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    Amhrán na bhFiann - national anthem (1)   A Soldier's Song - national anthem (2)    A Bucket of the Mountain Dew    A Bunch of Thyme   Admiral William Brown   A Fenian Song    A Little Bit of Heaven    All Around My Hat   A Man You Don't Meet Every Day    A Mothers Love Is A Blessing   A Muirsheen Durkin    A Nation Once Again    And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda    A Night To Remember    An Irishman's Dream    The Armagh Sniper   Arthur McBride    A Stór Mo Chroi     B      Back Home In Derry    Ballyroan   The Bard of Armagh    Barry's Column    Belfast Brigade   Believe Me If All Those Endearing Young Charms    The Birmingham Six   The Black And Tan Gun    Black And Tans    Black Is the Colour    Black Velvet Band    The Bold Black And Tan    The Bold Fenian Men    The Bold O'Donohue    Bold Robert Emmet    Bold Tenant Farmer   Bonnie Kellswater    Boolavogue (1)    Boolavogue (2)   Botany Bay    The Boys From the County Armagh   The Boys From the County Cork   The Boys From the County Mayo   Boys of Fairhill   The Boys of Kilkenny    The Boys of Killybegs   Boys of Kilmichael    Boys of the Old Brigade    Bread And Fishes   Brennan On the Moor    Bridgit O'Malley    Bring Them Home   Broad Black Brimmer    Buachaill Ón Éirne      C      Carrickfergus (1)    Carrickfergus (2)    The Cliffs of Doneen    Cockles And Mussels (Molly Malone)    Comical Genius   Courtin' In the Kitchen    The Crack Was Ninety In the Isle of Man    The Creggan White Hare   The Croppy Boy    The Curragh of Kildare      D      Danny Boy    The Dawning of the Day    Dear Boss (The Sick Note)    The Dear Little Shamrock   Death Of Schomberg   The Decommissioning Song   Derry's Deathless Story   De Valera   The Devil And Bailiff McGlynn   Dicey Reilly    Did Your Mother Come From Ireland   Dingle Bay   Dirty Old Town    Down By the Glenside    Down By the Salley Gardens    Do You Want Your Old Lobby Washed Down    Dublin Jack of All Trades      E      Easy And Slow    Eileen Aroon    Erin Go Bragh      F      The Fair At Turloughmore    Fairytale of New York    Fare Thee Well Enniskillen (1)    Fare Thee Well Enniskillen (2)   Farewell To Dublin In My Tears   The Fenian Record Player   The Fenians' Escape    Fiddlers Green    The Fields of Athenry    Finnegan's Wake    Flight of Earls    Flower of Sweet Strabane    The Foggy Dew    Follow Me Up To Carlow    Forty Shades of Green    For What Died the Sons of Róisin   Four Green Fields    Freedom Sons   Free The People   From Clare to Here (1)   From Clare to Here (2)     G      Gallipoli   Galway Bay    Galway Farmer    The Galway Races (1)    The Galway Races (2)   The Galway Races (3)   Gardai 'N Rí   The Garden Where the Praties Grow   Garryowen    Give Me Your Hand   God Bless England    God Save Ireland    Goodbye Mick   The Green Fields of France      H      Hills of Connemara    How Are Things In Glocca Morra      I      If I Was A Blackbird    If You're Irish...    I'll Take You Home Again Kathleen    I'll Tell Me Ma    I.R.E.L.A.N.D.    The Irish Emigrant    The Irish Free State   The Irish Mail Robber   The Irish Rover (1)    The Irish Rover (2)    Irish Soldier Boy    Irish Soldier Laddie    Irish Ways And Irish Laws   Isle of Hope, Isle of Tears   Isle of Inishfree   It Was Pretty To Be In Ballinderry      J      James Connolly    Johnny Has Gone For A Soldier (Shule Agra)    Johnny Be Fair    Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye    Johnson's Motor Car    The Jolly Beggarman    Jug of Punch    Just Give Me Your Hand      K      Kathleen Mavourneen    Kelly of Killane    The Kerry Dance    The Kerry Recruit    Kevin Barry      L      Lakes of Coolfin   Lakes of Pontchartrain    The Langer    Lanigan's Ball    The Lark In the Clear Air    Lark In the Morning    The Lass of Aughrim   The Leaving of Liverpool (1)    The Leaving of Liverpool (2)    The Legion of the Rearguard    Limerick You're A Lady   Little Grey Home In the West   Lord Nelson    Lord of the Dance      M      MacNamara's Band    Macushla   The Maid Who Sold Her Barley    Maids When You're Young    The Man From the Daily Mail    Many Young Men of Twenty   Mc Alpine's Fusiliers    The Meeting of the Waters    The Men Behind the Wire    The Men of the West    The Merry Ploughboy    Michael Collins    The Minstrel Boy    Mo Ghile Mear    Molly Malone (Cockles And Mussels)    The Mountain Tay    Mountains of Mourne    My Uncle Is In the Dáil      N      Nell Flaherty's Drake    Nelson's Farewell    No Irish Need Apply      O      O'Donnell Abu    Old Fenian Gun   The Old Man   Only Our Rivers Run Free    On Midsummer Day    On the One Road    The Ould Woman From Wexford   Our Lads In Crumlin Jail     P      Paddy McGinty's Goat    Paddy's Green Shamrock Shore (1)    Paddy's Green Shamrock Shore (2)   Paddy's Green Shamrock Shore (3)   Paddy's Lamentation   Padraig Pearse   The Parting Glass    Patrick Street   The Patriot Game    Peggy Gordon    Peggy Lettermore (1)   Peggy Lettermore (2)   The Peoples Own M.P.   Pick Up Your Rifle   Poor Paddy On the Railway    Preab San Ol   Pretty Little Girl From Omagh     Q      Queen of Connemara     R      Raglan Road    The Rare Oul' Times    Red Is the Rose    Reilly's Daughter (1)    Reilly's Daughter (2)    The Reluctant Patriot    The Rifles of the I.R.A.    The Rising of the Moon (1)    The Rising of the Moon (2)    Roads of Kildare   Rocky Road To Dublin    Roddy McCorley    Róisin Dubh   The Rose of Mooncoin    The Rose of Tralee    Rosin the Beau      S      The Sea Around Us    Sean South of Garryowen    Seven Drunken Nights (1)    Seven Drunken Nights (2)   The Shores of Amerikay    Shule Agra (Johnny Has Gone For A Soldier)    The Sick Note (Dear Boss)    Skibbereen (1)    Skibbereen (2)    Slane (Be Thou My Vision)    Slievenamon   The Snowy Breasted Pearl    Spancil Hill    The Spanish Lady    The Spinning Wheel    Star of the County Down (1)    Star of the County Down (2)    Step It Out Mary    The Stone Outside Dan Murphy's Door   The Streets of New York   Sullivan's John    Summer In Dublin     T      Take Her Up To Monto (1)   Take Her Up To Monto (2)   Tara's Harp    They Never Came Home (Stardust Song)    The Thirty-Two Counties    This Land Is Your Land (1)   This Land Is Your Land (2)   This Land Is Your Land (3)   Three Leaf Shamrock   The Tinker   The Town I Loved So Well    Tri-Coloured Ribbon   'T Was Pretty To Be In Ballinderry      V      The Valley of Knockanure      W      Waxies Dargle    The Wearing of the Green    Weila Waila    The West's Awake    The Wexford Carol   When Irish Eyes Are Smiling    When You Were Sweet Sixteen   Where the River Shannon Flows   Where the Three Counties Meet   Whiskey In the Jar (1)    Whiskey In the Jar (2)    Whiskey You're the Devil    Whistling Gypsy    The Wild Colonial Boy    The Wild Rover    Will You Come To the Bower    The Winds Are Singing Freedom    The Wind That Shakes the Barley      Z      Zoological Gardens   

Top of page


Oh, me name is MacNamara I'm the leader of the band
Although we're few in numbers we're the finest in the land
We play at wakes and weddings and at every fancy ball
And when we play at funerals we play the March From Saul

Chorus: Oh, the drums go bang and the cymbals clang
And the horns they blaze away
McCarthy pumps the old bassoon while I the pipes do play
And Hennessey Tennessee tootles the flute
And the music is something grand
A credit to old Ireland is MacNamara's band

Right now we are rehearsin' for a very swell affair
The annual celebration - all the gentry will be there
When General Grant to Ireland came, he took me by the hand
Says he,"I never saw the likes of MacNamara's band"

Oh! My name is Uncle Yulius and from Sweden I have come
To play with MacNamara's band and beat the big bass drum
And when I march along the street  The ladies think I'm grand
They shout "There's Uncle Yulius playing with an Irish band"

Oh, I wear a bunch of shamrocks and a uniform of green
And I am the funniest lookin' Swede that you have ever seen
There's O'Briens and Ryans and Sheehans and Meehans
they come from Ireland, But by yimminy
I'm the only Swede in MacNamara's band

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(Josephine Rowe/Dermot MacMurrough)

Macushla! Macushla! Your sweet voice is calling
Calling me softly again and again
Macushla! Macushla! I hear its dear pleading
My blue eyed Macushla, I hear it in vain

Macushla! Macushla! Your white arms are reaching
I feel their enfolding caressing me still
Fling them out from the darkness, my lost love
Macushla, let them find me and bind me again if they will

Macushla! Macushla! Your red lips are saying
That death is a dream and love is for aye
Then awaken Macushla, awake from your dreaming
My blue eyed Macushla, awaken to stay

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An old man came courting me, hey ding a doorum dah
An old man came courting me, me being young
An old man came courting me, all for his wife to be
Maids when you're young never wed an old man

For he's got no faloo doo rum, fal diddle oo doo rum
He's got no faloo doo rum, fal diddle day
He's got no faloo doo rum, lost his ding doo reeum
Maids when you're young never wed an old man

When this old man comes to bed, hey ding a doorum dah
When this old man comes to bed, me being young
When this old man comes to bed, he lays like a lump of lead
Maids when you're young never wed an old man


When this old man goes to sleep, hey ding a doorum dah
When this old man goes to sleep, me being young
When this old man goes to sleep, out of bed I do creep
Into the arms of a handsome young man


I wish this old man would die, hey ding a doorum dah
I wish this old man would die, me being young
I wish this old man would die, I'd make the money fly
Girls for your sakes never wed an old man


A young man is my delight, hey ding a doorum dah
A young man is my delight, me being young
A young man is my delight, he'll kiss you day and night
Maids when you're young never wed an old man


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It's cold and raw, the north winds blow
Black in the morning early
When all the hills were covered with snow
Oh then it was winter fairly
As I was riding o'er the moor
I met a farmer's daughter
Her cherry cheeks and coal-black hair
They caused my heart to falter

I bowed my bonnet very low
To let her know my meaning
She answered with a courteous smile
Her looks they were engaging
"Where are you bound my pretty maid
It's now in the morning early?"
The answer that she gave to me
"Kind sir, to sell my barley"

"Now twenty guineas I've in my purse
And twenty more that's yearly
You need not go to the market town
For I'll buy all your barley
If twenty guineas would gain the heart
Of the maid I love so dearly
All for to tarry with me one night
And go home in the morning early"

As I was riding o'er the moor
The very evening after
It was my fortune for to meet
The farmer's only daughter
Although the weather being cold and raw
With her I thought to parlay
The answer that she gave to me
"Kind sir, I've sold my barley"

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Now Ireland's a very funny place, sir
it's a strange and a troubled land
and the Irish are a very funny race, sir
every girl's in the Cumann na mBan
Every doggie wears a tri-coloured ribbon tied firmly to its tail
and it wouldn't be surprising if there'd be another rising,
said the man from the Daily Mail

Every bird, upon my word is singing 'treble! I'm a rebel!'
every hen it's said is laying hand grenades over there sir! I declare Sir!
And every cock in the farmyard stock crows in triumph for the Gael
and it wouldn't be surprising if there'd be another rising,
said the man from the Daily Mail

Now the other day I travelled down to Clare, sir
I spied in an old boreen a bunch of busy gooses there, sir
dressed in orange, white and green
They marched to the German goose step as they whistled Grann na bheal
and I'm shakin' in me shoes as I'm sending out the news,
said the man from the Daily Mail


Slow verse (almost spoken):
Now the whole place is seething with sedition,
it's Sinn Fein through and through
All the peelers they are joining local units
and the password's Sinn Fein too
Every doggie wears a tri-coloured ribbon tied firmly to its tail
and it wouldn't be surprising if there'd be another rising,
said the man from the Daily Mail

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Many young men of twenty said goodbye
All that long day
From break of dawn until the sun was high
Many young men of twenty said goodbye

My boy Jimmy went that day
On the big ship sailed away
Sailed away and left me here to die
Many young men of twenty said goodbye

I met my love upon the mountain Rim
The day he left
I knew I bore a living child of him
I knew I bore a living child of him

And the child was born to me
Jimmy's gone across the sea
Jimmy's gone and here alone am I
Many young men of twenty said goodbye

My Jimmy said he'd sail across the sea
He swore his oath
He'd sail back home one day and marry me
He'd sail back home one day and marry me

But my Jimmy let me down
Now they mock me in the town
Oh my Jimmy please come back to me
Oh my Jimmy please come back to me

Many young men of twenty said goodbye
All that long day
From break of dawn until the sun was high
Many young men of twenty said goodbye

They left the mountains and the glens
The lasses and the fine young men
I saw the tears of every girl and boy
Many young men of twenty said goodbye

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As down the glen came McAlpine's men with their shovels slung behind them
It was in the pub that they drank their sub or down in the spike you'll find them
We sweated blood and we washed down mud with quarts and pints of beer
But now we're on the raod again with McAlpine's Fusiliers

I stripped to the skin with Darky Finn down upon the Isle of Grain
With Horseface Toole I learned the rule, no money if you stop for rain
For McAlpine's god is a well filled hod with your shoulders cut to bits and seared
And woe to he who looks for tea with McAlpine's Fusilers

I remember the day that the Bear O'Shea fell into a concrete stair
What Horseface said, when he saw him dead, well it wasn't what the rich call prayers
"I'm a navvy short" was his one retort that reached into my ears
When the going is rough, well you must be tough with McAlpine's Fusiliers

I've worked till the sweat near had me beat with Russian, Czech and Pole
At shuttering jams up in the hydro dams or underneath the Thames in a hole
I grafted hard and I got me cards and many a ganger's fist across me ears
If you pride your life, don't join, by Christ, with McAlpine's Fusiliers

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There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet
Oh! The last rays of feeling and life must depart
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart

Yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green
'Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill
Oh, no! It was something more exquisite still
Oh, no! It was something more exquisite still

'Twas that friends, the belov'd of my bosom were near
Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear
And who felt how the best charms of nature improve
When we see them reflected from looks that we love
When we see them reflected from looks that we love

Sweet vale of Avoca! How calm could I rest
In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best
Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace

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Armored cars and tanks and guns came to take away our sons!
But every man must stand behind the men behind the wire!

In the little streets of Belfast, in the dark of early morn
British soldiers came a-running, wrecking little homes with scorn
Hear the sobs of crying children, dragging fathers from their beds
Watch the scenes as helpless mothers watch the blood fall from their heads


Not for them a judge or jury, nor for them a crime at all
Being Irish means they're guilty, so they're guilty one and all
Around the world the truth will echo: Cromwell's men are here again!
England's name again is sullied in the eyes of honest men


Proudly march behind our banner; proudly march behind our men!
We will have them free to help us build a nation once again!
Come the people, step together, proudly, firmly on your way
Never fear and never falter, till the boys come home to stay!


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When you honor in song and in story
The names of the patriot men
Whose valor has covered with glory
Full many a mountain and glen
Forget not the boys of the heather
Who rallied their bravest and best
When Ireland was broken in Wexford
And looked for revenge to the West

I give you the gallant old West, boys
Where rallied our bravest and best
When Ireland lay broken and bleeding;
Hurrah for the men of the West!

The hilltops with glory were glowing
'Twas the eve of a bright harvest day
When the ship we'd been wearily waiting
Sailed into Killala's broad bay
And over the hills went the slogan
To awaken in every breast
The fire that has never been quenched, boys
Among the true hearts of the West


Killala was ours ere the midnight
And high over Ballina town
Our banners in triumph were waving
Before the next sun had gone down
We gathered to speed the good work, boys
The true men from near and afar
And history can tell how we routed
The redcoats through old Castlebar


And pledge me the stout sons of France, boys
Bold Humbert and all his brave men
Whose tramp, like the trumpet of battle
Brought hope to the drooping again
Since Ireland has caught to her bosom
On many a mountain and hill
The gallants who fell, so they're here, boys
To cheer us to victory still


Though all the bright dreamings we cherished
Went down in disaster and woe
The spirit of old is still with us
That never would bend to the foe
And Connacht is ready whenever
The loud rolling tuck of the drum
Rings out to awaken the echoes
And tell us the morning has come


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(Dominic Behan)

I am a green on the green boy, and I'm here to sing to you
And in case you didn't know it, I'm Irish thru and thru

No matter where I chance to roam, over land or sea or sky
Beneath the orange, white and green, for Ireland, boys, I'll die!

We're off to Dublin in the green, in the green
Where the helmets glisten in the sun
Where the bayonets flash and the rifles crash
To the echo of a Thompson gun

I am a merry ploughboy and I ploughed the fields all day
Till a sudden thought came to my head that I should roam away

For I'm tired of civilian life since the day that I was born
So I'm off to join the IRA and I'm off tomorrow morn

Alternate chorus:
And we're off to Dublin with the green on the green
And the bayonets glitterin' in the sun
And the Tans they fly like lightnin' from
The rattle of me Thompson gun!

I'll leave aside my pick and spade, I'll leave aside my plough
I'll leave aside my old grey mare, no more I'll need them now

And I'll leave aside my Mary, she's the one that I adore
I wonder if she'll think of me when she hears the rifles roar

I'll take my Sharps revolver and my bandolero so
And with my comrades by my side, we'll fight a foreign foe!

I had a girl I left behind, and her name was Mary, dear
And I hope that she proves true to me whenever I'm not near

And when the war is over and dear old Ireland's free
I'll take her to the church to wed and a rebel's wife she'll be

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(written by Derek Warfield)

Come listen all me true men to my simple rhyme
For it tells of a young man cut off in his prime
A soldier and a statesman who laid down the law, and
To die by the roaside in lone Beal na Blath
When barely sixteen to England crossed o'er
For to work as a boy in a government store
But the Volunteers call he could not disobey
So he came back to Dublin to join in the fray

At Easter nineteen sixteen when Pearse called them out
The men from the Dublin battalion roved out
And in the post office they nobley did show
How a handful of heros could outfight the foe

To Stafford and jails transported they were
As prisoners of England they soon made a stir
Released before Christmas and home once again
He banded old comrades together to train
Dáil Éireann assembled, our rights to proclaim
Suppressed by the English you'd think it's a shame
How Ireland's best and bravest were harried and torn
From the arms of their loved ones and children newborn

For years Mick eluded their soldiers and spies
For he was the master of clever disguise
With the Custom House blazing she found t'was no use
And soon Mother England had asked for a truce
Oh when will the young men a sad lesson spurn
That brother and brother they never should turn
Alas that a split in our ranks 'ere we saw
Mick Collins stretched lifeless in lone Beal na Blath

Oh long will old Ireland be seeking in vain
Ere we find a new leader to match the man slain
A true son of Grainne his name long will shine
O gallant Mick Collins cut off in his prime

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The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone
In the ranks of death you will find him
His father's sword he hath girded on
And his wild harp slung behind him
"Land of Song!" said the warrior bard
"Tho' all the world betrays thee
One sword, at least, they rights shall guard
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"

The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's chain
Could not bring that proud soul under
The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again
For he tore its chords asunder
And said "No chains shall sully thee
Thou soul of love and brav'ry!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free,
They shall never sound in slavery!"

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Seal da rabhas im' mhaighdean shéimh
'S anois im' bhaintreach chaite thréith
Mo chéile ag treabhadh na dtonn go tréan
De bharr na gcnoc is i n-imigcéin

 'Sé mo laoch, mo Ghile Mear
 'Sé mo Chaesar, Ghile Mear
 Suan ná séan ní bhfuaireas féin
 Ó chuaigh i gcéin mo Ghile Mear

Bímse buan ar buaidhirt gach ló
Ag caoi go cruaidh 's ag tuar na ndeór
Mar scaoileadh uaim an buachaill beó
'S ná ríomhtar tuairisc uaidh, mo bhrón

Ní labhrann cuach go suairc ar nóin
Is níl guth gadhair i gcoillte cnó
Ná maidin shamhraidh i gcleanntaibh ceoigh
” d'imthigh uaim an buachaill beó

Marcach uasal uaibhreach óg
Gas gan gruaim is suairce snódh
Glac is luaimneach, luath i ngleo
Ag teascadh an tslua 's ag tuargain treon

Seinntear stair ar chlairsigh cheoil
's líontair táinte cárt ar bord
Le hinntinn ard gan chaim, gan cheó
Chun saoghal is sláinte d' fhagháil dom leómhan

Ghile mear 'sa seal faoi chumha
's Eire go léir faoi chlócaibh dubha
Suan ná séan ní bhfuaireas féin
Ó luaidh i gcéin mo Ghile Mear

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(also known as COCKLES AND MUSSELS)

In Dublin's fair city where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheels her wheel barrow through the streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive alive-o

Alive alive-o, alive alive-o
Crying cockles and mussels alive alive-o

She was a fishmonger but sure 'twas no wonder
For so were her father and mother before
And they both wheeled their barrow
through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive alive-o

She died of a fever and no one could save her
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone
But her ghost wheels her barrow
through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive alive-o

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Gather up the pots and the old tin cans
The corn, the mash, the barley and the bran
Run like the devil from the excise man
Keep the smoke from rising, Barney

Swing to left swing to the right,
The excise men will dance all night,
Drinkin' up the tay till the broad daylight
In the hills of Connemara

Oh the excise men are on their way
They're hunting all around for the mountain tay
Oh they won't go away for the devil of a day
In the hills of Connemara


Oh here's a bottle for Uncle Tom
And here's a gallon for Father John
To help the poor old dear along
Through the hills of Connemara

Well, stand your ground for it's too late
The excise men are at the gate
Oh, glory be to Jesus, they're drinking it straight
In the hills of Connemara


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Oh, Mary, this London's a wonderful sight
With people here working by day and by night
They don't sow potatoes, nor barley, nor wheat
But there' gangs of them digging for gold in the streets
At least when I asked them that's what I was told
So I just took a hand at this diggin' for gold
But for all that I found there I might as well be
Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea

I believe that when writin' a wish you expressed
As to how the fine ladies in London were dressed
Well, if you believe me, when asked to a ball
Faith, they don't wear a top to their dresses at all.
Oh, I've seen them myself and you could not in truth
Say if they were bound for a ball or a bath
Don't be startin' them fashions now, Mary Macree
Where the mountains of Mourne sweep out to the sea

You remember young Peter O'Loughlin, of course
Well, now he is here at the head of the force
I met him today, I was crossing the Strand
And he stopped the whole street with a wave of his hand
And there we stood talkin' of days that are gone
While the whole population of London looked on
But for all these great powers he's wishful like me
To be back where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea

There's beautiful girls here, oh, never you mind
With beautiful shapes nature never designed
And lovely complexions all roses and cream
But O'Loughlin remarked with regard to the same
That if at those roses you ventured to sip
The colors might all come away on your lip
So I'll wait for the wild rose that's waitin' for me
Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea

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[Help me to replace the ?'s with the correct words: e-mail]

It was at the last election that me uncle Pat got in
he was always fond of politics and the ?same? I knew he'd win
he made such pretty promises to the people one and all
that's how he got elected as a member of the Dáil

Oh, me uncle is a T.D. me boys, me uncle is a T.D.
and that's the very reason why ??? ??? with me
me brother was made a foreman, though he never built a wall
yea, but then you'll see my uncle, he's a member of the Dáil

Now, he's no good at learnin', sure he never went to school
but that's no disadvantage in this country as a rule
he was in the county council, but you know that ??? them all
??? my uncle, he's a member of the Dáil

Oh, me uncle is a T.D. me boys, me uncle is a T.D.
and that's the very reason why ??? ??? with me
he got a pension for me father, though he's not blind at all
yea, but then you'll see my uncle, he's a member of the Dáil

Now, he's no fun to argue with, sure he's as quiet as a mouse
??? ??? up there in Leinster House
he never lips with either side Fine Gael or Fianna Fáil
so long as he draws a salary as a member of the Dáil

Oh, me uncle is a T.D. me boys, me uncle is a T.D.
and his sister's going to marry a ministers secretary
she met him up in Dublin in the Gresham at a ball
that's how they got aquainted through me uncle in the Dáil

Now, we're the finest family that ever yet was seen
we make a tidy packet from the makin' of poitin
it goes across the border and up to Donegal
and they drink it in the lobbies with my uncle in the Dáil

Oh, me uncle is a T.D. me boys, me uncle is a T.D.
and me mother got a pension at the age of forty-three
for we draw family allowance though we've no kids at all
yea, but then you'll see my uncle, he's a member of the Dáil

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My name it is Nell, and the truth for to tell
I come from Cootehill, which I'll never deny
I had a large drake, and the truth for to speak
My grandmother left me, and she going to die
He was wholesome and sound; he weighed twenty pound
And the universe 'round I would rove for his sake
Bad luck to the robber, be he drunk or sober
That murdered Nell Flaherty's beautiful drake
His neck it was green, he was rare to be seen
He was fit for a Queen of the highest degree
His body so white, it would give you delight
He was fat, plump and heavy, and brisk as a bee
My dear little fellow, his legs, they were yellow
He would fly like a swallow, and swim like a hake
Until some wicked savage, to grease his white cabbage
He murdered Nell Flaherty's beautiful drake

May his pig never grunt, may his cat never hunt
May a ghost always haunt him in the dead of the night
May his hen never lay, may his ass never bray
May his coat fly away like an old paper kite
May the lice and the fleas the wretch ever tease
May the pinching north breeze make him tremble and shake
May a four-year-old bug build a nest in the lug
Of the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty's Drake
May his cock never crow, may his bellows ne'er blow
And a-pot or po, may he never have one
May his cradle not rock, may his box have no lock
May his wife have no smock to shield her back bone
May his duck never quack, and his goose turn quite black
And pull down the turf with his long yellow beak
May scurvy and itch, not depart from the breech
Of the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty's Drake

May his pipe never smoke, may his teapot be broke
And to add to the joke may his kettle not boil
May he lay in the bed 'till the moment he's dead
May he always be fed on lob-scouse and fish oil
May he swell with the gout, may his grinders fall out
May he roar, bawl and shout, with the horrid toothache
May his temples wear horns, and all his toes corns
The monster that murdered Nell Flaherty's drake
May his spade never dig, may his sow never pig
Every nit on his head be as large as a snail
May his house have no thatch and his door have no latch
May his turkey not hatch, may the rats eat his meal
May every old fairy from Cork to Dunleary
Dip him in snug and easy in some pond or lake
Where the eel and the trout may slime in the snout
Of the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty's Drake

May his dog yelp and growl with hunger and cold
May his wife always scold 'till his brain goes astray
May the curse of each hag, that e'er carried a bag
Alight on his nag till his beard it turns grey
May monkeys still bite him, and man-apes affright him
And everyone slight him asleep or awake
May weasels still gnaw him, and jackdaws still claw him
The monster that murdered Nell Flaherty's Drake
Then all the good news l have to diffuse
'Tis for Peter Hughes, and blind Peter McFree
There's big nosed Bob Manson, and buck-toothed Ned Hanson
Each man has a grandson of my darling Drake
My bird he had dozens of nephews and cousins
And one I must get or my heart it will break
To keep my mind easy or else l'll run crazy
So this ends the song of Nell Flaherty's Drake

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(The Dubliners)

Oh well, poor aul' Admiral Nelson is no longer in the air
On the eighth day of March, in Dublin city fair
from his stand of stones and mortar
he fell crashing through the quarter
where once he stood so stiff and proud and rude!
So let's sing our celebration
as a service to the nation
so poor aul' admiral Nelson, toodle-oo!

Of fifty pounds of gelignite it sped him on his way
and the lad that laid the charge, we're in debt to him today!
In Trafalgar Square it might be fair
to leave aul' Nelson standing there
but no one tells the Irish what they'll view!
So the Dublin Corporation
can stop deliberations
for the boys of Ireland showed them what to do

A hundred and fifty-seven years it stood up there in state
to mark aul' Nelson's victory o'er the French and Spanish fleet
But 1:30 in the morning
without a bit of warning
aul' Nelson took a powder, and he blew!
So at last the Irish nation
had Parnell in higher station
than good old admiral Nelson, toodle-oo!

Oh the Russians and the Yanks with their lunar probes they play
and I hear the French are trying hard to make up lost headway
But now the Irish join the race
we have an astronaut in space!
Ireland, boys, is now a world power, too!
So let's sing our celebration
as a service to the nation
so poor aul' admiral Nelson, toodle-oo!

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I'm a decent boy just landed
From the town of Ballyfad
I want a situation, yes
And want it very bad
I have seen employment advertised
"It's just the thing" says I
"But the dirty spalpeen ended with
'No Irish Need Apply' "

"Whoa," says I, "that's an insult
But to get the place I'll try"
So I went to see the blackguard
With his "No Irish Need Apply"
Some do count it a misfortune
To be christened Pat or Dan
But to me it is an honor
To be born an Irishman

I started out to find the house,
I got it mighty soon
There I found the old chap seated
He was reading the Tribune
I told him what I came for
When he in a rage did fly
"No!" he says, "You are a Paddy
And no Irish need apply"

Then I gets my dander rising
And I'd like to black his eye
To tell an Irish gentleman
"No Irish Need Apply"
Some do count it a misfortune
To be christened Pat or Dan
But to me it is an honor
To be born an Irishman

I couldn't stand it longer
So a hold of him I took
And gave him such a welting
As he'd get at Donnybrook
He hollered, "Milia murther"
And to get away did try
And swore he'd never write again
"No Irish Need Apply"

Well he made a big apology
I told him then goodbye
Saying, "When next you want a beating
Write 'No Irish Need Apply' "
Some do count it a misfortune
To be christened Pat or Dan
But to me it is an honor
To be born an Irishman

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(The Clan Connell War Song, M.J.McAnn circa 1843)

Proudly the note of the trumpet is sounding
Loudly the warcries arise on the gale
Fleetly the steed by Lough Swilly is bounding
To join the thick squadrons on Saimiers green vale!
On every mountaineer! Stranger to flight or fear!
Rush to the standard of dauntless Red Hugh!
Bonnaught and Gallowglass, throng from each mountain pass!
Onward for Erin! O'Donnell abu!

Princely O'Neill to our aid is advancing
With many a chieftain and warrior clan!
A thousand proud steeds in his vanguard are prancing
Neath the Borderers brave from the banks of the Bann!
Many a heart shall quail under its coat of mail
Deeply the merciless foeman shall rue
When on his ear shall ring, borne on the breezes wing
TyrConnell's dread war cry O'Donnell abu!

Wildly o'er Desmond the warwolf is howling
Fearless the eagle sweeps over the plain
The fox in the streets of the city is prowling
And all who would conquer them are banished, or slain!
On with O'Donnell then! Fight the good fight again!
Sons of TyrConnell are valiant and true!
Make the proud Saxon feel Erin's avenging steel!
Strike! For your Country! O'Donnell abu!

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It hung above the kitchen fire. It's barrel long and brown
And one day with a boy's desire, I climbed and took it down
My father's eyes in anger flashed. He cried "what have you done?!
I wish you'd left it where it was, That's my old Fenian gun"

I fondled it with love and pride. I looked it o'er and o'er
I placed it on my shoulder And I marched across the floor
My father's anger softened And he shared my boyish fun
"Ah, well" he said "'tis in your breed like that old Fenian gun"

I remember '67 well when lads like you and me
All thought we'd strike another blow to set old Ireland free
But broken were our golden hopes I was long months on the run
But it did good work for Ireland then that brown old Fenian gun

I was down then in Killaloe t'was the hottest fight of all
And you can see he burned his arm there's a mark still on the ball
I hope the young lads growing now will hold the ground we won
And not disgrace the cause in which I held that Fenian gun

I placed it o'er the fire once more. I heard my father sigh
I knew his thoughts were turning back on days now long gone by
And then I vowed within my heart I'll be my father's son
And if ever Ireland wants my aid I'll hold the Fenian gun

That's years ago I've grown a man and I've weathered many a gale
This last long year's been spent inside a gloomy English jail
I've done my part I'll do it still Until the fight is won
When Ireland's free she'll bless the men Who held the Fenian gun

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The tears have all been shed now
We've said our last goodbyes
His souls been blessed
He's laid to rest
And it's now I feel alone
He was more than just a father
A teacher my best friend
He can still be heard
In the tunes we shared
When we play them on our own

I never will forget him
For he made me "what I am"
Though he may be gone
Memories linger on
And I miss him, the old man

As a boy he'd take me walking
By mountain field and stream
And he showed me things
not known to kings
And secret between him and me
Like the colours of the pheasant
As he rises in the dawn
And how to fish and make a wish
Beside the Holly Tree


I thought he'd live forever
He seemed so big and strong
But the minutes fly
And the years roll by
For a father and a son
And suddenly when it happened
There was so much left unsaid
No second chance
To tell him thanks
For everything he's done


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(Michael MacConnell)

When apples still grow in November
When blossoms still bloom from each tree
When leaves are still green in December
It's then that our land will be free
I've wandered her hills and her valleys
And still through her valleys I see
A land that has never known freedom
And only her rivers run free

I drink to the death of her manhood
Those men who'd rather have died
Than to live in the cold chains of bondage
To bring back their rights were denied
Oh, where are you know when we need you
What burns where the flames used to be
Are you gone like the snows of last winter
And will only our rivers run free

How sweet is life but we're crying
How mellow the wine but we're dry
How fragrant the rose but it's dying
How gentle the wind but it sighs
What good is in youth when it's aging
What joy is in eyes that can't see
When there's sorrow in sunshine and flowers
And still only our rivers run free

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On midsummer day in the land of Erin
The war with the Firbolg about to begin
Thrice nine of the children of Danu were killed
In the first bloody hurl match upon the great hill

For four days a terrible slaughter took place
The king of the Firbolg with agonized face
At the Morrigan's screaming while circling above
And blood drenched the country of goddesses' love

  Derry down, down, down, derry down

Yeokay the Firbolg was killed in his flight
The hand of Nuada chopped off in the fight
Tho battle was ended there was just one thing
Nuada was blemished, he could not be king
Avoiding occurrence of political wars
The goddesses' children went to the Fomors
The king of the Fomors, he sent them his son
To rule Danu's children and block out the sun

  Derry down, down, down, derry down

The name of this evil new ruler was Bres
Stole most of their cattle and taxed all the rest
Ogma the champion was sent to fetch wood
The Dagda was forced to build forts fast as he could

They suffered from insult from famine and cold
Bres would not allow them their pleasures to hold
The Armid, the Dianchet and Miach were known
Attempting to help Nuada take back the throne

  Derry down...

They dug up his hand and they put in place
The magic was worked and the pentagrams traced
Sinew to sinew and nerve to nerve fold
Nuada's eyes glistened and he became whole

A poet and tale teller deserved some respect
I sang songs for Bres tho I didn't expect
To be thrown in a dungeon, no fire, no bread
A curse upon Bres was the next thing I read

  Derry down...

No meat on the plates and no milk of the cows
No money for minstrels, no homes for ourselves
By hoarding and taxing he says he conserves
May Bres receive what he truly deserves

The magic began as the magic was said
And his face became covered with blotches bright red
By being a tyrant he was made a fool
The result of this blemish was he could not rule

  Derry down...

And Nuada returned to the throne once again
And the children of Danu rejoiced to the end
By feasting and drinking all night till we fold
the triumphant children of goddess of old

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We're on the one road
Sharing the one load
We're on the road to God knows where
We're on the one road
It may be the wrong road
But we're together now who cares
North men, South men, comrades all
Dublin, Belfast, Cork and Donegal
We're on the one road swinging along
Singing a soldier's song

Though we've had our troubles now and then
Now is the time to make them up again
Sure aren't we all Irish anyhow
Now is the time to step together now

(Chorus repeat)

Tinker, tailor, every mother's son
Butcher, baker shouldering his gun
Rich man, poor man, every man in line
All together just like Old Lang Syne

(Chorus repeat)

Night is darkest just before the dawn
From dissention Ireland is reborn
Soon we'll all be United Irishmen
Make our land a Nation Once Again

(Chorus repeat)

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Well, there was an old woman from Wexford
And in Wexford she did well
She lovered old man dearly
But another one twice as well

With me tiggery tiggery-toram
And me toram-toram-ta

Ah one day she went to a doctor
Some medicine for to find
She said, 'Will ye give me something
That'll make my ould man blind?'

Says he, 'Give me eggs and marrow bones
And make him sup them all
And it won't be so very long after
That he won't see you at all.'

Well the doctor wrote a letter
And he signed it with his hand
He sent it to the ould man
Just to let him understand

So she fed him the eggs and the marrow bones;
And she made him sup them all
And it wasn't so very long after
That he couldn't see the wall

Says th'ould man 'I think I'll drown meself
But that might be a sin.'
Says she, 'I'll come along with you
And I'll help to shove you in.'

Well the ould woman she stood back a bit
For to rush an' push him in
But the ould man gently stepped aside
And she went tumblin' in

Oh, how lowdly she did yell
And how loudly she did bawl
'Arra, hould yer whist, y'ould woman
Sure I can't see you at all

Ah, sure eggs, eggs and marrow bones
Will make yer ould man blind
But, if you want to drown him
You must creep up close behind
With me tiggery tiggery-toram
And me toram-toram-ta
With me tiggery tiggery-toram
And the blind man he could see

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In Ireland's fight for freedom, boys, the North has played her part
And though her day has yet to come, we never yet must part
We'll keep the fight until the end, we know we cannot fail

And there's the reason why today they keep our lads in Crumlin Jail
So join the fight, you volunteers, it cannot be denied
That jail won't break their spirits down

They'd just as soon have died for England know
And England hates our fearless Northern name
And that's another reason why they keep our lads in Crumlin Jail

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