Poems / Songs & Stories
The Little Roads of Ireland
The Roman roads run outward from the city on the hills,
An Holland's roads will take you by gaily painted mills.
Small pathways of the East will lead to China's ancient wall,
But the little road of Ireland are the lovliest of all.
In Normandy small roadways through flowering orchards run,
The ancient roads of Syria flash under shining sun.
And Winding beauty lingers where the Rhine and Danube roll,
But the little roads of Ireland entwine around your soul.
From Dublin Bay to Galway, From Cork to Derry town,
From Antrim to Killarney, they ramble up and down.
And though you are ten thousand miles,
From where they twist and wind,
The little roads of Ireland stay forever in your mind.
Whiskey in the Jar
As I was going over the far famed Kerry mountains
I met with Captain Farrell and his money he was counting
I first produced my pistol and then put out my rapier
Saying stand and deliver for you are the bold deciever
chorus
With my whack fol-the-dol fol-the-da (clap clap clap clap)
whack fol the daddy oh
whack fol the daddy oh
There's whiskey in the jar.
He counted out his money and it made a pretty penny
I put it in my pocket and I gave it to my Jenny
She sighed and she swore that she never would betray me
But the devil take the woman for they never can be easy
Go to chorus
I went into my chamber all for to take a slumber
I dreamt of gold and jewels and sure it was no wonder
But Jenny drew my charges and she filled them up with water
and she sent for Captain Farrell to be ready for the slaughter
Go to chorus
And twas early in the morning before I rose to travel
Up comes a band of footmen and likewise Captain Farrell
I then produced my pistol for she stole away my rapier
But I couldn't shoot so a prisoner I was taken
Go to chorus
And if anyone can aid me tis my brother in the army
If I could learn his station in Cork or in Killarney
And if he'd come and join me we'd go roving in Kilkenny
I'll engage he'd treat me fairer than my darling sporting Jenny
Go to chorus
There's some take delight in the hurling and the bowling
Others take delight in the carriages a-rolling
But I take delight in the juice of the barley
And courting pretty women when the sun is rising early
Go to chorus
The Rose of Tralee
The pale moon was rising above the green mountains,
The sun was declining beneath the blue sea,
When I stray'd with my love to the pure crystal fountain,
That stands un the beautiful vale of Tralee.
She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer,
Yet 'twas not her beauty alone that won me,
Oh no, 'twas the truth in her eye ever dawning,
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.
The cool shades of evening there mantles were spreading,
And Mary, all smiles, sat listening to me,
The moon through the valley, her pale rays were shedding
When I won the heart of the Rose of Tralee.
Yet 'twas not her beauty alone that won me,
Oh no, 'twas truth in her eye ever dawning,
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.
This is a spirited rendition of The Rose of Tralee.
Be Pagan Once Again
1:
When childhild's fire was in my blood, / I dreamed of ancient dreemen,
Against the Church who boldly stood / as Pagans and as Heathen.
And then I prayed I yet might see / the Druids in the glen,
And Ireland long the churches' toy, / be Pagan once again!
Be Pagan once again, / be Pagan once again,
And Ireland long the churches' toy, / be Pagan once again!
2:
The Old Gods only sleep you know, / although betrayed and slandered.
They guarded us from every woe / and blessed each crop and fine herd.
Then Patrick, he drove the snakes away / and brought the churches in.
'Twas a bloody poor bargain, I would say -- / let's be Pagan once again!
Be Pagan once again, / be Pagan once again,
'Twas a bloody poor bargain, I would say -- / let's be Pagan once again!
3:
And ever since that wretched day, / when first Ireland went Christian,
We've suffered woe in every way, / with our freedom made the worst "sin"
.
They set us at each other's throats, / to murder kith and kin.
Too long we've been their starving goats -- / let's be Pagan once again!
Be Pagan once again, / be Pagan once again,
Too long we've been their starving goats -- / let's be Pagan once again!
4:
Both Catholic and Protestant / led us round by our noses,
Distracting from the deadly scent / of England's bleedin' roses!
Kick every preacher 'cross the sea, / burn out their golden dens.
It's the only way we'll ever be free -- / let's be Pagan once again!
Be Pagan once again, / be Pagan once again,
It's the only way we'll ever be free -- / let's be Pagan once again!
Erin go Bride!
© 1997 silverphoenix@cybergal.com