Irish Poems
Herring Is King
by Alfred Percival Graves

Let all the fish that swim the sea,
Salmon and turbot, cod and ling,
Bow down the head and bend the knee
To herring, their king! to herring, their king!
Irish Lullaby
by Alfred Percival Graves

I'd rock my own sweet childie to rest in a cradle of gold on a bough of the willow,
To the shoheen ho of the wind of the west and the lulla lo of the soft sea billow.
Sleep, baby dear, sleep with out fear,
Mother is here beside your pillow.

I'd put my own sweet childie to sleep in a silver in a silver boat on the beautiful river,
where a shoheen whisper the white cascades, and a lulla lo the green flags shiver.
Sleep, baby dear, sleep without fear,
Mother is here with you forever.

Lulla lo! to rise and fall of mother's soft skin 'tis sleep has bound you,
And O my child, what cozier nest for rosier rest could love have found you?
Sleep, baby dear, sleep without fear,
Mother's two arms are clasped around you.
All Day I Hear The Noise Of Waters
by James Joyce

All day I hear the noise of waters
Making moan,
Sad as the sea bird is, when going
Forth alone,
He hears the winds cry to the waters'
Monotone.

The gray winds, the cold winds are blowing
Where I go.
I hear the noise of many waters
Far below.
All day, all night, I hear them flowing
To and fro.
The Musician's Invitation

I am of Ireland
And the holy land
Of Ireland.

Good sire, I pray thee,
For the sake of charity
Come and dance with me,
In Ireland.

Fragment of an Old English dance song composed by a 14th century minstrel.
Larks
by Katherine Tynan

All day in exquisite air
the song clomb an invisible stair,
flight on flight, story on story,
into the dazzling glory.

There was no bird, only a singing,
Up in the glory, climbing and ringing, like a small golden cloud at even,
trembling 'twizt earth and heaven.

I saw no staircase winding, winding,
up in the dazzle, sapphire and blinding,
yet round by round, in exquisite air,
the song went up the stair.
String In The Earth and Air
by James Joyce

String in the earth and air
make music sweet;
string by the river where
the willow meet.

There's music along the river,
for love wonders there,
pale flowers on his mantle,
dark leaves on his hair.

All softly playing,
with head to the music bent,
and fingers traying
upon an instrument.
The Limrick Lasses
by Alfred Percival Graves

O Limerick dear,
it's far and it's near
I've travelled the rounf of this circular sphere;
still an' all to my mind
no colleens you'll find
as lovely and modest, as merry and kind,
as our Limerick lasses;
our Limerick lasses-
so lovely and modest, so merry and kind.
so row,
strong and slow,
chorusing after me as we go:-
still an' all to my mind
no colleens you'll find
as lovely and modest, as merry and kind,
as our Limerick lasses;
our Limerick lasses-
so lovely and modest, so merry and kind.
Irish Blessing

Four corners to her bed,
four angels at her head,
Mark, Matthew, Luke and John;
god bless the bed that she lies on.
new moon, new moon, god bless me,
god bless this house and family.
Irish Blessing

May the road rise to meet you.
mya the wind be always at your back.
may the sun shine warm upon your face.
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
and until we meet again,
may god hold you in the hollow of his hand.
Irish Blessing

Deep peace of the running wave to you.
deep peace of the flowing air to you.
deep peace of the quiet earth to you.
deep peace of the shining stars to you.
deep peace of the gentle night to you.
moon and stars pour their healing light on you.
deep peace of the Light of the World to you.
Irish Blessing

May the Irish hills caress you.
may her lakes and rivers bless you.
may the luck of the Irish enfold you.
may the blessing of Saint Patrick behold you.
Irish Blessing

May those who love us love us.
and those that don't love us,
may god turn their hearts.
and if he doesn't turn their hearts,
may he turn their ankles,
so we'll know them by their limping!
The Fairies In New Ross

When moonlight
near midnight
tips the rocks and waving wood;

when the moonlight
near midnight
silvers o'er the sleeping flood;

when yew-tops
with the dew-drops
sparkle o'er deserted graves;

'tis then we fly
through welkin high,
then we sail o'er yellow waves.
Dress Time!
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