An Irish Song

[Noel's angel]

sure, come and join the party

[Noel's angel]

Ordinary Man
Christy Moore
I'm an ordinary man, nothing special nothing grand
I've had to work for everything I own
I never asked for a lot, I was happy with what I'd got
Enough to keep my family and my home
Now they say that times are hard and they've handed me my cards
They say there's not the work to go around
And when the whistle blows, the gates will finally close
Tonight they're going to shut this factory down
Then they'll tear it d-o-w-n

I never missed a day nor went on strike for better pay
For twenty years I served the best I could
Now with a handshake and a check it seems so easy to forget
Loyalty through the bad times and through good
The owner says he's sad to see that things have got so bad
But the captains of industry won't let him lose
He still drives a car and smokes his cigar
And still he takes his family on a cruise, he'll never lose

Well it seems to me such a cruel irony
He's richer now than ever he was before
Now my check is spent and I can't afford the rent
There's one law for the rich, one for the poor
Every day I've tried to salvage some of my pride
To find some work so I can pay my way
Oh but everywhere I go, the answer's always no
There's no work for anyone here today, no work today

And so condemned I stand, just an ordinary man
Like thousands beside me in the queue
I watch my darling wife trying to make the best of life
And Lord knows what the kids are going to do
Now that we are faced with this human waste
A generation cast aside
And as long as I live, I never will forgive
You've stripped me of my dignity and pride, you've stripped me bare
You've stripped me bare, you've stripped me bare.
© Christy Moore
© The Celtic Lyrics Collection 2000-2004. Additional copyright notices may apply

[gonzaga]

Boys of the Old Brigade, The

Oh, father why are you so sad
On this bright Easter morn’
When Irish men are proud and glad
Of the land that they were born?
Oh, son, I see in mem’ries few
Of far off distant days
When being just a lad like you
I joined the IRA.

Where are the lads that stood with me
When history was made?
A Ghra Mo Chroi, I long to see
The boys of the old brigade.

From hills and farms a call to arms
Was heard by one and all.
And from the glen came brave young men
To answer Ireland’s call.
‘T wasn’t long ago we faced a foe,
The old brigade and me,
And by my side they fought and died
That Ireland might be free.

Where are the lads that stood with me
When history was made?
A Ghra Mo Chroi, I long to see
The boys of the old brigade.

And now, my boy, I’ve told you why
On Easter morn’ I sigh,
For I recall my comrades all
And dark old days gone by.
I think of men who fought in glen
With rifle and grenade.
May heaven keep the men who sleep
From the ranks of the old brigade.

Where are the lads that stood with me
When history was made?
A Ghra Mo Chroi, I long to see
The boys of the old brigade.

[picchick]

Lookin' down through a tide of no return
Is a field where the crops no longer grow
Parched is the land, strangled an' be damned
There for the Grace Of God Go I

Down beside where the riverbed sleeps
Is a man not knowin' what he should feel
Mocked by the wave that beats the waters edge
There for the Grace Of God Go I

If I ever hurt another like thee again
I would drown myself beneath your name
Lost was the child, we all once did hide
There for the Grace Of God Go I

[toledo_jesus]

[i]Arthur McBride and the Sergeant

Oh, me and my cousin, one Arthur McBride
As we went a-walking down by the seaside
Now, mark what followed and what did betide
For it being on Christmas morning...
Out for recreation, we went on a tramp
And we met Sergeant Napper and Corporal Vamp
And a little wee drummer, intending to camp
For the day being pleasant and charming.

"Good morning ! Good morning!" the sergeant did cry
"And the same to you gentlemen!" we did reply ,
Intending no harm but meant to pass by
For it being on Christmas morning.
But says he, "My fine fellows if you will enlist,
It's ten guineas in gold I will slip in your fist
And a crown in the bargain for to kick up the dust
And drink the King's health in the morning.

For a soldier he leads a very fine life
And he always is blessed with a charming young wife
And he pays all his debts without sorrow or strife
And always lives pleasant and charming...
And a soldier he always is decent and clean
In the finest of clothing he's constantly seen
While other poor fellows go dirty and mean
And sup on thin gruel in the morning."


"But", says Arthur, "I wouldn't be proud of your clothes
For you've only the lend of them as I suppose
And you dare not change them one night, for you know
If you do you'll be flogged in the morning.
And although that we are single and free
we take great delight in our own company
And we have no desire strange faces to see
Although that your offers are charming
And we have no desire to take your advance
All hazards and dangers we barter on chance
For you would have no scruples for to send us to France
Where we would get shot without warning"

"Oh now!", says the sergeant "I'll have no such chat
And I neither will take it from spalpeen or brat
For if you insult me with one other word
I'll cut off your heads in the morning"
And then Arthur and I we soon drew our hods
And we scarce gave them time for to draw their own blades
When a trusty shillelagh came over their heads
And bade them take that as fair warning

And their old rusty rapiers that hung by their side
We flung them as far as we could in the tide
"Now take them out, Divils!", cried Arthur McBride
"And temper their edge in the morning".
And the little wee drummer we flattened his pow
And we made a football of his rowdeydowdow
Threw it in the tide for to rock and to row
And bade it a tedious returning

And we having no money, paid them off in cracks
And we paid no respect to their two bloody backs
For we lathered them there like a pair of wet sacks
And left them for dead in the morning.
And so to conclude and to finish disputes
We obligingly asked if they wanted recruits
For we were the lads who would give them hard clouts
And bid them look sharp in the morning.

Oh me and my cousin, one Arthur McBride
As we went a walkin' down by the seaside,
Now mark what followed and what did betide
For it being on Christmas morning.[/i]

Why is it that when the Irish break the law we like to sing about it?

[Thy Geekdom Come]

[quote name='toledo_jesus' date='Sep 26 2004, 10:51 PM'] Why is it that when the Irish break the law we like to sing about it? [/quote]
Well, it's commonplace for everyday events to get into our songs.






It's okay...I can say it...I'm Irish...

[toledo_jesus]

this one is sweet...

[i]As I came down through Dublin City, at the hour of twelve at night,
Who should I spy, but a Spanish Lady
Washing her feet by the candlelight
First she washed them,then she dried them
Over a fire of amber coals
In all me life I ne'er did see, a maid so sweet about the soul

Chorus

Whack for the Too Rye Ooh Ray Lady,
whack for the Too Rye Ooh Rye Aye

As I came back through Dublin City at the hour of Half past Eight,
Who should I spy but the Spanish Lady,
brushing her hair in the broad daylight
First she brushed it , then she tossed it
On her lap was a silver comb
In all me life I ne'er did see, a maid so fair since I did roam.

Chorus

As I returned to Dublin City, as the sun began to set
Who should I spy but a Spanish lady
Catching a moth, in a golden net.
First she saw me, then she fled me
Lifted her petticoats o'er her knee
In all me life I ne'er did see, a maid so fair as the Spanish Lady

Chorus

Ive wandered North, and I have wonder South
Through Stoney Barter and Patricks Close
Up and around, by the Gloucester Diamond
And back by Napper Tandys' house
Auld age has laid her hands on me
Cold as a fire of ashy coals....
But, there is the love of me Spanish Lady, a maid so sweet about the soul

Chorus x 2[/i]

[Colleen]

[quote name='toledo_jesus' date='Sep 26 2004, 10:05 PM'] this one is sweet...

[i]As I came down through Dublin City, at the hour of twelve at night,
Who should I spy, but a Spanish Lady
Washing her feet by the candlelight[/i] [/quote]
I love that one, hehe.

[b]Red is the Rose[/b]

[i]Chorus
Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows
Fair is the lily of the valley
Clear is the water that flows from the Boyne
But my love is fairer than any.
Come over the hills, my bonnie Irish lass
Come over the hills to your darling
You choose the rose, love, and I'll make the vow
And I'll be your true love forever.

'Twas down by Killarney's green woods that we strayed
When the moon and the stars they were shining
The moon shone its rays on her locks of golden hair
And she swore she'd be my love forever.

Chorus

It's not for the parting that my sister pains
It's not for the grief of my mother
'Tis all for the loss of my bonny Irish lass
That my heart is breaking forever.

Chorus [/i]

[gonzaga]

[color=green]listen to this quality little tune! [/color]



[url="http://tinyurl.com/4njq4"]flute band[/url]

[Noel's angel]

MAIDS WHEN YOURE YOUNG NEVER WED AN OLD MAN


An old man came courting me
Hey do a dority
An old man came courting me
Me being young
An old man came courting me
All for to marry me
Maids when you're young never wed an old man

For he's got no faloodorum, fadidledo doorum
For he's got no faloodoorum, fadidleday
He's got no faloorum, he's lost his ding doorum
So maids when you're young, never wed an old man

Now when we went to the church, hey do a dority
When we went to the church, me being young
When we went to the church, he left me in the lurch
Maids when you're young, never wed an old man

Now when we went to our bed, hey do a dority
Now when we went to our bed, me being young
When we went to our bed, he neither done nor said
Maids when you're young never wed an old man

Now when he went to sleep, hey do a dority
Now when we went to sleep, me being young
When we went to sleep, out of bed I did creep
Into the arms of a handsome young man

And I found his falodoorum, fa didle dodoorum
I found his faloodoorum, fa didle all day
I found his falodoorum and he got my dingdoorum
so maids when you're young never wed an old man