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AGAIN IN EIREANN
Copyright - (Keating - KT
Music)
Used by permission
Oh, to feel old Eireann's breezes in my hair,
Oh, to have my gentle Nora with me there,
Och, to sit with her beside the open fire,
Oh, to be home again in Eireann.
Ach, but I'm sick and tired of working night and day,
Only for Friday friends to drink away my pay.
Many a time I vowed that I would steal away,
And buy me a fare back home to Eireann.
Winter a letter came too late, too late, I know,
To tell of my dear old mother, she was sinking low.
I was in Boston when they cleared away the snow,
To lay her beneath the sod in Eireann.
Every week I'm sending all my dollars home,
To buy me a cut of land and build a home,
Then from Nora's side I ne'er again will roam,
And I will remain at home in Eireann.
Celtic
Voices - Woman
SALLY
GARDEN
Down by the Sally garden, my love and I did meet,
She passed the Sally garden, with little snow-white
feet.
She bid me `Take love easy, as the leaves grow on
the tree',
But I, being young and foolish, with her did not agree.
In a field down by the river, my love and I did stand
And on my leaning shoulder, she laid her snow-white
hand.
She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the
weirs:
But I was young and foolish and now am full of tears.
Down by the Sally garden, my love and I did meet,
She passed the Sally garden, with little snow-white
feet.
She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the
tree;
But I, being young and foolish, with her did not agree.
Celtic
Voices - Woman
WISH I COULD
I thought that I - could say good-bye when you walked
out the door,
That I'd get by without you anymore.
But days go by - and nights I cry and call aloud your
name,
No matter how - I try - it's still the same.
Each place I see - your memory - and your face is
on my mind.
Each place I go - your picture there I find.
My valentine - you once were mine, but since you've
gone away,
Your memory's still with me every day.
CHORUS
You tell me to forget you, I only wish I could
Be like before I met you - wish I could,
You tell me to forget about you - I only wish I could
Forget I ever met you - wish I could.
I dreamt last night, I held you tight, like many,
many, many times before,
You promised that you would love me evermore,
When I awoke, - my heart near broke, it nearly broke,
when I found, I found you weren't there,
Sweet memories just filled me with despair.
Chorus
Celtic
Voices - Woman
THE
OLD OAK TREE
Do not marry O'Moore, my father did implore
Or an outlaw's wife you will be
With no roof overhead, no feathers for a bed
Just the leaves of an old oak tree
with no roof overhead, no feathers for a bed
Just the leaves of an old oak tree
When I married my love, he swore by stars above
That till death he'd be true to me
With the stars overhead, the soft earth for our bed
'neath the leaves of the old oak tree
As I lay by his side, I did count the stars that hide
In the leaves of the old oak tree
But the cruel Saxon foe, a hunting they did go
Till my love, in a snare was he
With a price on his head, he did hang till he was
dead
From the bough of an old oak tree
With a price on his head, he did hang till he was
dead
From the bough of an old oak tree
Though O'Moore is no more, his spirit will endure
O'er his grave now the grass grows free
And I bore him a son who is tall and free and young
With the strength of that old oak tree
Yes, I bore him a son who is tall and free and young
With the strength of that old oak tree
Celtic
Voices - Woman
FOLLOW
ME UP TO CARLOW
Lift Mac Cahir Og your face,
Brooding o'er the old disgrace
That black Fitzwilliam stormed your place
And drove you to the Fern.
Grey said victory was sure,
Soon the firebrand he'd secure;
Until he met at Glenmalure
Feach Mac Hugh O Byrne
CHORUS
Curse and swear Lord Kildare,
Feach will do what Feach will dare
Now Fitzwilliam, have a care,
Fallen is your star, low.
Up with halbert, out with sword,
On we go for by the lord
Feach Mac Hugh has given his word,
Follow me up to Carlow.
See the swords of Glen Imayle,
Flashing o'er the English Pale
See all the children of the Gael,
Beneath O'Byrnes banners.
Rooster of the fighting stock,
Would you let a fighting cock
Crow out upon an Irish rock,
Fly up and teach him manners.
Chorus
From Tassagart to Clonmore,
Flows a stream of Saxon gore
Great is Rory Og O'More,
At sending loons to Hades.
White is sick and Lane is fled,
Now for black Fitzwilliam's head
We'll send it over, dripping red,
To Liza and the ladies
Chorus
Celtic
Voices - Woman
SHE
MOVED THROUGHT THE FAIR
My young love said to me, 'My mother wont mind
And my father wont slight you for your lack of kind
And she stepped away from me and this she did say
'It will not be long, love, till our wedding day.'
She went away from me, and moved through the fair,
And fondly I watched her, move here and move there,
Then she went homeward with one star awake -
As the swan in the evening moves over the lake
Last night I lay dreaming, my true love came in
So softly she came that her feet made no din
She laid her hand on me, and this she did say
'It will not be long, love, 'till our wedding day'.
Celtic
Voices - Woman
A
STOR LIOM - GRA MO CHROI
My love, he sat down by my side
Saying that war would shortly part us
Cruel the fate that falls to us
Astor liom - gra mo chroi
As he sailed out from the shore
My poor heart was surely breaking
Praying for winds to bring him home
Astor liom - gra mo chroi
But the wind that blows through the valley
Came in whispers, came in softly
For softly comes the banshee's lonely cry
His life is no more, his blood stains far off shores
So I will wear a bonnet black
On my back, a shawl of grey
And in my heart, a sonnet blue
Astor liom - gra mo chroi
Where he's lying in his grave
I must sail and kneel beside him
I will bend and whisper low
Astor liom - gra mo chroi
Celtic
Voices - Woman
SPINNING WHEEL
Mellow, the moonlight to shine is beginning,
Close by the window young Eileen is spinning,
Bent o'er the fire, her blind grandmother sitting,
Crooning and moaning and drowsily knitting.
Merrily, cheerily, noiselessly whirring,
Spins the wheel, rings the wheel, while the foot's
stirring.
Lightly and brightly and airily ringing,
Sounds the sweet voice of the young maiden singing.
What's the noise that I hear at the window I wonder,
'Tis the little birds chirping the holly-bush under
What makes you be shoving and moving your stool on.
And singing, all wrong, that old song of The Coolun?
There's a form at the casement - the form of her true
love,
And he whispers, with face bent, I'm waiting for you,
love,
Get up from the stool, through the lattice step lightly.
We'll rove in the grove while the moon's shining brightly.
Merrily, cheerily, noiselessly whirring,
Spins the wheel, rings the wheel, while the foot's
stirring.
Sprightly and lightly and airily ringing,
Trills the sweet voice of the young maiden singing.
The maid shakes her head, on her lip lays her fingers,
Steals up from the stool - longs to go and yet lingers.
A frightened glance turns to her drowsy grandmother,
Puts one foot on the stool, spins the wheel with the
other.
Lazily, easily, swings now the wheel round,
Slowly and lowly is heard now the reel's sound,
Noiseless and light to the lattice above her,
The maid steps - then leaps to the arms of her lover.
Slower - and slower - and slower the wheel swings
Lower - and lower - and lower the reel rings;
Ere the reel and the wheel stop their ringing and
moving,
Through the grove the young lovers by moonlight are
roving
Celtic
Voices - Woman
THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S
HALLS
The harp that once thro' Tara's Hall the soul of music
shed.
Now hangs as mute on Tara's wall as if that soul were
fled.
So sleeps the pride of former days so glory's thrill
is o'er.
And hearts that once beat high for praise now feel
that pulse no more
No more to chiefs and ladies bright, the harp of Tara
swells
The chord alone, that breaks at night, it's tale of
ruin tells
This freedom now so seldom wakes, the only throb she
gives
Is when some heart indignant breaks, to show that
still she lives
Celtic
Voices - Woman
