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Song #138 from Peter Kennedy's Folksongs of Britain and Ireland,
Schirmer Books 1975. A clever young man gets the girl of his fancy to say
"yes", by saying no.
Tell me, will you tell me truly
Tell me why you scorn me so?
Tell me why whene'er I ask you
Why you always answer no?
Chorus: No sir, no sir, no sir, no-o-o sir
No sir, no sir, no sir, No!
My father was a Spanish merchant
And before he went to sea
He told me to be sure and answer
No to all you said to me.
If when walking in the garden
Plucking flowers all wet with dew
Tell me, would you be offended
If I walked and talked to you?
If when walking in the garden
I should ask you to be mine
And should tell you that I loved you
Would you then my heart decline?
In the garden we were sitting
and her blushes she did show
Tell me would you be offended
If one kiss I did bestow?
Madam, may I tie your garter
Would you let me make so free
If I should get a little bolder
Would you think it wrong of me?
If to bed we went together
and I'd stay till cocks did crow
When I'd say it's time to leave you
Would you ever let me go?
Song #79 from Colm O Lochlainn's More Irish Street Ballads, Pan
Books, 1978. The title first caught our attention, but the fact that it
is one of the most moving, tragic songs of Irish emigration keeps it in
our repertoire.
'Twas on the quay of Limerick City, there I heard a young man say,
"Farewell dear unhappy country, now I'm bound for Amerikay,
Doomed in a foreign land to wander, stranger faces for to see,
Farewell once dear and happy country, Ireland now farewell to thee."
When on Columbia's shore I wander, far from my friends and country dear,
With heartfelt grief and woe I'll ponder on the cause that brought me here.
For want of wages and employment, home and country I must flee
And see in foreign lands enjoyment-Ireland now, farewell to thee.
Oh who can tell the pangs of anguish that I felt to leave this spot
When I knew that I should languish far from my parents humble cot
No more to meet those happy faces, full of honest mirth and glee
Which I met at fairs and races-Ireland now farewell to thee.
No more I'll meet my blue-eyed Mary, blushing like a blooming rose
When in the evening, toiled and weary, on her bosom I'd repose-
How can I be torn from her? What will now become of me
When I no more can gaze upon her? -Ireland now farewell to thee.
My parents dear are broken-hearted, yet they wished me for to go
to the land where work and wages on the people freely flow
But O my country dearest Erin, naught by dread of poverty
Could ever force me for to leave you-Ireland now farewell to thee.
But O should fortune smile upon me, with what joy I would return
Unto my parents and my darlin' that I left behind to mourn
Thoughts like these alone support me; they're my only company.
For in my heart they are engraven-Ireland now farewell to thee.
Song #46, Kennedy's collection. The English lyrics we sing are a poetic
translation done by Peter Kennedy of the original Donegal Irish lyrics,
of which we sing just one verse at the end. This is the first song we learned
in Irish.
Nellie Charles' satin mantle on you
A Sheimidh Eoghainin Duibh
Terry Edwards neck'chief on you
A Sheimidh Eoghainin Duibh
Paddy James' pair of breeches and Hughie Taggart's woolen guernsey
Now wouldn't all those clothes look fine on
A Sheimidh Eoghainin Duibh?
Susie Gallagher's bainin dress upon you…
Seamus Cavanaugh's waistcoaton you..
Sean McSheehan's linen shirt, Manus McMeehan's sou'wester
Pulled down to the collarbone on
A Sheimidh Eoghainin Duibh
If we had you in the marketplace…
A fine bright hat of silk upon you…
All the girls from miles around would fight like wild cat and hound
Which one you'd marry she'd be found with
A Sheimidh Eoghainin Duibh
Would you had been in battle with us…
Before the Spaniards came upon us…
Would you had been with O'Donnell from Corraslieve to Kinsale
We never would have been put down
A Sheimidh Eoghainin Duibh
Once when we were all united…
Before the days we were invaded…
And if the Gaels had not fallen from Cork city to Loch Erne
There would not be a king of Erin but
A Sheimidh Eoghainin Duibh
Mainnte satin Nelidh Shearlais ort
A Sheimidh Eoghainin Duibh
Corsainci Tharlaigh Eamoinn ort
A Sheimidh Eoghainin Duibh
Briste Phadraig Shemais 'gus geansaidh Hudai Thaidhgin
Nar dheas a thiocfadh a t-eideath sin
Do Sheimidh Eoghainin Duibh
We've been singing this song a cappella for a number of years now. We've
adapted this to be more of a drinking song than how we originally heard
it from Mairead niDomhnaill.
Kind friends and companions, come join me in rhyme
And lift up your voices in chorus with mine
Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain
For we may and might never, all meet here again.
Chorus: Here's a health to the company and one to my lass
Let us drink and be merry all out of one glass
Let us drink and be merry all grief to refrain
For we may and might never all meet here again.
Here's a health to the dear lass that I love so well
Her style and her beauty sure none can excel
She smiles on my countenance and she sits on my knee
Sure there's no one in Erin as happy as we.
chorus
Our ship lies at harbor she's ready to dock
I hope she's safe landed without any shock
If ever I meet you by land or by sea
I will always remember your kindness to me.
chorus
My mother sang this all the time when I was growing up. She says she learned
it from her mother's best friend, a young girl from Mayo then living in
Jersey City. I've looked for years for a published version and never found
one. Mick Moloney says it was recorded back in the '20s by the McNulty
Family (which would explain the reference in the last verse).
Some boyos when they go out courtin', Sure they haven't the spunk of a
mouse
They'll stand on the corner and whistle, They're afraid to go into the
house
But I'll walk in with me swagger, as if the whole place were me own
And I'll sit me'self down with "good evenin', how are you old Mother
Malone?"
Chorus: So I kissed the old woman and hugged the old man
Gave Johnny a dollar and I shook hands with Dan
Fight for his sister I'll do all I can, I'll do all I can
And then I'll walk out with me girl Mary Ann.
Well I'd only been courtin' her a fortnight, when her heart and her hand
I had won
So the next night I went to the cottage, the old woman she called me her
son
So I asked the old man for his daughter, his son-in-law soon I would be
And he says, "On me soul, Pete McNulty, you can have both me daughter
and me!"
chorus
Our theme in this medley is Irish uprisings: firs the 1798 Rebellion in
the The Rising of the Moon (#67, More Irish Street Ballads);
secondly, the 1848 Fenian uprising in Bold Fenian Men; and then
the Pikeman's March (instrumental). The Rising is commonly sung
to the tune of the "Wearin' of the Green", but O Lochlainn gives
this superior version. We got Bold Fenian Men from an old Judy Collins
record.
Tell me tell me Sean O'Farrell, tell me why you hurry so,
Hush, a bhuchaill hush and listen, and his cheeks were all aglow
I bear orders from the captain, get you ready quick and soon
For the pikes must be together at the Rising of the Moon.
"O then tell me Sean O'Farrell, where the gathering is to be?"
"At that old spot by the river, right well-known to you and me.
One word more, for signal token, whistle up the marching tune,
With your pike upon your shoulder at the rising of the moon."
Out from many a mud-walled cabin eyes were watching through the night
Many a manly heart was throbbing for that blessed warning light;
Murmurs passed along the valley, like the banshee's mournful croon
And a thousand blades were flashing at the Rising of the Moon.
There beside the singing river that dark mass of men was seen
High above their shining weapons flew their own beloved green
"Death to every foe and traitor! Forward! Strike the marching tune!
And hurrah my boys for freedom; 'tis the Rising of the Moon.
Well they fought for dear old Erin and full bitter was their fate
Oh what glorious pride and sorrow fill the name of '98
But thank God there still are beating strong young hearts in manhood's
bloom
Who will follow in their footsteps at the Rising of the Moon.
Twas down by the glenside I spied an old woman
She was plucking young nettles, she scarce saw me comin'
I listened a while to the song she was humming
"Glorio, glorio, to our bold fenian men."
Tis sixteen long years since I saw the moon beamin'
On strong manly forms and their eyes were hot gleamin'
I see them all now, sure in all my daydreamin'
"Glorio, glorio, to our bold fenian men."
Some died on the hillside, some died with the stranger
And wise men have judged that their cause was a failure
They fought for their freedom and they never feared danger
"Glorio, glorio, to our bold fenian men."
I passed on my way, thanks to God that I met her
Be life long or short, sure I'll never forget her
There may have been brave men, but they'll never be better
"Glorio, glorio, to our bold fenian men."
Song #94 in Kennedy's Collection. The narrator is emigrating to Scotland but is sad to leave his friends and family. He asks his friends to say a prayer for him-that he'll be home for the cutting of the hay. We learned this song from our Irish teacher, Martha Wright.
Thios ag cois na farraige bhi teach 'g mo mhuinntir fein
Mo mhamai 'gus mo dheadidi 'gus mo chairde 'lig 'en tsaol
Guigi ar bhur bpaidrin 'ach oich' ag gabhail 'na leapa daoibh
I ndull go mbeinn sa bhaile 'gaibh in aimsir bhaint an fheir
A chailini is a chailini, mach trua libh mo sceal
Mise gabhail thar farraige 's gan cead a philleadh 'e choich'
Guigi ar bhur bpaidrin 'ach oich' ag gabhail 'na leapa daoibh
I ndull go mbeinn sa bhaile 'gaibh in aimsir bhaint an fheir
Rachaidh me go h-Albain 's ni phillifidh me go h-eag
Tiocfaidh me 'na bhaile agus beidh me bruite tinn
Guigi ar bhur bpaidrin 'ach oich' ag gabhail 'na leapa daoibh
I ndull go mbeinn sa bhaile 'gaibh in aimsir bhaint an fheir
I first heard this song from Joe Hickerson at the Mine Street Coffeehouse in New Brunswick, NJ in 1974. I've been singing since then and think it one of the most beautiful love songs. I've sung it at many weddings-including my own.
Come and let us wander through the long boreens of Derry
Come take the byroads and wander with me
For it's there we'll find the sorrell and the scarlet roanberry
and the clust'ring yellow hazel hanging high on the tree.
We'll spread a couch of ivy 'neath the shadow of the willow
While the blackbirds and thrushes pipe their tuneful melody
With your brave hand in my hand and your bosom for my pillow
Making life a glimpse of heaven in the mirror of your eyes.
See how the silver swan there and the corn creaks indiscreetly
While the cuckoo-like nightingale makes her music in the tree
And the sound of boy and girl there ringing o'er the meadow sweetly
For in Derry all sounds seem harmonious to me
For in Derry, all sounds seem harmonious to me.
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