Where is James Connnolly

Andy Irvine - Where is our James Connolly?

Arthur McBride

Paul Brady 1977  

Traditional. This one goes back to 1840s and was recorded by Planxty , Paul Brady and Bob Dylan. The first verion is by Andy Irvine with Plankty. all the other versions of the song are included here. The sheet music is below. Thanks to Marc Fahrbach for the chords for the Planxty version.

Long Version in G
 
I (G)had a first cousin called Arthur McBride
He and (C)I took a (G)stroll down (Am)by the sea(C)side;
(G)Seeking good fortune and (C)what might be(G)tide
It was just as the (Am)day was a'(C)daw(D)nin'
And (G)after restin' we (C)both took a (G)tramp
We (C)met Sergeant (G)Harper and (Am)Corporal (C)Cramp
Be(G)sides the wee drummer who beat up the camp
With his row-dee-(D)dow-dow in the (G)morning
 
He says my young fellows if you will enlist
A guinea you quickly will have in your fist
Besides a crown for to kick up the dust
And drink the King's health in the morning
For a soldier he leads a very fine life
He always is blessed with a charming young wife
And he pays all his debts without sorrow or strife
And always lives happy and charming
 
And a soldier he always is decent and clean
In the finest of garments he's constantly seen
While other poor fellows go dirty and mean
And sup on thin gruel in the morning
Says Arthur, I wouldn't be proud of your clothes
You've only the lend of them as I suppose
And you dare not change them one night or you know
If you do you'll be flogged in the morning
 
And although we are single and free
We take great delight in our own company
And we have no desire strange countries to see
Although your offer is charming
And we have no desire to take your advance
All hazards and danger we barter on chance
and you'd have no scruples to send us to France
Where we would be shot without warning
 
And now says the sergeant, if I hear but one word
I'll instantly now will out with my sword
And into your bodies as strength will afford
So now my gay devils take warning
But Arthur and I we took the odds
We gave them no chance to launch out their swords
Whacking shillelaghs came over their heads
And paid them right smart in the morning
 
As for the wee drummer, we rifled his pow
And made a football of his row-do-dow-dow
Into the ocean to rock and to roll
And bade it a tedious returnin'
As for the old rapier that hung by his side
We flung it as far as we could in the tide
To the Devil I pitch you, says Arthur McBride
To temper your steel in the morning

Lied van de Zee

Hier, los van het land
Los van gewicht
Laat ik me leiden

Hier, los van het woord
Dicht bij het geweld
Van alle tijden

Zo wild is je klank, zo rijk is je lied
Soms dring je tot me door
Soms hoor ik het niet

Hier, loodgrijs en grauw
Sta ik bij jou om te bekomen
Schuim, grijsgelig schuim
Wolken en zout
Reizen en dromen

Verlost van het woord, verlost van de zin
Er is geen houvast, er is geen begin

Hier, slaaf aan de rand
Zonder verstand, niets te verwachten

Zwijg, wandel en denk
Wandel, vergeet, duizend gedachten

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.