell
Where furnaces thrust out tongues of fire
And roared like the wind on the fell
I've shovelled coals in Barnsley pits
With muck up to my knee
From Barnsley, Sheffield, Rotterham
Good Lord deliver me

But now that all our children have gone
To the country we've come back
There's forty miles of heathery moor
'Twixt us and the coal pits slack
And as I sit by the fire at night
I laugh and shout with glee
From Hull and Halifax and Hell
The Good Lord delivered me.

From Barnsley, Sheffield, Rotterham
Good Lord deliver me

From Hunslet, Holbeck, Wibsley Slack
Good Lord deliver me

From forges, mills and coaling boats
Good Lord deliver me

Dol-li-a (Trad. Northumbria)

A children's song from Northumbria, dealing with a subject hardly suitable for children: Little Dolly running after the soldiers' uniforms. We play it in the "head-banger" version.

 Bm ...
It's fresh I come down Sandgate Street, Dol-li, Dol-li
My best friends is here to meet, Dol-li-a

 G  F#m    Bm ...
Dol-li de-dillen-dol, Dol-li, Dol-li
Dol-li de-dillen-dol, Dol-li-a

Dolly Coxon's pawned her shirt, Dol-li, Dol-li
To ride upon a baggage cart, Dol-li-a

The green cuffs have gone away, Dol-li, Dol-li
That'll be a crying day, Dol-li-a

The black cuffs are coming in, Dol-li, Dol-li
And that'll make the lasses sing, Dol-li-a

X:7
T:Dol-li-a
C:Trad. Northumbrian
D:Whisky Priests "Nee Gud Luck"
R:Song
M:C
K:Bm
|"Bm"BBcd ecB2|def2 def2|"Bm"BBcd ecB2|def2 B4|
|:"G"g2"F#m"f2 "Bm"fdB2|"G"de"F#m"f2 "Bm"def2|"G"g2"F#m"f2 "Bm"fdB2|"G"de"F#m"f2 "Bm"B4:|

Donkey Riding (© )

 F    C     F      C
Way, hey, away we go,
 Am     G       Am     G 
Donkey riding, donkey riding
 F    C     F      C
Way, hey, away we go,
 Am    Em    Am 
Riding on a donkey

 Am          C      G
Was you ever in Quebec,
Launching timber on the deck
Where you break your bleeding neck
 Am    Em    Am
Riding on a donkey

Was you ever round Cape Horn,
Where the weather's never warm.
You wish to God you'd never been born
Riding on a donkey

Was you ever in Miramashee,
Where you tie up to a tree,
And the girls sit on your knee
Riding on a donkey

Was you ever in Mobile Bay,
Screwing cotton all the day
A dollar a day is Paddy's pay
Riding on a donkey

Was you ever in Broomilaw,
Where the yanks are all the go
And the boys dance heel and toe
Riding on a donkey

Was you ever in Liverpool Bay,
See the Judy shout hooray,
Here comes Tommy with his ten months' pay
Riding on a donkey

The Galway Races (© Trad. Irish)

   G
As I roved out  to Galway town to seek for recreation
        Em             C         D           G
On the seventeenth of August my mind was elevated
            G          D                     C                G
There were multitudes assembled with their tickets at the station
        Em                           D                G
And my eyes began to dazzle as they goin' to see the races
         Em            D          Em
With me whack fol the do fol the diddle idle day

There were passengers from Limerick and passengers from Nenagh
And passengers from Dublin and the sportsmen from Tipp'rary
There were passengers from Kerry and all the quarters of the nation
And our member, Mr. Hasset, for to join the Galway Blazers
With me whack ...

There were multitudes from Aran and members from New Quay shore
The boys from Connemara and the Clare unmarried maidens
There were people from Cork city who were loyal, true and faithful
That brought home Fenian prisoners from dying in foreign nations
With me whack ...

It's there you'll see the pipers and the fiddlers competing
The nimble-footed dancers and they tripping on the daisies
There were others crying "Cigars and lights and bills of all the races
With the colours of the jockeys and the prize and horses' ages"
With me whack ...

It's there you'd see the jockeys and they mounted on most stately
The pink, the blue, the orange, the green, all the colours of our nation
When the bell was rung for starting all the horses seemed impatient
I thought they never stood on ground, their speed was so amazing
With me whack ...

There was half a million people there of all denominations
The Catholic, the Protestant, the Jew, the Presbytarian
There was yet no animosity, no matter what persuasion
But failte and hospitality inducing fresh acquaintance
With me whack ...

Inis Dhun Ramha (© Trad. Irish)

X:11
T:Inis Dhun Ramha
N:Inis Dhun Ramha (ft. Paidin O Raifeartaig)
C:Trad. Irish
D:Na Fili on "Collector Series: Best Of Irish Folk"
R:Song
K:D
M:6/8
D|F2F EFG|A>BA GEC|D2D EFE|
w: A Ri na cruin-ne gan me 's tu nIor-ras no thiar in In-is Dhun
M:9/8
=C3 (D3 D2)E|
w: Ra-mha_ Ar
M:6/8
F2F EFG|A>BA GEC|D2D EFE|
w: bhruach na Fin-ne le taobh_ na tin-ne ag fea-chaint loin-gig thar
M:9/8
D>ED (D3 D2)E|
w: sai__ le_ Da
M:6/8
F2G ABc|d2d cAG|F2F FGA|
w: mheid ar dtuirse 's gan aoi-neach a-gainn ach geag an duil-liur ar
M:9/8
G2E (D3 D2)D/E/|
w: sa_ bhail_ 'Se_
M:6/8
F>EF EFG|A>BA GEC|D2D EFE|
w: deir-feadh gach dui-ne gur lach_ ar nim-eacht mar d'ea-laigh Diar-muid le
M:9/8
D>ED (D3 D2)||
w: Grain__ ne_

The Irish Rover (© Trad. Irish)

        C                                      F
In the year of the Lord, eighteen hundred and six
        C                          G
We set sail from the Coal Quay of Cork
         C                             F
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
          C         G           C
For the grand City Hall in New York
       C                        G
Was a wonderful craft, she was rigged 'fore and aft
     C                      G
And oh how the wild winds drove her
          C                                        F
She had twenty three masts and she stood several blasts
          C                    G C
And they called her the Irish Rover

There was Barney Magee from the banks of the Lee
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Johnny McGurk who was scared stiff of work
And a chap from Westmeath called Malone
There was Slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule
And Fightin' Bill Tracy from Dover
And your man Mick McCann from the banks of the bann
Was the skipper on the Irish Rover

For a sailor it's always a bother in life
It's so lonesome by night and by day
When he longs for the shore and a charming young whore
Who will melt all his troubles away
All the noise and the rout swillin' poitin and stout
For him soon is done and over
Of the love of a maid he is never afraid
That ould salt from the Irish Rover

We had sailed seven years when the measels broke out
And the ship lost its way in a fog
And the whole of the crew was reduced down to two
Just myself and the captain's old dog
Then the ship struck a rock, o Lord, what a shock
The boat it was turned right over
It turned nine times around then that poor old dog was drowned
I'm the last of the Irish Rover

X:13
T:Irish Rover
R:Song
M:C
K:C
GE|"C"C,EF G2cd|e2dB "F"c2BA|"C"G2AG E2FE|"G"D6 GE|
GE|"C"C,EF G2cd|e2dB "F"cBA|"C"G2 AF "G"E2FD|"C"C6 GG|
"C"c2cd e2dc|"G"dd2B G3G|"C"c3d e2c2|"G"(d>edB) G2GE|
"C"C,EF G2cd|e2dc "F"A2DE|"C"C2EG c2e2|"G"d4 "C"c4||

I Wish My Love Was a Red Red Rose (© Trad. Irish)

D G D G

   D                  A
I wish my love was a red red rose
                G      D
Growing in yon garden fair
    D            G    D
And I to be the gardener 
    D                A
Of her I would take care
         D                  G       D
There's not a month throughout the year
     D              A
That my love I'd renew
     D                 A
I'd garnish her with flowers fine
                G         D
Sweet William, Thyme and Rue

I wish I was a butterfly
I'd light on my love's breast
And if I was a blue cuckoo
I'd sing my love to rest
And if I was a nightingale
I'd sing the daylight clear
I'd sit and sing with you Molly
For once I loved you dear

I wish I was in Dublin Town
And seated on the grass
In my right hand a jug of punch
And on my knee a lass
I'd call for liquor freely
And I'd pay before I'd go
I'd roll my Molly in my arms
Let the wind blow high or low

John Barleycorn (© Trad. Irish Arr. Kavana)




Johnnie Cope (© Trad. Scottish/Interlude: WB Yeats)

      Em
Jock sent a letter to Dunbar
      D                Bm
Come fight me Charlie when ye daur
      G         D       G       D
It's I'll learn ye the arts of war
        Em      D           Em
If you meet me here in the morning"

When Charlie read the letter upon
He drew his sword its scabbard from
Sayin' follow me my merry men
We'll meet Johnnie Cope in the morning

 G
Hey Johnnie Cope are ye walkin yet?
And are ye drums a-beating yet?
If you were walking I would wait
For to gang to the coals in the morning

Come now Johnnie be as good's your word
And let us try both gun and sword
Dinna flee like a frightened bird
That's gone for his nest in the morning
When Johnnie Cope he heard of this
He said to himself it widna be amiss
When I saddle my horse in readiness
To flee away in the morning

Hey Johnnie Cope ...

Bye now Johnnie get up and rin
The Heiland bagpipes make a din
It's better to sleep with a hale of skin
For it will be a bloody morning
When Johnnie Cope to Berwick came
They speired at him "Where's a' ye men"
The deil confound me I dinna ken
I left them all in the morning

Hey Johnnie Cope ...

Too long a sacrifice Can make a stone of the heart
O when may it suffice? That is Heaven's part, our part
To murmur name upon name, As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come On limbs that had run wild
What is it but nightfall? No, not night but death;
And was it needless death after all? ...
For now and in time to be, Wherever PLAID is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly: 
A terrible beauty is born.

Come now Johnnie you were not plait
To come with the news of your own defeat
And leave your men in sic a state
So early in the morning
In faith, quote Johnnie, I got sic flegs
With their Claymores and filabegs
If I face them deil break my legs
So I wish you all a good morning

Hey Johnnie Cope ...

X:12
T:Johnnie Cope
C:Trad. Scottish
D:Ewan MacColl "The Jacobite Rebellions", Planxty "Cold Wind And Rainy Night", Tannahill Weavers "4"
B:Frank "", Loesberg "Traditional Folksongs & Ballads Popular of Scotland"
R:Song
M:C
K:Em
D2|"Em"E2E2G2A2|B2E2E4|"D"D2D2F2G2|"Bm"A2D2 D4|
"G"G2G2"D"A2A2|"G"B2d2"D"F4|"Em"E2E2"D"F2D2|"Em"E4E4||
"G"G2G2G2G2|G2B2d4|"D"A2A2A2A2|"Bm"A2B2A4|
"G"G2G2"D"A2A2|"G"B2d2"D"F4|"Em"E2E2"D"F2D2|"Em"E4E4||

The Lakes of Pontchartrain (© Trad. American)

C Em Am G F    C
C Em Am G Am C F
C Em Am G Am C F
C Em Am G F    C

It was one fine March morning I bid New Orleans adieu,
And I took the road to Jackson town, my fortune to re-new,
I cursed all foreign  money no credit could I gain,
Which filled my heart with long ing for the lakes of Pontchartrain.

I stepped on board of a railroad car beneath the morning sun
I rode the rods till evening and I laid me down again
All strangers there no friends to me till a dark girl towards me came
And I fell in love with a Creole girl by the lakes of Pontchartrain

I said "Me pretty Creole girl, me money here's no good
If it weren't for the alligators, I'd sleep out in the wood"
"You're welcome here, kind stranger, from such sad thoughts refrain
And we never turned a stranger out on the banks of Pontchartrain"

She took me into her Mammy's house, and treated me right well
The hair upon her shoulders in jet black ringlets fell
To try and paint her beauty, I'm sure 'twould be in vain
So handsome was my Creole girl by the lakes of Pontchartrain

I asked her if she'd marry me, she said that ne'er could be
For she had got a lover and he was far at sea
She said that she would wait for him and true she would remain
Till he'd return to his Creole girl on the lakes of Portchartrain

It's fare thee well, me Creole girl, I never may see you more
I'll won't forget your kindness in the cottage by the shore
And at each social gathering, a flowing glass I'll drain
And I'll drink a health to my Creole girl by the lakes of Pontchartrain

X:13
T:Lakes of Pontchartrain, The
C:Trad. American
D:Paul Brady "Welcome Here Kind Stranger", Deanta "Ready for the Storm", Christy Moore "Time Has Come", Planxty "Cold Blow And rainy Night"
B:Connolly "The Christy Moore Songbook"
R:Song
M:3/4
K:C
C|"C"C2A "Em"G2G/A/|"Am"EDG "G"E2D|"F"CA,>G, C2C|"C"C3 z2G|
w: It was one fine March_ mor__ ning I bid New Or-leans a-dieu, And
"C"G2E "Em"GAB|"Am"c3 "G"B2G/A/|"Am"E2D "C"EFG|"F"A3 z2G|
w: I took the road to Jackson town, my_ for-tune to_ re-new, I
"C"G2E "Em"GAB|"Am"c2c "G"B2G/G/|"Am"E2D "C"EFG|"F"A3 z2C/C/|
w: cursed all fo_ reign  mo_ ney no_ cre-dit could_ I gain, Which_
"C"C2A "Em"G2G/A/|"Am"EDG "G"E2D/D/|"F"CA,G, C2C|"C"C3|
w: filled my heart with_ long_ ing for the_ lakes of_ Pont-char-train.

Lannigan's Ball (© )

In the town of Athy one Jeremy Lannigan
Battered away till he hadn't a shilling
His father he died and made him a man again
Left him a farm and ten acres of ground
He gave a grand party to friends and relations
Who did not forget him when come to the wall
If you'll but listen, I'll make your eyes glisten
At the rows and ructions of Lannigan's ball

Six long months I spent in Dublin
Six long months doin' nothing at all
Six long months I spent in Dublin
Learning to dance for Lannigan's ball
Six long months I spent in Dublin
Six long months doin' nothing at all
Six long months I spent in Dublin
Learning to dance for Lannigan's ball

I to be sure got free invitations
For all the nice boys and girls I might ask
And just in a minute both friends and relations
Were dancing as merry as bees round a cask
There were lashings of punch and wine for the ladies
Potatoes and cakes, there was bacon and tea
There were the Nolans, Dolans, O'Grady's
Courting the girls and dancing away

They were doing all kinds of nonsensical polkas
All round the room in a neat whirligig
But Julia and I soon banished their nonsense
And tipped them a twist of a real Irish jig
Yeah, how the girls they really got mad on me
And danced till you'd think that the ceilings would fall
For I spent three weeks at Brook's Academy
Learning to dance for Lannigan's ball

The boys were as merry, the girls all hearty
Dancing away in couples and groups
Till an accident happened, young Terence McCarthy
He put his right leg through Miss Finerty's hoops
The creature she fainted and cried: Holy murther
Called for her brothers and gathered them all
Ned Carmody swore that he'd go no further
Till he'd have revenge at Lannigan's ball

 [ In the midst of the row, Miss Kerrigan fainted
   Her cheeks at the same time as red as a rose
   Some of the boys decried she was painted
   She took a small drop to much I suppose
   Her sweetheart Ned Morgan, so powerful and able
   When he saw his fair colleen stretched by the wall
   He tore the left leg from under the table
   And smashed all the dishes at Lannigan's ball ]

Boys, oh boys, 'tis then there was ructions
I got a kick from big Phelim McHugh
But soon I replied to his kind introduction
And kicked up a terrible hullabaloo
O'Casey the piper was near being strangled
They squeezed up his pipes, bellows, chanters and all
The girls in their ribbons they all got entangled
Yeah, that put an end

X:14
T:Lannigan's Ball
N:Lannigans Ball (Jig) / Lannigan's Ball (Song, ft. Walkin' Tom's Jig)
C:Trad. Irish
D:Christy Moore "Time has Come"
B:Loesberg "Folksongs & Ballads Popular in Ireland", Connolly "The Christy Moore Songbook"
R:Song
M:6/8
K:C
G,|"Am"A,B,A, C2D|E2D E^FG|"G"G,A,G, B,2C|DED DB,G,|
"F"A,B,A, C2D|E2D E^FG|"F"AGE "G"FED|"Am"ECA, A,2:|
G|"F"A2B cBc|"G"Adc BAG|"F"A2B cBc|"G"BGE E2 G|
"F"A2B cBc|"G"Adc BAG|"F"AGE "G"FED|"Am"ECA, A,2:|

Lark in the Morning (Trad.)

In the town of Derry, there once was a condom machine which bore the company's reassuring statement, "British standard guaranteed". Underneath it a graffiti read: "That's what they said about the Titanic, too!" - The lyrics of this ballad originated in England, while the tune stems from the North of Ireland. The jig, which bears the same title, stimulates the imagination: "Close your eyes and imagine the morning air, cool and refreshing. The lark waking early to greet the day. She raises her sleepy head from the nest, she is wheeling and gliding about on the wind, perhaps hunting the proverbial worm. She is taking her bath in sandy soil or water, shaking and ruffling her feathers. A real story within a tune." (B. Callaghan)

     Dm                      C             Am
The lark in the morning she rises off her nest
     Dm                           Dm     C       Dm
She goes off in the air with the dew all on her breast
     Dm                            C               Am
And like the jolly ploughboy she whistles and she sings
     Dm                           Dm     C       Dm
She goes off in the air with the dew all on her wings

Oh Roger the ploughboy he is a dashing blade
He goes whistling and singing over yonder leafy shade
He met with dark haired Susan, she's handsome I declare
And she is far more enticing than the birds up in the air

The lark in the morning ...

One evening when they're coming from the rakes of the town
The meadows bein' all mown and the grass had been cut down
As she should chance to stumble all on the new mown hay
Oh it's kiss me now or never, then this bonnie lass did say

The lark in the morning ...

When twenty long weeks, they were over and were past
Her mammy asked the reason why she thickened round the waist
It was the jolly ploughboy, this bonnie lass did say
He caused me for to tumble all on the new mown hay

The lark in the morning ...

Here's a health to you ploughboys wherever you may be
That like to have a bonnie lass a-sitting on each knee
With a pint of good strong porter, you'll whistle and you'll sing
And the ploughboy is as happy as a bird upon the wing

The lark in the morning ...

X:15
T:Lark in the Morning
N:Lark in the Morning (Song & Jig)
C:Trad. English/Irish
D:Deoch an Dorais "Calliope", Kennedy/MacAllister "Gathering Storms"
B:Loesberg "Folksongs & Ballads Popular in Ireland"
R:Song
M:2/4
K:Dm
A|"Dm"A3G A3=B|c4 c3A|"C"G3A G3E|"Am"C4 D3E|
"Dm"F3E F3G|A3c A3G|F3D "C"E3C|"Dm"D4 z2d2|
"Dm"d3D D3D|d4 c3A|"C"G3A G3E|"Am"C4 D3E|
"Dm"F3E F3G|A3c A3G|F3D "C"E3C|"Dm"D4 z2|]

A Man You Don't Meet Every Day (© Trad.)

Oh my name is Jock Stewart, I'm a canny gun man
And a rovin' young fellow I've been
So be easy and free when you're drinkin' with me
I'm a man you don't meet every day

I have acres of land, I have men at command
I have always a shilling to spare
So be easy and free when you're drinkin' with me
I'm a man you don't meet every day

So come fill up your glasses of brandy and wine
Whatever it costs I will pay
So be easy and free when you're drinkin' with me
I'm a man you don't meet every day

Well, I took out my gun and him I did shoot
All down in the County Kildare
So be easy and free when you're drinkin' with me
I'm a man you don't meet every day

So come fill up your glasses of brandy and wine
Oh whatever it costs I will pay
So be easy and free when you're drinkin' with me
I'm a man you don't meet every day 
So be easy and free when you're drinkin' with us
We're a band you don't meet every day

Moll Dubh (Trad.)

"There's not a handsome youth from Dublin to Galway that's not heading for the glen, hoping to win the dark maid's affection... ." - A trifling love-song, so? Or could the "Dark Moll" be a synonym for illegally-distilled whiskey, or poitín, as Donegal folk lore has it? (Cf. also Frank O'Connor's short story, "The Majesty of the Law"!). In fact, a pinch of the Celtic vernacular language may prove helpful for visitors to Ireland, as linguistic guerillas tend to paint over signpost which bear English-language place names instead of the official Irish ones (It is even said that an envisaged removal of all road signs was intended to thwart any German plans of invading Ireland in World War II).

X:4
T:Moll Dhubh a'Ghleanna
R:Song
D:Altan, "The Red Crow"
P:Intro
M:2/4
L:1/8
K:D major
%
V:V1 clef=treble
V:V2 clef=treble
%
[V:V1] "D"{e}f2 "A/C#"e>c | "Bm"d/c/B "A"{B}c>A | "Em7"{A}B4| -B4 | "G"-B4 | -B2 "A"-B2 | "D"d2 "A/C#"c>A | "Bm"B/A/G "A"A>F |
[V:V2] z4 | z4 | z4 | z4 | z4 | z4 | {A}B2 A>F | G/F/E F>D |
%
[V:V1] "Em7"G4 | -G2 F/G/G/F/ | "G"G4 | z2 A/B/d/e/ | "Asus4"d4 | -d2-d>c | "A"A4 | -A4 | "Asus4"d4 |-d2-d>c |"A"A4 | "G"z2 "A"z2 ||
[V:V2] E4| -E4 | -E4 | -E2 z2 | B4 | -B4 | A4 | -A4 | [f4B4] | -[f4B4] | [e4A4] | -[e4A4] ||
%
P:Verse/Chorus
M:2/4
L:1/8
V:V1 clef=treble
[V:V1] "D"D4 | "Bm/F#"d3c | "G"B>c "(A)"B>A | "D/F#"F3A | "G"B3c | d>e dc | "G"B>c "A"BA | "D"F3 d>c |
[V:V1] "G"B>c "A"BA | "D"F3 "A/C#"E | "Bm"D>E "A"Fd | "G"{A}B3 D/E/ | "D"F2 "G"B>A | "Bm"F2 "A"E2 | "G"D4 | "D"-D4 ||
%
P:Interlude/Ending
M:2/4
L:1/8
K:D major
V:V1 clef=treble
V:V2 clef=treble
%
[V:V1] A/B/c/d/ e/c/d/e/ || "D"{e}f2 "A/C#"e>c | "Bm"d/c/B "A"{B}c>A | "G"B/A/G "F#m"A>F | "Em"E4 | -E4 | -"Em"E2 "F#m"-E2 | "G"-E2 "A"-E2 ||
[V:V2] z4 || d2c>A | B/A/G A>F | G/F/E F>D | B,4 | -B,4 | -B,4 | -B,4 ||

Newry Highwayman (© )

Eine unter vielen Titeln bekannte Moritat über einen Straßenräuber des 18. Jhds., der unter dem Galgen auf sein Leben zurückblickt. "Unrecht Gut gedeihet nicht!" Jedenfalls wenn man schlicht und simpel Kutschen ausraubt. Es soll ja noch ganz andere Straßenräuber in durchaus gehobenen Positionen geben.

          G           D        G
In Newry Town I was bread and born,
              D          C       G
In Stephans Green now I lie in scorn,
             C                    Bm
I served me time at a saddler's trade,
  G         C       G
I always a roving blade,
  G         D       G
I always a roving blade.

At seventeen I took a wife,
I loved her dearer than I loved me life.
And so to keep her both fine and gay,
I went out robbing on the King's highway.
I went out robbing on the King's highway.

I never robbed a poor man yet,
Or lately caused anyone to fret.
But I robbed Lords and Ladies fine.
And carried the gold home to me heart's delight.
I carried the goid home to me heart's delight.

In Covent Garden I made my way,
With my dear wife for to see the play,
The Fielding's men there did me pursue,
And I was taken by that cursed crew,
Oh I was taken by that cursed crew.

My father cried oh me darling son,
My wife she cried now I'm undone,
My mother tore her grey iocks and cried,
It's in the cradle I should have died,
It's in the cradle I should have died.

When I am dead I want for my grave,
A flashy funeral pray let me have.
Six highway men for to carry me,
Oh give them broad swords and sweet liberty.
Oh give them broad swords and sweet liberty.

The Night that Paddy Murphy Died (Trad.)

         D                Bm               G          A      D
Oh, the night that Paddy Murphy died is a night I'll never forget
 D                    Bm                    G               A
Some of the boys got loaded drunk and they ain't got sober yet
    D                    Bm                  G       A       D
As long as a bottle was passed around every man was feeling gay
   D                   Bm           G            A
O'Leary came with the bagpipes the music for to play

 D                Bm             G              A
That's how they showed their respect for Paddy Murphy
 D                Bm          G                 A
That's how they showed their honour and their pride
      D             Bm                      G              A
They said it was a sinner's shame and they winked at one another
     D      A            G        D        Bm        A      D
And every drink in the place was full the night Pat Murphy died

As Mrs. Murphy sat in the corner pouring out her grief
Kelly and his gang came tearing down the street
They went into an empty room and a bottle of whiskey stowed
And put that bottle with the corpse to keep that whiskey cold

About two o'clock in the morning after emptying the jug
Doyle rose up the icebox lid to see for Paddys mug
It stopped the clock so Mrs. Murphy couldn't tell the time 
And at a quarter after two, we argued it was fine

Oh, they stopped the hearse out on Georgia Street outside Sundance Saloon
They all went in at half past eight and staggered out at noon 
                                              A
They went up to the graveyard so holy and sublime
                                      A
Found out when they got there they'd left the corpse behind

The Night Visit (Trad.)

Before the advent of television, the favourite pastime of adolescent boys consisted in attending the village beauties in their bedchambers at night. In this, real mastery could be achieved due to the fact that the night visitees would ordinarily be living under the same roof as their parents. However, with modern housing schemes on the rise this ancient custom is becoming virtually extinct.

    Dm               C                  Dm              C
And who are you me pretty fair maid and who are you me honey
    Dm               C                  Dm              C
And who are you me pretty fair maid and who are you me honey
     Dm                C          Am              C
She answered me quiet modestly: I am me mother's darling
         Dm       C                  Am                 C     Dm
With me tooriya, fold de diddle da, dire fol de diddle dairie oh

She said "Will you come to me mother's house
When the sun is shining clearly"
"Oh, will you come to me mother's house
When the sun is shining clearly"
"I'll open the door and I'll let you in
And divil a one would hear us"

So I went to her house in the middle of the night
When the moon was shining clearly
So I went to her house in the middle of the night
When the moon was shining clearly
She opened the door and she let me in
And divil the one did hear us

She took me horse by the bridle and the bit
And she led him to the stable
She took me horse by the bridle and the bit
And she led him to the stable
"There's plenty of oats for a soldier's horse
To eat them if he's able"

Then she took me by her lily-white hand
And she led me to the table
Then she took me by her lily-white hand
And she led me to the table
"There's plenty of wine for a soldier boy
To drink it if you're able"

Then she got up and she made the bed
And she made it nice and aisy
Then she got up and she made the bed
And she made it like a lady
Then I got up and I laid her down
Saying "Lassie, are you able?"

And there we lay till the break of day
And divil a one did hear us
And there we lay till the break of day
And divil a one did hear us
Then I arose and put on me clothes
Saying "Lassie, I must leave you"

She said "And when will you return again
And when will we get married"
"And when will you return again
And when will we get married"
I said "When broken shells make Christmas bells
We might well get married"

And who are you me pretty fair maid  ...

X:18
T:Night Visit, The
N:The Night Visit / Earl of Mansfield / Keadue Polka
C:Trad. Irish
D:Deoch an Dorais "Calliope", Planxty "Well Below The Valley", Scatter The Mud "In the Müd"
B:Loesberg "Folksongs & Ballads Popular in Ireland", Connolly "The Christy Moore Songbook"
R:Song
M:C
K:Dm
G2|"Dm"A2A2 D3D|"C"EF ED C3C|"Dm"D2D2 F3G|"C"A2G4 G2|
w: And who are you me pret-ty fair_ maid and who are you me honey, And
"Dm"A2A2 D3D|"C"EF ED C3C|"Dm"D2D2 F3G|"C"A2G4 G2|
w: who are you me pret-ty fair_ maid and who are you me honey, She
"Dm"A2d2 d2cd|"C"e2d2 c3A|"Am"c3c c3C|"C"E2G2 c2=B2|
w: ans-wered me quiet_ mo-dest-ly: I am me moth-er's dar-ling, With me
"Dm"A2A2 D4|"C"EF ED C4|"Am"c2c2 EF ED|"C"E2 C2 "Dm"D4|
w: too-ri-ya, fold de did-dle da, di-re fol de did-dle dai-rie oh.

Nil 'na La (© )

X:5
T:N\'ilna L\'a
R:Song
C:Ireland
D:Solas, "Solas" (1996)
M:4/4
L:1/8
Q:1/4=320
K:G major
P:Intro
"D"DFAd AFDF | AdAF DFAd | "(G)"DEGd GEDE | GDEG dGFE |
"(Bm)"DFAd AFDF | AdAF DFAd | "Bm/D"DEG"G"d GED"A"E | GDEG dGFE ||
P:Verse
"D"F2AA-A2 AA | "Dsus4(/G)"GB3 B2B>B | "(Bm/)D"F3ED2DE | "G/D"F3D "A/D"ED2z |
w:1.~T\'a na caoi-* righ ag ithe an gheamh-air, a's t\'a na gamh-na ag \'ol an bhain-ne.
"D(/F#)"F2AA-A2 A2 | "G"G2BB-B3z | "Bm"FFE2DD (DE) | "G"F2FD "A"E"(cont. v.2)"D2 z |:\
w:Pr\'a-ta\'i s\'ios_ gan d\'io-la-ch\'an,_ 's~dui-ne gan mheabh-air, nach ragh-f\'a a-bhai-le?
"(Harmony Vocals)"[D8F8] | [D8G8] | [B,8F8] |1 [G,4B4] [A,4c4] |2 [G,4B4] [A,4A4] :|
w: Ah,____ (Ah)._
P:Chorus
"D"[D3F3][B,F][A,3F3]z | "G/E"[D2G2][DG][DG]-[D2G2]z2 |\
w:N\'il-na l\'a, t\'a-na l\'a;*
"Bm"[F3A3][AF] ([GB][F2A2])[EB] | "G"-[E2B2][D2A2] "A"[FB][A3d3] |
w:n\'il-na l\'a,* t\'a_ ar mai-din.
"D"[D3F3][B,F][A,3F3]z | "G/E"[D2G2][DG][DG]-[D2G2]z2 |\
w:N\'il-na l\'a, t\'a-na l\'a;* 
"Bm/D"[F2A2] [A2d2] "G"[F2A2] [A2d2] | "A"[E3B3][EB] [EB][DA]z2 |]
w:'s~bean a r\'a, is \'i ar fha-ga.
P:Interlude
"G/D"D3B,A,2B,2 | "Bm"D3ED3z | "Em"G3FE2(DE) | F2(ED) "A"FA-A2 |
"D"D3B,A,2B,2 | "G"D3ED3z | "Bm"{E}F2A2 "G"{E}F2A2 | "A"E3F ED z2 |]
W:
W:2. Is deas an bhean í Siobhán óg,
W:Gúna nua uirthi aníos ón siopa.
W:A's breathnaim ar mo ghine óir,
W:'s é a' rince ar an mbord leis an phoc ar buile.
W:
W:3. Don't send me out into the dark, 
W:The night is cold and I'll be perished;
W:But come to bed with me a while,
W:We'll have a roll around the blankets.
W:
W:4. Buailim suas, buailim síos,
W:'s buailim cleamhan ar bhean a' leanna.
W:Cuirim gine óir ar an mbord,
W:'s bím ag ól anseo go maidin.
W:
W:5. Tá mo bhróga i dtigh an óil,
W:A's tá mo stocaí i ditgh a' leanna.
W:Tá na coiligh go léir ag glaoch
W:'s b'éigean domsa a' dhul abhaile.

Óró Sé Do Bheatha 'Bhaile (© ??)

Óró! sé do bheatha 'bhaile!
Óró! sé do bheatha 'bhaile!
Óró! sé do bheatha 'bhaile!
Anois ar theacht an tsamhraidh

Sé do, bheatha! a, bhean ba léanmhar
B' é ár greach tú bheith i ngéibheann
Do dhuiche bhreá i seilibh méirleach
'S tú díolta leis na Ghallaibh

Óró! sé do bheatha 'bhaile! ...

Tá Gráinne Mhaol á triall thar sáile
Óglaigh armtha léi mar gharda
Gaeil iad féin 's ní Gaill na Spáinnigh
'S cuirfid(h) ruaig ar Ghallaibh

Óró! sé do bheatha 'bhaile! ...

A bhuí le Dia na bhFeart go bhfeiceam
Muna mbeam beo' na dhiaidh ach seachtain
Grainne Mhaol agus míle gaiscíoch
Ag fógairt fáin ar Ghallaibh

Óró! sé do bheatha 'bhaile! ...


X:18
T:Oro Se Do Bheatha 'Bhaile
R:Song
M:2/4
L:1/8
K:Am
A4|A2GA|B2A2|G2E2|G4|G2GG|G2D2|E2G2|A4|A2GA|B2A2|B2(d2|d2)d2|e2B2|d2B2|A4|A4||

The Raggle Taggle Gipsies (© Trad. Irish)

       Bm
Three gipsies stood at the castle gate
              A         F#m
They sang so high, they sang so low
     A    Bm        F#m      G
The lady sat in her chamber late
     Bm       A       Bm
Her heart it melted away as snow

They sang so sweet, they sang so shrill
That fast her tears began to flow
And she laid down her silken gown
Her golden rings and all her show

She plucked off her high-heeled shoes
A-made of spanish leather, O
She went in the street with her bare, bare feet
All out in the wind and the weather, O

O saddle me my milk-white steed
And go and fetch my pony, O
That I may ride and seek my bride
Who's gone with the raggle taggle gipsies, O

O he rode high and he rode low
He rode through wood and copses, too
Until he came to an open field
And there he a-spied his lady, O

What makes you leave your house and land
Your golden treasures for to go
What makes you leave your new-wedded Lord
And go with the raggle taggle gipsies, O

What care I for my house and land
What care I for my treasure, O
What care I for my new-wedded Lord
I'm off with the raggle taggle gipsies, O

Last night you slept on a goose-feather bed
With sheets turned down so bravely, O
And tonight you'll sleep in a cold open field
Along with the raggle taggle gipsies, O

What care I for a goose-feather bed
With sheets turned down so bravely, O
For tonight I shall sleep in a cold open field
Along with the raggle taggle gipsies, O

Real Old Mountain Dew (© Trad. Irish)

Let the grasses_ grow and the waters flow in a free and easy way,
But give me enough of the rare old stuff that's made near Galway Bay, 
Come, peelers all, from Donegal, Sligo and Leitrim, too,
And we'll give them a slip and we'll take a sip of the real old mountain dew.

Skiddery idle diddle dum
Skiddery idle diddle dum
Skiddery idle diddle dum dum day
Skiddery idle diddle dum
Skiddery idle diddle dum
Skiddery idle dum a diddle dum day

At the foot of the hill there's a neat little still
Where the smoke curls up to the sky
By the smoke and the smell you can plainly tell
That there's whisky brewin' nearby
For it fills the air with odor rare
And betwixt both me and you
When home you roll you can take a bowl
Or a bucket full of Mountain Dew

Now learned men who use the pen
Who've written your praises high
This sweet poitin from Ireland's green
Distilled from wheat and rye
Ah, go away with your pills - it'll cure all ills
Of a pagan, a christian, a jew
Take off your coat and free your throat
With a bottle full of Mountain Dew 

X:20
T:Real Old Mountain Dew
C:Trad. Irish
D:Clancy Brothers "Irish Songs of Drinking & Rebellion", Dubliners "25 Years Celebration"
B:Campbell et al "The Dubliners Songbook"
R:Song
M:C
K:D
AA|"D"B>c B>A F2 E>D|"G"E>F E>D B,2 A,>B,|"D"D2 F>D E>F E>D|"A"A6 A2|
w: Let the gras_ ses_ grow and the wa_ ters_ flow in a free and_ ea_ sy_ way, But
"D"B>c B>A F2 E>D|"G"E>F E>D B,2 (3A,B,C|"D"D2 F2 "A"E>D E2|"D"D4 z2 A2||
w: give_ me e-nough of the rare_ old_ stuff that's__ made near Gal_ way Bay, Come,
"D"B2 A2 F2 A2|B2 A2 D2 A2|B2 AA F2 D2|"Bm"B,4 z2 AA|
w: ee-lers all, from Do-ne-gal, Sli-go and_ Leit-rim, too, And we'll
"D"B2 A>A F2 D>D|"G"E2 D2 B,2 A,>A,|"D"D2 F2 "A"E>D E2|"D"D6||
w: give them a slip and we'll take a sip of the real old moun_ tain dew.

Rocky Road (© Trad Irish)

             Dm    C       Dm
Twas in the merry month of May, from me home I started,
 Dm       C        Dm       C
Left the girls of Bray, oh nearly broken hearted,
   Dm    C      Dm
Saluted father dear, kissed me darlin' mother
 Dm      C       Dm        C
Drank a pint of beer, me grief and tears to smother
     Dm               C         Dm                C
Then off to reap the corn, and leave where I was born,
  Dm                 C       Am               C
I cut a stout blackthorn to banish ghost and goblin,
      Dm                 C         Dm               C
In a brand new pair of brogues, I rattled o'er the bogs
     Dm                 C
And frightened all the dogs
Am                                                    C
On the rocky road to Münster, one, two, three, four, five.

 Dm
Hunt the hare and turn her down
     C     Dm       C
The rocky road and all the ways to Münster
 Dm        C     Dm
Whack fol lol de ra

In Newcastle that night
I rested limbs so weary
Started by daylight
Next morning light and airy
Took a drop o' the pure
To keep me heart from sinkin'
That's the Paddy's cure
Whene'er he's on for drinkin'
To see the lassies smile
Laughin' all the while
At me curious style
'Twould set your heart a-bubblin
They ax'd if I was hired
The wages I required
Till I was almost fired
On the rocky road to Münster ...

From there I got away
Me spirits never failin'
Landed on the quay
Just as the ship was sailin'
Captain at me roared
Said that no room had he
When I jumped aboard
A cabin found for Paddy
Down among the pigs
I skipped some funny rigs
I played some hearty jigs
The water round me bubblin'
Far off Flamborough Head
I wished meself was dead
Or better far instead
On the rocky road to Münster ...

The boys of Amsterdam
When we safely landed
Called meself a fem
I could no longer stand it
Blood began to boil
Temper I was losin'
Poor ould Erin's isle
Oh they began abusin'
"Hurrah me soul", says I
My shillelagh let fly
Some Galway boys were by
They saw I was a-hobblin'
Then with a loud hurray
They joined in the affray
We quickly cleared the way
On the rocky road to Münster ...

In Münster next arrived
I thought it such a pity
To be so soon deprived
A view of that fine city
Then I took a stroll
All among the quality
Me bundle it was stole
Oh, in a neat locality
Something crossed me mind
Then I looked behind
No bundle could I find
Upon me stick a-wobblin'
Enquirin' for the rogue
They said me Connaught brogue
It wasn't much in vogue
On the rocky road to Münster ...

X:21
T:Rocky Road, The
C:Trad. Irish
D:Dubliners "Greatest Hits"
B:Campbell et al "The Dubliners Songbook", Loesberg "Folksongs & Ballads Popular in Ireland"
R:Slip Jig
M:9/8
K:Dm
A|:"Dm"A2A"C"G2E"Dm"D3|"Dm"A,2DD2DEFG|
w: The mer-ry month of May, from my home I star_ted,
"Dm"A2F"C"G2E"Dm"D2F|"C"E2CC2DEFG:|
w: Left the girls of Tu-am near-ly bro-ken hear_ted,
|:"Dm"A2Ad2Ac3|A2Ad2Ac3|A2Ad2Ac2A|
w: Off to reap the corn, leave where I was born, cut a stout black-thorn to
|1 "C"G2EC2DEFG:|2 "C"G2GG2EC2D|EFGA2AG2E|C3||
w: ba-nish ghost and gob_lin, on the rock-y road to Dub_lin, one, two, three, four, five.
"Dm"D2DD2EF2G|"Dm"A2F"C"G2E"Dm"D2F|"C"E2DC2DEFG|"Dm"A2F"C"G2E"Dm"D3||
w: Hunt the hare and turn her down the rock-y road and all the ways to Dub_lin, Whack fol lol de ra.
K:Em
B|:"Em"B2B"D"A2F"Em"E3|"Em"B,2EE2EFGA|"Em"B2G"D"A2F"Em"E2G|"D"F2DD2EFGA:|
|:"Em"B2Be2Bd3|B2Be2Bd3|B2Be2Bd2B|1 "D"A2FD2EFGA:|2 "D"A2AA2FD2E|FGAB2BA2F|D3||
"Em"E2EE2FG2A|"Em"B2G"D"A2F"Em"E2G|"D"F2ED2EFGA|"Em"B2G"D"A2F"Em"E3||

The Sally Gardens (© Trad. Irish/WB Yeats)

     D       A     G  D       G       A      D
Down by the Sally gardens my love and I did meet
     D          A     G  D         G      A          D
She passed the Sally gardens with little snow-white feet
     Bm     G        F#m           G          A       D
She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree
    D         A         G   D         G         A     D
But I, being young and foolish, with her I did not agree

In a field down by the river my love and I did stand
And on my leaning shoulder, she laid her snow-white hand
She bid me take love easy, as the grass grow on the weirs
But I was young and foolish and now I am full of tears

Down by the Sally gardens my love and I did meet ...

Star of the County Down (© Trad. Irish/Cathal MacGarvey)

         Em                    G      D
Near to Banbridge Town in the County Down,
     Em         D
One morning in July,
        Em                  G        D
Down a boreen green came a sweet colleen
         Em            D        Em
And she smiled as she passed me by
        G                       D
Oh she looked so neat from her two bare feet
         Em                    D
To the sheen of her nut brown hair,
        Em                   G      D
Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself
        Em        D       Em
For to see I was really there

          G                D
Oh, from Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
          Em               D
And from Galway to Dublin Town,
    Em                       G       D
No maid I've seen like the sweet colleen
       Em          D      Em
That I met in the County Down.

As she onward sped, I shook my head
And I gazed with a feelin' rare
And I said, say's I, to a passer-by 
"Who's the maid with the nut brown hair?"
Oh he smiled at me and with pride says he
"That's the gem of Ireland's crown
It's young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann
She's the star of the County Down"

At the Crossroads Fair I'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

X:23
T:Star of the County Down
N:Star of the County Down / Morrison's
C:Cathal MacGarvey
D:Energy Orchard "Shinola", Van Morrison/Chieftains "Irish Heartbeat", Oyster Band "Pearls of the Oyster"
B:Loesberg "Folksongs & Ballads Popular in Ireland"
R:Song
M:C
K:Em
B,D|"Em"E2E2 E2DE|"G"G2G2 "D"A2GA|"Em"B2AG E2B,2|"D"D6 B,D|
w: Near to Ban-bridge Town in the Coun-ty Down one_ morn-ing_ in Ju-ly, Down a
"Em"E2E2 E2DE|"G"G2G2 "D"A2GA|"Em"B2AG "D"E2D2|"Em"E6 Bc|
w: bo-reen green came a sweet col-leen and she smiled as she passed me by, Oh she
|:"G"d2B2 B2AG|"D"A2A2 A2GA|"Em"B2AG E2B,2|"D"D6 B,D|
w: looked so neat from her two bare feet to the sheen of her nut brown hair, Such a
Ban-try Bay up to Der-ry Quay and from Gal-way to Dub-lin Town, No_
"Em"E2E2 E2DE|"G"G2G2 "D"A2GA|"Em"B2AG "D"E2E2|"Em"E6 Bc:|
w: coa-xing elf, sure I shook my-self for to see I was real-ly there. Oh, from
w: maid I've seen like the sweet col-leen that I met in the Coun-ty Down.

Sound, Sound Your Instruments Of Joy (© Trad. English)

Ein alter überlieferter Weihnachtschoral, der von Chören aus dem Südwesten Englands gesungen wurde. Diese Chöre wandten sich nicht ihren Zuhörern zu, sondern sie standen im Kreis. Der Vorsänger sang die erste Zeile, dann fielen alle mit voller Kraft und völlig eigenen Harmonien ein. Je nach Qualität der Sängerinnen und Sänger muß es sich entweder grandios angehört haben, oder aber ... na ja! Wir haben den Song dann doch lieber etwas arrangiert!

Sound, sound your instruments of joy
Sound, sound your instruments of joy
To Zion shake each string
Let shouts of universal joy
Welcome the new born King

Sess, see the glad'ning dawn appears
Bright angels deck the morn
Behold, the great I am is here
The King of Glory born

Surprising scene, stupendous love
The Lord of Life, descend
He left his glorious realms above
To be the sinner's friend

Let heav'n and earth and sea proclaim
Thy wondrous love abroad
And all the universal frame
Sing praises to our God

Three Drunken Maidens (© Trad. English)

       E                  A
There were three drunken maidens
      B               E
Lived on the Isle of Wight
They drank from Monday morning
Didn't stop till Saturday night
      F#m
When Saturday night came round me boys
     E       A          B
The girlies wouldn't go out
  E                  A            B                E
These three drunken maidens kept pushing the jug about

Then in comes bouncing Sally
With a face as red as a bloom
Move up me jolly sisters
And give your Sally some room
For I'll be your equal before the night is out
So now four drunken maidens they pushed the jug about

Then in comes the landlord
And he's looking for his pay
I've a bill for forty nicker
That you lot have gotta pay
They hadn't got the money and still they wouldn't go out
These four drunken maidens kept pushing the jug about

Where are your feathered hats
Your mantels crisp and fine
They've all been swallowed up me boys
In tankards of good wine
And where are your maidenheads
You made so frisk and gay?
We left them in a public house
We drank them clean away

Twa Corbies (© Trad. Scottish)

          Em     D     Em
As I was walkin' all alane
             Em      D         Em
I heard twa corbies makin' a' mane
            G                     D
The tane untae the tither did say-o,
                 Em       D        Em
"Whaur shall we gang and dine the day, oh,
                Em       D        Em
Whaur shall we gang and dine the day?

It's in a hint yon auld fail dyke
I wot there lies a new slain knight
Naebody kens that he lies there-O
But his hawk and his hound and his lady fair-O
But his hawk and his hound and his lady fair

His hound is tae the hunting gane
His hawk tae fetch the wild-fowl hame
His lady's ta'en anither mate-O
So we may mak our dinner swate-O
So we may mak our dinner swate

And ye'll sit on his white hause-bane
And I'll pike oot his bonny blue e'en
Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair-O
We'll theek oor nest when it grows bare-O
We'll theek oor nest when it grows bare

There's mony a ane for him maks mane
But nane shall ken whaur he is gane
O'er his white banes when they are bare-O
The wind shall blaw for evermair-O
The wind shall blaw for evermair

X:24
T:Twa Corbies
C:Trad. Scottish
D:Ray & Archie Fisher on "New Electric Muse", Steeleye Span "Time"
B:Frank "", Loesberg "Traditional Folksongs & Ballads Popular of Scotland"
R:Song
M:3/4
K:Em
B,EF | "Em"G2E2 "D"DD | "Em"E3 B,EF | G2E2"D"(3DDD | "Em"E3EGA |
w: As I was walk-in' all a-lane, I heard twa cor-bies ma-kin' a' mane. The tane un-
"G"B3B (3AGF| (B2"D"A3) B,| EF "Em"GE "D"AF | "Em"(GF) E2 EE/F/ | GE "D"DD "Em"E | -E3 |]
w: to the ti-ther did say,_ "Whaur shall we gang and dine to-day,_ oh, whaur shall we gang and dine to-day?_

The Wind That Shakes The Barley (© Robert Dwyer Joyce)

  Am      Dm     Am      Em                    [Capo V]
I sat me in the valley green
  Am      G       Am
I sat me with my true love
My sad heart strove to two between
The old love and the new love
    Am                G
The old for her, the new that made
     F               Em
Me think on Ireland dearly
While soft the wind blew down the glen
And shook the golden barley

Twas hard the woeful words to frame
To break the ties that bound us
But harder still to bear the shame
Of foreign chains around us
And so I said, "The mountain glen
I'll seek at morning early
And join the brave United Men"
While soft winds shook the barley

While sad I kissed away her tears
Her fond arms round her flinging
The foeman's shot burst on our ears
From out the wildwood ringing
The bullet pierced my true love's side
In life's young spring so early
And on my breast in blood she died
When the soft wind shook the barley
%
%I bore her to some mountain stream
%And many's the summer blossom
%I placed with branches soft and green
%About her gore-stained bosom
%I wept and kissed her clay-cold corpse
%Then rushed o'er vale and valley
%My vengeance on the foe to wreak
%While soft wind shook the barley
%
Twas blood for blood without remorse
I've ta'en at Oulart Hollow
I've placed my true love's clay-cold corpse
Where I full soon may follow
And round her grave I wander drear
Noon, night and morning early
With aching heart when e'er I hear
The wind that shakes the barley

Won't Follow You Up to Carlow (© P.J. McCall, Rewritten Chorus: Walkin' Tom)

 Em
Lift Mac Cahir Og your face
                   G
Brooding o`er the old disgrace
      Em
That black Fitz-William stormed your place
      Em      D       Em
And drove you to the Fern

Grey said victory was sure
And soon the firebrand he`d secure
Until he met at Glenmalure
Feach Mac Hugh O' Byrne

 Bm
Curse and swear, Lord Kildare
 D
We won't do what Feach will dare
 Bm
No more hatred, no despair
     D              Em
For fallen is your star, low
 Bm
Down with halbert, down with sword
 D
No more marching by the Lord
 Bm                   A         Bm      DD
Feach Mac Hugh, we'd given the word
                        Em              (Em D Em)
Won't follow you up to Carlow

See the swords of Glen Imayle
Flashing o'er the English Pale
See all the children of the Gael
Beneath O' Byrne's banners
Rooster of the fighting stock
Would you let a Saxon cock
Crow out upon an Irish rock
Fly up and teach him manners

From Tassagart up to Clonmore
Flows a stream of Saxon gore
Och, great is Rory Oge O' More
At sending loons to Hades
White is sick and Lane is fled
Now for black Fitz-William's head
We'll send it over, dripping red
To Liza and the ladies

X:8
T:(Won't) Follow You up to Carlow
C:P.J. McCall, Rewritten Chorus: Tom
D:Ron Kavana "1798-1998", Diarmuid O'Leary & The Bards "Classic Irish Ballads", Planxty "Planxty", McMurrough on "Irish Folk Collection: Green Velvet", Jim McCann on "Irish Songs Of Freedom Vol. 1"
B:Loesberg "Folksongs & Ballads Popular in Ireland", Connolly "The Christy Moore Songbook"
R:Song
M:C
K:Em
|:"Em"E3E E3D|B,3^C D4|E3E G3A|"G"B3A G3F|"Em"E3E E3D|B,3^C D3F|"Em"E3E "D"F3D|"Em"E6 z2:|
|"Bm"B3^c d4|B3^c d4|"D"F3F F3E|D3E F4|"Bm"B3^c d3d|B3^c d4|"D"F3F F3D|"Em"E4 E4|
|"Bm"B3^c d3^c|B3^c d4|"D"F3F F3E|D3E F4|"Bm"B3^c d3^c|"A"(3e2d2^c2 "Bm"d3z|"D"|(3F2F2F2 F3D|"Em"E4 E4||

The Wren Song (© Trad.)

Am 26. Dezember, dem St. Stephen‘s Day, zogen früher Jungen und junge Männer auf dem Land verkleidet und herausgeputzt von Haus zu Haus. Mit sich trugen sie einen gefangenen Zaunkönig (Wren), festgebunden an einen Stock. Sie musizierten und sangen, um Naturalien und Geld für die „Beerdigung des Zaunkönigs“ zu sammeln. Tom hat mit seiner freien Übersetzung den Grundtenor dieser Tradition ganz gut getroffen:
Der Zaunkönig, aller Vögel Regent,
Der Zaunkönig, gefangen im Advent,
Sein Name klingt weit und groß,
Hoch die Tassen, ein dreifaches Prost!

     D
The wren, the wren, the king of all birds,
      A                 D
St. Stephen’s day was caught in the furze.
Although he was little his honour was great
Jump up me lads, and give him treat.

     Up with the kettle and down with the pan
     And give us a penny to bury the wren.
 
As I was gone to Killenaule 
I met a wren upon a wall,
Up with me wattle and knocked him down
And brought him into Carrick town.

Droolin, droolin, where’s your nest?
‘Tis in the bush that I love best.
In the tree, the holly tree
Where all the boys do follow me.

We followed the wren three miles or more
Three miles or more, three miles or more,
Followed the wren three miles or more
At six o’clock in the morning.

I have a little box under me arm,
Under me arm, under me arm,
I have a little box under me arm,
A penny, a tuppence will do it no harm.

Missus Clancy’s a very good woman,
A very good woman, a very good woman,
Missus Clancy’s a very good woman,
She gave us a penny to bury the wren.