Raglan Road

Lyrics:
On Raglan Road of an autumn day
I saw her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare
That I might one day rue
I saw the danger and I passed
Along the enchanted way
And said let grief be a fallen leaf
At the dawning of the day

On Grafton Street in November
We tripped lightly along the ledge
Of a deep ravine where can be seen
The worth of passion's pledge
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts
And I not making hay
Oh I loved too much and by such by such
Is happiness thrown away

I gave her gifts of the mind
I gave her the secret signs
Known to the artists who have known
The true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint I did not stint
I gave her poems to say
With her own name there
And her own dark hair
Like clouds over fields of May

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet
I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had loved not as I should
A creature made of clay
When the angel woos the clay
He'll lose his wings at the dawn of day

• Muziek

  • 'Raglan Road' van Luke Kelly (iTunes)

Dicey Riley

Henry my Son

Avondale

Red is the Rose

The Skillet Pot

Michael Grosvenor Myer sings a sentimental Irish song about childhood.

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