"HA-ROO" (1999)
While going the road to sweet Athy, ha-roo, ha-roo
While going the road to sweet Athy, ha-roo, ha-roo
While going the road to sweet Athy
A stick in my hand and a tear in my eye
A doleful damsel I heard cry:
"Johnny I hardly knew Yeh".
With drums and guns and guns and drums, ha-roo, ha-roo,
With drums and guns and guns and drums, ha-roo, ha-roo,
With drums and guns and guns and drums, the enemy nearly slew yeh,
My darling dear you look so queer, Johnny I hardly knew yeh.
Where are the eyes that looked so mild ha-roo, ha-roo
Where are the eyes that looked so mild ha-roo, ha-roo
Where are the eyes that looked so mild,
When my poor heart you first beguiled
Why did you skedaddle from me and the child,
Johnny I hardly knew yeh.
Where are the legs with which you run ha-roo, ha-roo
Where are the legs with which you run ha-roo, ha-roo
Where are the legs with which you run,
When you went to shoulder a gun
Indeed your dancing days are done
Johnny I hardly knew yeh.
It grieved my heart to see you sail ha-roo, ha-roo.
It grieved my heart to see you sail ha-roo, ha-roo
It grieved my heart to see you sail,
Though from my heart you took leg-bail;
Like a cod you're doubled up head and tail
Johnny I hardly knew yeh.
You haven't an arm and you haven’t a leg ha-roo, ha-roo
You haven't an arm and you haven't a leg ha-roo, ha-roo .
You haven't an arm and you haven't a leg,
You're an eyeless, noseless, chickenless egg
You'll have to be put in a bowl to beg
Johnny I hardly knew yeh.
l' m happy for to see you home ha-roo, ha-roo
I'm happy for to see you home ha-roo, ha-roo
I'm happy for to see you home
All from the island of Sulloon
So low in the flesh so high in the bone
Johnny I hardly knew yeh.
But sad as it is to see you so ha-roo, ha-roo
But sad as it is to see you so ha-roo, ha-roo
But sad as it is to see you so,
And to think of you now as an object of woe
Your Peggy'll still keep you on as her beau;
Johnny I hardly knew yeh.
I had a true love if ever a girl had one
I had a true love a brave lad was he
One fine Easter Monday with his gallant comrades
He started away for to make Ireland free
Chorus:
All around my hat I wear a tri coloured ribbon
All around my hat until death comes to me
And if anybody's asking me why do I wear it
It's all for my own true love, I never more will see
He whispered goodbye love, old Ireland is calling
High over Dublin our tri colour flies
ln the street of the city the foeman is falling
And wee birds are whistling old Ireland arise
The praying and watching the dark hours passed over
the roar of the guns brought no message to me
l prayed for old lreland I prayed for my Iover
That he might be safe and old Ireland be free .
The struggle was ended they brought me the story
The last whispered message he sent on to me
I was true to my land love I fought for her glory
And gave up my life for to make Ireland free
Let the grasses grow and water flow, in a free and easy way
But give me enough of the rare old stuff
That’s made near Galway Bay
Come gangers all from Donegal, Sligo and Leitrim, too
Oh we’ll give them the slip and we’ll take a sip
Of the Rare Old Mountain Dew
There’s a neat little still at the foot of the hill
Where the smoke curls up to the sky;
By a whiff of the smell you can plainly tell
That there's poitìn, boys, close by.
For it fills the air with a perfume rare,
And betwixt both me and you,
As home we roll, we can drink a bowl,
Or a bucketful of mountain dew.
Now learned men as use the pen,
Have writ the praises high
Of the rare poitìn from Ireland green,
Distilled from wheat and rye.
Away with yer pills, it'll cure all ills,
Be ye Pagan, Christian or Jew;
So take off your coat and grease your throat
With a bucketful of mountain dew.
In Dublin fair city, where the girls are so pretty,
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone.
She wheeled a wheel-barrow through the streets broad and narrow,
Crying, ‘Cockles and Mussels, a-live, a-live oh’.
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, a-live, a-live oh.'
She died of a fever, no one could relieve 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, a-live, a-live oh.'
I danced in the morning when the world was young
I danced in the moon and the stars and the sun
I came down from heaven and I danced on the earth
At Bethlehem I had my birth
Dance Dance wherever You may be
I am the Lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he
I danced for the scribes and the pharisees
They wouldn't dance they wouldn’t follow me
I danced for the fishermen James and John
They came with me so the dance went on
I danced on the Sabbath and I cured the lame
The holy people said it was a shame
They whipped, they stripped, they hung me high
They left me there on a cross to die.
I danced on a Friday when the world turned black
lt’s hard to dance with a devil on your back
They buried my body they thought I was gone
But I am the dance and the dance goes on.
They cut me down and I lept up high
I am the Life that will never never die
I’ll live in you if you’ll live in me
I am the Lord of the dance said he.
Well, if you’ve got a wing-o, take her up to Ring-o
Where the waxies sing-o all the day
If you had you fill of porter and you can’t go any further
Just your man the order "Back to the quay"
And take her up to Monto, Monto, Monto…
You've heard of Butcher Foster, the dirty old imposter,
He took a mot and lost her up the Furry Glen.
He first put on his bowler, then he buttoned up his trousers,
And he whistled for a growler and he said 'My men,
Take me up to Monto, Monto, Monto...
The fairy told him, 'Skin the goat'; 0'Donnell put him on the boat
He wished he'd never been afloat, the dirty skite.
It wasn't very sensible to tell on the Invincibles
They took aboard the principals, day and night
Be goin' up to Monto, Monto, Monto...
You' ve seen the Dublin Fusiliers, the dirty old bamboozaliers,
They went and got the childer, one, two, three.
Marchin' from the Linen Hall, there's one for every cannon ball
And Vicky's goin' to send youse all o'er the sea.
But first go up to Monto, Monto, Monto...
When the Czar of Rooshia, and the King of Prooshia
Landed in the Phoenix in a big balloon,
They asked the Garda band to play The Wearin' of the Green
But the buggers in the depot didn' t know the tune,
So they both went up to Monto, Monto, Monto...
The Queen she came to call on us, she wanted to see all of us,
I'm glad she didn't fall on us, she's eighteen stone.
"Mr. Milord Mayor,' sez she, it’s all you've got to show to me?
"Why no, ma'am, there's some more to see - pòg mo thòin"
And he took her up to Monto, Monto, Monto,
Took her up to Monto, langer oo.
Lìathròidi to you.
I am the merry ploughboy, and I plough the fields all day
Whe a sudden thought came to me head, that I should roam away
For I’m sick and tired of slavery, since the day that I was born
And I’m off to join the I.R.A., I’m off tomorrow morn
And we’re all off to Dublin in the green
Where the helmets glisten in the sun
Where the bay’nets flash
And the rifles crash
To the echos of the Thompson guns
I’ll leave aside me pick and spade, I’ll leave aside me plough
And I’ll leave aside me old grey mare for I no more need them now
And I leave aside me Mary, she’s the girl I do adore
And I wonder if she’ll think of me when she hears the cannons roar
And when the war is over and dear old Ireland is free
I’ll take her to the church to wed and a rebel’s wife she’ll be
Well some men fight for silver and some men fight for gold
But the I.R.A. are fighting for the land that the Saxons stole
(Parole di Patrick Kavanagh)
On Raglan road of an Autumn day, I saw her first and knew
That her black hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue
I saw the danger yet I walked along the enchanted way
And I said let grief be a fallen leaf
At the dawning of the day
On Grafton street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of a deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion pledge,
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts, and I not making hay,
Oh, I loved too much and by such by such
Is happiness blown away.
I gave her gifts of the mind, I gave her the secret sign
That’s known to the artist who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And the words and tint I did not stint, I gave her poems to say,
With her own name there and her own dark hair,
Like clouds over fields of May.
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet, I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly, my reason must allow,
That I had loved not as I should, a creature made of clay,
When the angel woos the clay he'll lose
His wings at the dawn of day
In the sweet County Limerick one cold winter’s night
All the turf fires were burning when I saw the light
And a drunken old midwife went tipsy with joy
As she danced round the floor with her slip of a boy.
Singing banyana mò is an ganna
And the juice of the barley for me.
Well when I was a gossom of eight yers old or so
with me turf and me primer to school I did go
To a dusty old school house without any door
Where lay the schoolmaster blind drunk on the floor.
At the learning I wasn’t such a genius I’m thinking
But I soon bet the master entirely at drinking
Not a wake or a wedding for five miles around
But meself in the corner was sure to be found.
One Sunday the priest thread me out of the altar
Saying "You’ll end up your days with your neck in a halter
And you’ll dance a fine jig between Heaven and Hell"
And his words they did frighten me, the truth for to tell.
So the very next morning as the dawn it did break
I went down to the vestry, the pledge for to take,
And there in that room sat the priest in a bunch
Round a big roaring fire drinking tumblers of punch.
Well from that day to this I have wondered alone
I’m Jack of all trades and Master of none
With the sky for me roof and the earth for me floor
And I’ll dance up my days drinking whiskey galore.
Adown by the glenside I met an old woman
Aplucking young nettles nor saw I was coming,
I listened a while, to the song she was humming,
Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian Men.
'Tis fifty long years since I saw the moon beamin'
On strong manly forms, on eyes with hope gleamin'
I see them again, sure, thro'all my sad dreamin'
Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian Men.
When I was a girl their marching and drillin'
Awake in the glenside sounds awesome and thrillin’
They loved poor old Ireland, to die they were willin'
Glory O, Glory O, to the Bold Fenian Men.
Some died by the glenside. some died mid the stranger,
And wise men have told us their cause was a failure,
But they stood by old Ireland, and never feared danger,
Glory O, Glory O, to the Bold Fenian Men.
I passed on my way, God be praised that I met her,
Be my life long or short I shall never forget her.
We may have had good men, but we'll never have better,
Glory O, Glory O, to the Bold Fenian Men.