The Boys of Blue Hill

Angus Polka

Dennis Murphy's Polka

The Jolly Tinker

 The Jolly Tinker

As I went down a shady lane, at a door I chanced to knock

"Have you any pots or kettles, with rusty holes to block?"

"Well indeed I have, don't you know I have

To me right fol-ooral-addy, well indeed I have"

The misses came out to the door and she asked me to come in

"You're welcome jolly tinker and I hope you brought your tin"

"Well indeed I did, don't you know I did

To me right fol-ooral-addy, well indeed I did"

She took me through the kitchen and she led me through the hall

And the servants cried "The devil, has he come to block us all

"Well indeed I have, don't you know I have

To me right fol-ooral-addy, well indeed I have"

She took me up the stairs, me lads, to show me what to do

Then she fell on the feathery bed and I fell on it too

"Well indeed I did, don't you know I did

To me right fol-ooral-addy, well indeed I did"

She then took out a frying pan and she began to knock

For to let the servants know, me lads, that I was at my work

"Well indeed I was, don't you know I was

To me right fol-ooral-addy, well indeed I was"

She put her hand into her pocket and she pulled out twenty pounds

"Take that my jolly tinker and we'll have another round"

"Well, indeed we will, don't you know we will

To me right fol-ooral-addy, well indeed we will"

Well, I've been a jolly tinker for these forty years or more

But such a lovely job as that, I never did before

Well, indeed I didn't, don't you know I didn't...

To me right fol-ooral-addy, well indeed I didn't"

Ye Yacobites by name

De tweede samenspeelsessie met Johan en dan komt dit eruit: Ye Yacobites by name.

The Foggy Dew

Sinead O'Connor & The Chieftans.

The Foggy Dew

Luke Kelly Singing The Foggy Dew {1966}for German television called "Irland - Lieder für Träumer, Musik für Rebellen" which translates to "Ireland - Songs for dreamers, music for rebels".

The Foggy Dew was written by Canon Charles O`Neill in 1919.

As down the glen one Easter morn to a city fair rode I

There Armed lines of marching men in squadrons passed me by

No fife did hum nor battle drum did sound it's dread tatoo

But the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey swell rang out in the foggy dew

Right proudly high over Dublin Town they hung out the flag of war

'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky than at Sulva or Sud El Bar

And from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying through

While Britannia's Huns, with their long range guns sailed in through the foggy dew

But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell rang mournfully and clear

For those who died that Eastertide in the springing of the year

And the world did gaze, in deep amaze, at those fearless men, but few

Who bore the fight that freedom's light might shine through the foggy dew

The Rare Ould Times

Raised on songs & stories, heroes of renown

The passing tales & glories that once was Dublin town

The hallowed halls & houses, the haunting childrens' rhymes

That once was Dublin city in the rare ould times

[Chorus:]

Ring a ring a rosie, as the light declines

I remember Dublin city in the rare ould times

My name it is Sean Dempsey, as Dublin as can be

Born hard & late in Pimlico, in a house that ceased to be

By trade I was a cooper, lost out to redundancy

Like my house that fell to progress, my trade's a memory

And I courted Peggy Dignan, as pretty as you please

A rogue & a child of Mary, from the rebel liberties

I lost her to a student chap with a skin as black as coal

When he took her off to Birmingham, she took away my soul

[Chorus]

The years have made me bitter, the gargle dims me brain

'Cause Dublin keeps on changing & nothing seems the same

The Pillar & the Met have gone, the Royal long since pulled down

As the great unyielding concrete makes a city of my town

[Chorus]

Fare thee well sweet Anna Liffey, I can no longer stay

& watch the new glass cages, that spring up along the quay

My mind's too full of memories, too old to hear new chimes

I'm part of what was Dublin in the rare ould times

[Chorus]

The Trawling Trade

The Broadside from Grimsby, about time they got some tunes on here, if anyone has decent copies of there songs on MP3 or album art please drop me a line.

The Trawling Trade

John Conolly

North to the Faeroe Islands, South to the coast of Spain-

West with the whaling fleet, and off to the pole again-

Over the world of water, seventeen seas I've strayed-

Now to the north I'm sailing, back to the trawling trade.

Come, ye bold seafaring men, there's fortunes to be made -

In the trawling trade.

Back to the midnight landings, back to the fish dock smell,

back to the frozen wind, as hard as the teeth of hell,

Back to the strangest game that ever a man has played.

Follow the stormy rollers, back to the trawling trade.

Come, ye bold seafaring men, there's fortunes to be made -

In the trawling trade.

Down with your trawling tackle, down with your nets and gear

Wait for the winches winding, wait for the deckies cheer.

Up with the shining harvest, glittering silver-sprayed -

Down to the decks below to pay, pay for the trawling trade.

Come, ye bold seafaring men, there's fortunes to be made -

In the trawling trade.

Home with a harvest wind, and back to the Humber tide;

Run to the starboard rail and leap to the waterside -

Roll with a roaring bunch of fishermen newly-paid -

Down to the dockside pubs and drink to the trawling trade.

Come, ye bold seafaring men, there's fortunes to be made -

In the trawling trade.

The yellow haired laddie

 

The yellow haired laddie

From "In Concert" by The Livingstones, which was released in 1968. Members include Ken McKay, Frank McKay, David McCabe and John Dempsey.

The maidens are smiling in rocky Glencoe

The clansmen are arming to rush on the foe

Their banners are streaming as forth leaves the clan

And the yellow haired laddie is first in the band

The pibroch is kindling their hearts to the war

Camerons slogans are heard from afar

They close for the struggle where many shall fall

And the yellow haired laddie is the foremost of all

He towers on the wave like a wild rolling tide

No kinsman of valiance will stand by his side

The Camerons gather around him alone

He heeds not the danger and fear is unknown

The plumes o' his bonnet are seen in the fight

Those beacons of valour they light with his sight

But his sword and his claymore are greater distressed

For the plumes o' his bonnet now lie in the dust

The maidens are weeping in rocky Glencoe

From warriors' eyelids those bitter tears flow

Where tell me where is our chieftain so dear?

And the yellow haired laddie lies low on the brae 

Wild Colonial Boy

There was a wild colonial boy, Jack Duggan was his name
He was born and raised in Ireland in a place called Castlemaine
He was his father's only son, his mother's pride and joy
And dearly did his parents love the wild colonial boy

At the early age of sixteen years, he left his native home
And to Australia's sunny shore he was inclined to roam
He robbed the rich, he helped the poor, he shot James McAvoy
A terror to Australia was the wild colonial boy

One morning on the prairie as Jack he rode along
A listening to the mockingbird a singing a cheerful song
Out stepped a band of troopers, Kelly, Davis and Fitzroy
They all set out to capture him, the wild colonial boy

'Surrender now Jack Duggan for you see we're three to one
Surrender in the Queen's high name for you're a plundering son'
Jack pulled two pistols from his belt and he proudly waved them high
'I'll fight, but not surrender,' said the wild colonial boy

He fired a shot at Kelly, which brought him to the ground
And turning 'round to Davis, he received a fatal wound
A bullet pierced his proud young heart from the pistol of Fitzroy
And that was how they captured him, the wild colonial boy