CD Lyrics
SLIEVE GALLION BRAES
Oh, as I was out walking one morning in May
To view the fair hills and mountains so gay,
I was thinking on yon flowers all doomed to decay
That bloom about ye bonnie, bonnie Slieve Gallion Braes.
Oh, how oft in the morning with my dog and my gun
Have I wandered those hills for sport and for fun?
Oh, those days they are now over, and I am far away,
So farewell unto ye bonnie, bonnie Slieve Gallion Braes.
And how oft in the evening with the sunset in the West
Have I roamed hand in hand with the girl that I loved best?
Oh, the hopes of youth are vanquished, how soon they fade away,
So farewell unto ye bonnie, bonnie Slieve Gallion Braes.
Oh, it was not for want of employment at home
That caused our poor sons of old Erin to roam,
It was those tyranizing landlords who would not let us stay
So farewell unto ye bonnie, bonnie Slieve Gallion Braes.
For the rents were getting higher and we could no longer pay
So farewell unto ye bonnie, bonnie Slieve Gallion Braes.
THE PLAINS OF KILDARE SET
Oh, you gallant sportsmen all, come and listen to my story
'Bout the bold Skewball, that noble racing pony.
Arthur Marvell was the man who first brought Skewball over.
He's the diamond of the land and he rolls the fields in clover.
Right-fol-la-de-yay
Oh, the horses were brought out with saddle, whip and bridle
And the gentlemen did shout for to see the noble riders.
And some did shout "Hurray!" though the air was thick with curses.
On the grey Griselda, the sportsmen laid their purses.
Oh, the trumpet it did sound, Skewball shot off like an arrow.
He scarcely touched the ground but the going it was narrow.
Griselda passed him by and the gentlemen did holler,
"Oh, the Grey will win the day and the Skewball, he will follow!"
In the middle of the track, up spoke the noble rider,
"I fear we must fall back for she's going like a tiger!"
Up spoke the noble horse, "Ride on, my noble master,
We're halfway 'round the course and now we'll see who's faster!"
And as they did discourse, Skewball flew like light'ning
So swiftly o'er the ground that the mare was overtaken.
"Ride on, my noble horse, for the good two hundred guineas!
Your saddle will be of gold when we pick up our winnings!"
And past the winning post, Skewball flew so handy.
Horse and rider both cried for sherry, wine and brandy.
And there they drank a health to the gallant mare Griselda
And to all who'd lost their money on the sporting plains of Kildare.
THE CLIFFS OF DOONEEN
You may travel far, far from your own native home,
Far away from these islands, away all alone.
But of all the fond places ever I've been
There are none to compare with the Cliffs of Dooneen.
It's a fine place to be on a warm summer's day,
Watching all the fond flowers there do decay
And the hare and lofty pheasant so plain to be seen
Building nests for their young on the Cliffs of Dooneen.
Take a view all around, fond sights you'll see there.
You'll see high rocky hills on the west coast of Clare
And the towns of Kilkee and Kilrush may be seen
From the high rocky shores and the Cliffs of Dooneen.
So farewell to Teamhairin, farewell for a time,
And to all the good people I'm leaving behind
For of all the fond places ever I've been
There are none to compare with the Cliffs of Dooneen.
FHIR A' BHÀTA
How often haunting the highest hilltop,
I scan the ocean thy sail to see?
Wilt come tonight, love? Wilt come tomorrow?
Wilt ever come, love, to comfort me?
Fhir a' bhàta 's na hò ro eile
Oh fare thee well, love, where'er ye be.
They call me fæckle, they call thee false one,
They seek to change me, but all in vain
For thou art my dream yet through the dark night
And every morning I watch the main.
Dost thou remember thy promise made me?
The tartan plaidie? The silken gown?
The ring of gold with thy hair and portrait?
That gown and ring I will never own.
There's not a hamlet (too well I know it)
Where you go wandering or stay a while,
Where all the old folk you win with talking
And charm its maidens with song and smile.
GENERAL GUINNESS AND THE THREE LITTLE JIGS
You've heard of General Wellington who won at Waterloo,
Well, here's a good old Irishman I'll introduce to you.
He comes from down in Dublin, he's a man they all applaud,
For he always found the corkscrew far more handy than the sword!
He's Good Old General Guinness, he's a warrior strong and stout,
He's found on ev'ry bottle front and can't be done without.
His noble name, his worldwide fame deserve three hearty cheers-
Hurrah for General Guinness of the Dublin Boozeliers!
This hale and hearty warrior is worshipped in the ranks
For he does his task inside the cask as well as in the tanks
And he bears the brunt on ev'ry front north, south, east and west
And he wears about a million canteen metals on his chest!
He's Good Old General Guinness, he's won the world's applause,
The man who kept our spirits up in the midst of all our wars,
Who was the first to flirt with Mademoiselle from Armentieres-
Hurrah for General Guinness of the Dublin Boozeliers!
All over Bonnie Scotland, too, the General is seen,
He's served at ev'ry station from Carlisle to Aberdeen.
From Inverness to Galashiels he keeps them warm and bright
And they love to gather 'round him on ev'ry moonlight night.
He's Good Old General Guinness, he's as good as Scottish broth,
The man who turned the Firth of Forth into the Firth of Froth!
All Scotsmen dance the Highland Fling and shout when he appears
"Hurrah for General Guinness of the Dublin Boozeliers!"