I've been a wild rover for many's the year
And I've spent all me money on whiskey and beer
And now I'm returning with gold in great store
And I'll never will play the wild rover no more
Chorus: And it's no, Nay, Never
No, Nay, Never no more
Will I play the wild rover
No never, no more
I went to an alehouse I used to frequent
And I told the landlady my money was spent
I asked her for credit she answered to me "Nay,
Such custom as yours could I have everyday"
I brought up from my pockets ten souvereigns bright,
And the landlady's eyes opened wide with delight
She said "I have whiskey and wines of the best,
And the words that I told you were only in jest."
I'll go home to my parents, confess what I've done,
And I'll ask them to pardon their prodigal son.
And when they've caressed me as oft times before,
I never will play the wild rover no more.
As down the glen one Easter morn to a city fair rode I
There Ireland's lines of marching men in squadrons passed me by
No pipe did hum, no battle drum did sound its loud tatoo
But the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey's swell rang out in the Foggy Dew
Right proudly high over Dublin town they flung out the flag of war
'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky than a Sulva or Sud el Bar
And from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying through
While Britannia's huns, with their great big guns, sailed in through the Foggy Dew
O the night fell black, and the rifles crack made perfidious Albion reel
Mid the leaden rain seven tongues of flame did shine o're the lines of steel
By each shining blade a prayer was said that to Ireland her sons be true
But when the morning broke still the war flag shook out its folds in the Foggy Dew
Oh the bravest fell and the requiem bell rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide in the springtime of the year
While the world did gaze with deep amaze at those fearless men but few
Who bore their fight that Freedom's light might shine through the Foggy Dew
Back through the glen I rode again, my heart with grief was sore
For I parted with those valiant men whom I'll never see no more
But to and fro in my dreams I go and I kneel and pray for you
For slavery fled, O glorious dead, when you fell in the Foggy Dew
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 produced my rapier
Saying stand and deliver for you are a bold deceiver
Chorus: Musha ring durram do durram dah
Whack fol de daddio
Whack fol de daddio
There's whiskey in the jar
I counted out his money and it made a pretty penny
I put it in me pocket and I took it home to Jenny
She sighed and she swore that she never would deceive me
But the Devil take the women for they never can be easy
I went unto my chamber for all to take a slumber
I dreamed of golden jewels and for sure it was no wonder
But Jenny drew me charges and filled them up with water
Then sent for Captain Farrell to be ready for the slaughter
It was early in the morning just before I rose to travel
Up comes a band of footmen and likewise Captain Farrell
I first produced my pistol for she'd stolen away my rapier
But I couldn't shoot the water so a prisoner I was taken
There's some takin' delight in the carriages a rolling
Others take delight in the hurley and in the bowling
But I take delight in the juice of the barley
And courting pretty fair maids in the morning bright and early
And if anyone can aid me it is me brother in the army
If I can find a station in cork or in Killarney
And if he'll go with me we'll go roaming in Kilkenny
And I'm sure he'll treat me better than my only sporting Jenny
The morning lies heavy on my father
And I couldn't find the time to fall asleep
And I couldn't stop from thinking of it either
Oh the morning lies heavy on me.
I didn't have to be there till the morning
And there's friends of mine I've really got to see
And it's not goodbye and not too soon to follow
And the morning lies heavy on me
Chorus:
Tell me who's the one who fights untill he's broken
Is it the man who sits in judgement on you all?
I wouldn't care if it was their lives they were taking
But they don't listen or even answer to the call
And tomorrow I'll be flying from the mainland
And joining in new company
And some of us will never see our homeland
Oh the morning lies heavy on me
In Banbridge Town in the County Down, one morning the last July
Down a Boreen Green came a sweet coleen
And she smiled as she passed me by
Oh she looked so sweet from her two bare feet
To the sheen of her nut-brown hair
Such a coaxing elf, I shook myself for to see was I really there.
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay and fron Galway to Dublin Town
No maid I've seen like the sweet collen that I met in the County Down
As she onward sped sure I scratched my head and I look with a feeling rare
"And I said" says I to a passer by
"Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?"
He smiled at me and he said "says he"
"That's the gem of the Ireland's crown,
That is Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann
She's the Star of the County Down
At the harvest fair she'll be surely there and I'll dress in my Sunday clothes
With my shoes shone bright and my head-cap right
For a smile from my nut-brown rose
No pipe I smoke, no horse I yoke
Till my plough with rust cometh brown
Till a smiling bride by my own fireside
Sits the Star of the County Down.
Oh father why are you so sad on this bright Easter morn?
When Irish men are proud and glad of the land where they were born.
Oh, son, I see and mem'ries wiew of far oft distant days,
When being just a boy like you, I joined the I.R.A.
Chorus: Where are the lads who stood with me when history was made?
Oh, gra mo chree I long to see the Boys of the Old Brigade.
In hills and farms the call to arms was heard by one and all,
And from the glens came brave young men to answer Ireland's call.
'Twas long ago we faced the foe, the old brigade and me,
But by my side they fought and died that Ireland might be free.
And now my boy I've told you why on Easter morn I sigh
For I recall my comrades all from dark old days gone by,
I think of men who fought in glens with rifles and grenade
May Heaven keep the men who sleep from the ranks of the Old Brigade.
I once loved a lass and I loved so well
That I hated all others that spoke of her ill
But now she's rewarded me well for my love
She's gone to be wed to another
When I saw my love go through the curch door
With bride and bride maidens they made a fine show;
And I follow the man with my heart full of woe,
For now she'wed to another.
When I saw my love a-sit down to dine,
I sat down beside her and I poured out the wine;
And I drank to the lass that should have be mine,
But now she's wed to another.
The men of yon forest, they ask it of me,
How many strawberries grow in the salt sea?
And I asked of them back with a tear in my eye,
How many ships sail in the forest?
So dig me a grave and dig it so deep
And cover it over with flowers so sweet;
And I'll return in for to take a long sleep,
And maybe in time I'll forget her.
So they dug him a grave and they dug it so deep;
They covered it over with flowers so sweet.
And he's turned in for to take a long sleep,
And maybe by now he's forgotten.
In the village of Kildory
There's a maiden young and fair
Her eyes they shone like diamonds
She had long and golden hair
When the countryman came riding
He came to the father's gate
Mounted on a milk white stallion
He came at the stroke of eight
Chorus: Step it out, Mary, my fine daughter
Step it out, Mary, if you can
Step it out, Mary, my fine daughter
Show your legs to the countryman
Show your legs to the countryman
I have come to court your daughter
Mary of the golden hair
I have wealth I have money
I have goods beyond compare
I will buy her silks and satins
And a gold ring for her hand
I will build for her a mansion
She'll have servants to command
But kind sir I love a soldier
I have pledge to him my hand
I don't want your house nor money
I don't want your goods nor land.
Mary's father spoke up sharply
You will do as you are told
You'll be married on this Sunday
You will wear the ring of gold
In the village of Kildory
There's a deep stream running by
They found Mary there at midnight
She drowned with her Soldier boy
In the cottage there is music
You can hear the father say
Step it out my fine daughter
Sunday is your wedding day
Toora loora loora la, Toora loora loora la,
Toora loora loora la, give the child a jar of porter
If you want your child to grow, your child to grow,
your child to grow,
If you want your child to grow give him a jar of porter
When I was young and cradle cake,
No drop of milk now would I take.
Me father up and had his spake
"Give the child a drop of porter"
When I am dead and in my grave,
I hope for me a prayer you'll say,
And if you're passing by that you'll
Throw in a jar of porter
And when I reach the Golden Gates,
I hope I'll not have long to wait,
I'll call Saint Peter aside and say:
"Brought you a jar of porter"
I'm a Man you don't Meet Everyday
Oh My name is Jock Stewart I'm a canny gun man
And a roving young fellow I've been
So be easy and free when you're drinking with me
I'm a man you don't meet everyday
I have acres of land I have men at command
I have always a shilling to spare
So be easy and free when you're drinking with me
I'm a man you don't meet everyday
So come fill up your glasses of brandy and wine
Whatever it costs I will pay
So be easy and free when you're drinking with me
I'm a man you don't meet everyday
Well I took out my dog and him I did shoot
All down in the County Kildare
So be easy and free when you're drinking with me
I'm a man you don't meet everyday
Come day, Go day,
Wishin' me heart it was Sunday
Drinkin' buttermilk all the week
And Whiskey on a Sunday.
He sits at the corner of Beggars Bush
Astride of an old packing case
And the dolls on the end of the plank were dancing
As he crooned with smile on his face.
His tired old hands drum the wooden beam
And the puppets they danced up and down
A far better show than you ever will see
In the fanciest theatre in town.
But in 1902 old sad Davy died
His songs it was heard no more
The three dancing dolls in the dustbin were thrown
And the plank went to mend the back door.
But on some stormy night if you're passing that way
With the wind blowing up from the sea
You can still hear the song of old sad Davy
A he croons to his dancing dolls three.