Ballad Of The Yarmouth Castle

Well, it's four o'clock in the afternoon
And the anchors have been weighed
From Miami to Nassau,
She's bound across the waves

She'll be headin' south through Biscayne Bay
Into the open sea
Yarmouth Castle, she's a-dyin' and don't know it

Now the many years she's been to sea
She's seen the better times
She gives a groan of protest
As they cast away her lines

And the grumble of her engines
And the rust along her spine
Tells the Castle she's too old to be sailin'

But the sands run out within her heart
A tiny spark glows red
It smoulders through the evening
There's laughter overhead

Now the men are served, and the cards are dealt
And the drinks are passed around
Deep within the fire starts a-burnin'

Now it's midnight on the open sea
And the moon is shining bright
Some people join the party
And others say good-night

There's many who are sleeping now
It's been a busy day
And a tiny wisp of smoke is a-risin'

"Oh Lord," she groans, "I'm burning!"
"Let someone understand!"
But her silent plea is wasted
In the playin' of the band

Everybody's dancin' on her deck
And they're havin' such a time
Then a voice says
"Shut up and deal, I'm losin'"

Deep within the Yarmouth Castle
The fire begins to glow
It leaps into the hallways
And climbs and twists and grows

And the paint she wore to keep her young
Oh Lord, how well it burns
And soon that old fire is a-ragin'

Up beneath the bridge it's climbin' fast
The captain stands aloft
He calls up to the boatswain, 'n' says
"Boatswain, we are lost"

For the ragged hoses in the racks
No pressure do they hold
And the people down below
Will soon be dyin'

All amidships, oh she's blazin' now
It's spreadin' fore and aft
The people are a-scramblin'
As the fire blocks their path

The evil smoke surrounds them,
And they're fallin' in their tracks
And the captain in his lifeboat is a-leavin'

Oh then the ship, Bahama Star
Comes steamin' through the night
She sees the Castle blazin'
And 'tis a terrible sight

"Jump down, jump down!" the captain cries
"We'll save you if we can!"
Then the paint on his funnels is a-fryin'

"God help the ones who sleep below
And cannot find the way!
Thank God for those we've rescued
Upon this awful day."

Now the heroes, they are many,
But the times are growin' slim
And now from stern to bow
She's a-blazin'

Oh the Yarmouth Castle's moanin'
She's cryin' like a child.
You can hear her if you listen
Above the roar so wild

Is she cryin' for the ones who lie
Within her molten sides?
Or cryin' for herself, I'm a-wonderin'

But the livin' soon were rescued
The ones who lived to tell
From the Star they watched her
As she died there in the swells

Like a toy ship on a mill pond
She burned all through the night
Then slipped 'neath the waves
In the mornin'

Gordon Lightfoot

The Reuben James


Have you heard of the ship called the good Reuben James?
Run by hard fighting men both of honor and of fame.
She flew the Stars and Stripes of the land of the free,
but tonight she's in her grave at the bottom of the sea.

[Chorus:]
Oh, tell me, what were their names, tell me, what were their names?
Did you have a friend on the good Reuben James? (Repeat [Chorus]

One hundred men went down to their dark and watery graves.
When that good ship went down, only forty-four were saved.

'Twas the last day of October they saved forty-four from the dark, icy water of that cold Iceland shore.

It was there in the dark of that cold and watery night.
They watched for the U-boats and they waited for a fight.
Then a whine and a rock and a great explosion's roar.
They lay the Reuben James on that cold ocean floor.

Many years have passed since those brave men are gone.
Those cold, icy waters, they're still and they're calm.
Many years have passed and still I wonder why the worst of men must fight and the best of men must die!

Racing in the Street


I got a 65 Chevy with a 396, Fuelie heads and a Hurst on the floor
She's waiting tonight down in the parking lot outside the Seven-Eleven store
Me and my partner Sonny built her straight out of scratch and he rides with me from town to town
We only run for the money, we got no strings attached, we shut 'em up and then we shut 'em down

Well, tonight, tonight the strip's just right
I wanna blow 'em all out of their seats
We'll come on out around the world
We're going racing in the street
Go!

Well, we take all the action we can meet and we cover all the northeast state
When the strip shuts down we run 'em in the street from the back roads to the turnpike gates
Well, now, some guys they do it for the money, other guys do it 'cause they don't know what else they can do
Well, there just ain't nothing left at home, I'm tired of waking up in a world that somebody else owns

Well, tonight, tonight the strip's just right
I wanna blow 'em off in my first heat
Hey, summer's here and the time is right
To racing in the street
I met her on the strip three years ago in a Camaro with this dude from L.A.
Well, I blew that Camaro off my back and I stole that girl away
Now there's wrinkles around my baby's eyes and she cries herself to sleep at night
Hey, when I come home, the house is dark, she sighs, "Baby did you make it all right"

She sits on the porch of her daddy's house, but after all her pretty dreams were torn
She stares off alone into the night with the eyes of one who hates for just being born
For all the blown-off strangers and hot rod angels stumbling through this promised land
Tonight my baby and me we're gonna ride to the sea and wash these sins off our hands

Well, tonight, tonight the strips just right
I wanna blow 'em off in my first heat
Well, come on out, the time is right
We're going racing in the street

Bruce Springsteen

McLean's Welcome

Come o'er the stream, Charlie, dear Charlie, brave Charlie;
Come o'er the stream, Charlie, and dine with McLean;
And though you be weary, we'll make your heart cheery,
And welcome our Charlie, and his loyal train.
We'll bring down the track deer, we'll bring down the black steer,
The lamb from the braken, and doe from the glen,
The salt sea we'll harry, and bring to our Charlie
The cream from the bothy and curd from the pen.

Come o'er the stream, Charlie, dear Charlie, brave Charlie; Come o'er the stream, Charlie, and dine with McLean;
And you shall drink freely the dews of Glen-Sheerly, That stream in the starlight when kings do not ken, And
deep be your meed of the wine that is red,
To drink to your sire, and his friend the McLean.

Come o'er the stream, Charlie, dear Charlie, brave Charlie; Come o'er the stream, Charlie, and dine with
McLean; O'er heath-bells shall trace you the maids to embrace you, And deck your blue bonnet with flowers of
the brae; And the loveliest Mari in all Glen M'Quarry Shall lie in your bosom till break of the day.

Come o'er the stream, Charlie, dear Charlie, brave Charlie;
Come o'er the stream, Charlie, and dine with McLean;
If aught will invite you, or more will delight you,
'Tis ready, a troop of our bold Highlandmen,
All ranged on the heather, with bonnet and feather,
Strong arms and broad claymores, three hundred and ten!

James Hogg

To the Emigrants

I rested by the silent Firth
Horizon-less in autumn mist
Save where he sun in golden mirth
The far off waters kissed.

And suddenly there came a wave
That spake in surges at my foot
And ceased - a messenger that gave
His message and was mute.

Across the sea a glance I cast -
A sea all glassy smooth again-:
A great grey ship went gliding past -
I read my message then.

I blest her as she passed me by:
O may the gleam of western gold
That lies before them where they fly
A happy omen hold!

Absent Friends

My heart absorbs me more and more;
My world of friendship narrows in.
The new I hardly care to win;
The old are fewer than of yore.

But in the space from eve till morn,
Affection, cramped upon the nest,
In wider ranging finds a rest;
And I am not so friend-forlorn.

For never one have I forgot;
Their voices in my heart I hear;
I am myself their souvenir;
We shaped each other, thought with thought.

At times a merry meet we hold:
At times upon my mind is left
That aftermath of the bereft,
Regret for kindness overcold.

New flowers on April's breast they see,
New stars about the winter moon:
And new delights may change the tune
That keeps the old refrain for me.

If friendship there has changed its stream
To feed the homestead where they live,
If they forget, I must forgive:
Yet rather will I trust my dream;

My dream, that nightly soars above
The barriers of time and space,
To watch their gaze upon my face
Till recognition leaps to love.

Walter Wingate

MacCrimmon's Lament


Round Coolin's peak the mist is sailing,
The banshee croons her note of wailing,
Mild blue eyne with sorrow are streaming
For him that shall never return, MacCrimmon!

The breeze on the brae is mournfully blowing!
The brook in the hollow is plaintively flowing,
The warblers, the soul of the groves, are moaning,
For MacCrimmon that's gone, with no hope of returning!

The tearful clouds the stars are veiling,
The sails are spread, but the boat is not sailing,
The waves of the sea are moaning and mourning
For MacCrimmon that's gone to find no returning!

No more on the hill at the festal meeting
The pipe shall sound with echo repeating,
And lads and lasses change mirth to mourning
For him that is gone to know no returning!

No more, no more, no more for ever,
In war or peace, shall return MacCrimmon;
No more, no more, no more for ever
Shall love or gold bring back MacCrimmon!

Celtic Symphony

It was far across the sea, when the devil got a hold of me
He wouldn't set me free, so he kept me soul for ransom
na na na na na...

I'm a sailor man from Glasgow town,
I've sailed this world around and round
He's the meanest thing that I have found
In all me days of wandering
na na na na na...

Here we go again; we're on the road again.
We're on the road again; we're on the way to paradise.
We love the jungle deep, that's where the lion sleeps
For then those evil eyes, they have no place in paradise
Graffiti on the walls, just as the sun was going down
I see graffiti on the walls - for the Celts! For the Celts!
Graffiti on the walls says we're magic, we're magic,
Graffiti on the wall...

It says oh ah up the 'RA, say ooh ah up the 'RA.

We went thru each jungle deep
For the paradise that we did seek
twas no trip for the weak
We’re waltzing with the natives.

Around in circles every way,
He turned to me and he did say,
"I think you're leading me astray,
I want your soul, me boyo!"
na na na na na...

Here we go again; we're on the road again.
We're on the road again; we're on the way to paradise.
We love the jungle deep, that's where the lion sleeps
For then those evil eyes, they have no place in paradise.

Graffiti on the walls, just as the sun was going down
I see graffiti on the walls - for the Celts! For the Celts!
Graffiti on the walls says we're magic, we're magic,
Graffiti on the wall...

It says oh ah up the 'RA, say ooh ah up the 'RA.

Brennan on the Moor

'Tis of a brave young highwayman
This story I will tell
His name was Willie Brennan
And in Ireland he did dwell
It was on the Kilwood Mountain
He commenced his wild career
And many a wealthy nobleman
Before him shook with fear


Chorus:
It was Brennan on the moor
Brennan on the moor
Bold, brave and undaunted
Was young Brennan on the moor

One day upon the highway
As young Willie he went down
He met the mayor of Cashiell
A mile outside of town
The mayor he knew his features
And he said, Young man, said he
Your name is Willie Brennan
You must come along with me

Chorus

Now Brennan's wife had gone to town
Provisions for to buy
And when she saw her Willie
She commenced to weep and cry
Said, Hand to me that ten penny
As soon as Willie spoke
She handed him a blunderbuss
From underneath her cloak

Chorus

Now with this loaded blunderbuss
The truth I will unfold
He made the mayor to tremble
And he robbed him of his gold
One hundred pounds was offered
For his apprehension there
So he, with horse and saddle
To the mountains did repair

Chorus

Now Brennan being an outlaw
Upon the mountains high
With cavalry and infantry
To take him they did try
He laughed at them with scorn
Until at last 'twas said
By a false-hearted woman
He was cruelly betrayed

Scotland the Brave

Hark when the night is falling,
Hear! hear the pipes are calling,
Loudly and proudly calling,
Down thro' the glen.
There where the hills are sleeping,
Now feel the blood a-leaping,
High as the spirits of the old Highland men.

Chorus
Towering in gallant fame,
Scotland my mountain hame,
High may your proud standards gloriously wave,
Land of my high endeavour,
Land of the shining river,
Land of my heart for ever,
Scotland the brave.

High in the misty Highlands
Out by the purple islands,
Brave are the hearts that beat
Beneath Scottish skies.
Wild are the winds to meet you,
Staunch are the friends that greet you,
Kind as the love that shines from fair maidens' eyes.

Chorus

Far off in sunlit places
Sad are the Scottish faces,
Yearning to feel the kiss
Of sweet Scottish rain.
Where the tropics are beaming
Love sets the heart a-dreaming,
Longing and dreaming for the hameland again.

Will Swords Rise Up?

Will swords rise up
from the mists of time?
Swords, knives, helms
tossed into
watery depths –
at the end of the world
will they be reforged?

Mist rising in wisps, forming
hilt and blade
Swords of fire and earth
rusted away, ages ago
in lakes long vanished,
pools of myth.

Forged anew of
water and air,
on the last day
will weed-draped
ladies of the lake
rise to hand them forth,
girding the worthy?


J.R. Sparlin:

Everywhere the serpent slain

The thunderous passage of heroic feet
Has crushed under heel
The skulls of serpents

The hills were once alive
With their slithering
But no more
For all are dead

Slain in antiquity
That we might live unmolested
Safe and sheltered
Freed of their threat

But the knife unused
Turns dull in time
And never tried
Its virtue is discarded

As fire tempers steel
So does suffering temper man
And we, untempered
Have become brittle

Thus, I foresee a day
Far off from now, yet near in time
Where from the hills again
The serpents shall descend

And there shall be naught in the way of heroes
To stand against them
To strive against them
To succeed against them

We shall become in that day
As they in our own
Our skulls
Pounded to dust

The Monster
Will be an omen
Of the hero-less age


James Frederick William Rowe

Un Canadien errant,

Un Canadien errant,
Banni de ses foyers,
Parcourait en pleurant
Des pays étrangers.

Un jour, triste et pensif,
Assis au bord des flots,
Au courant fugitif
Il adressa ces mots:

"Si tu vois mon pays,
Mon pays malheureux,
Va, dis à mes amis
Que je me souviens d'eux.

"Ô jours si pleins d'appas
Vous êtes disparus,
Et ma patrie, hélas!
Je ne la verrai plus!

"Non, mais en expirant,
Ô mon cher Canada!
Mon regard languissant
Vers toi se portera..."


Antoine Gérin-Lajoie

A Castle Old And Grey


I never see a castle
That is gaunt and grey and grim,
But my thoughts at once go backward
To the past so misty and dim.

To the time when tower and turret,
Kept watch far over the vale;
And along the sounding draw-bridge
Rode knights in their suits of mail.

I see the sunshine glancing
On helmet, pennon, and spear;
And hear from the depth of the forest,
A bugle calling clear.

I fill the hall with visions
Of ladies rich in their bloom;
And stately knights in armour,
And waving with feather and plume.

If I climb the broken stairway,
Where the stone is smooth and fine,
I hear a rustle and whisper,
And footsteps in front of mine.

Whisper of youth and maiden,
As they met in the long ago;
His deep and strong and manly,
Hers tender and sweet and low.

But maiden and youth have vanished,
Away from the scene and the light;
Gone, too, the high-born lady,
And the plumed and armoured knight.

Only the grey old castle,
Of crumbling stone and lime,
Still stands to speak of the ages,
And the iron footsteps of Time.


Alexander Anderson

A Sough o' War


The corn was turnin', hairst was near,
But lang afore the scythes could start
A sough o' war gaed through the land
An' stirred it to its benmost heart.
Nae ours the blame, but when it came
We couldna pass the challenge by,
For credit o' our honest name
There could be but one reply.
An' buirdly men, fae strath an' glen
An' shepherds fae the bucht an' hill,
Will show them a', whate'er befa',
Auld Scotland counts for something still.

Half-mast the castle banner droops,
The Laird's lament was played yestreen,
An' mony a widowed cottar wife
Is greetin' at her shank aleen.
In Freedom's cause, for ane that fa's,
We'll gleen the glens a' send them three
To clip the reivin' eagle's claws,
An' drook his feathers i' the sea.
For gallant loons, in brochs an' toons,
Are leavin' shop an' yard an' mill,
A keen to show baith friend an' foe
Auld Scotland counts for something still.

The grim, grey fathers, bent wi' years,
Come stridin' through the muirland mist,
Wi' beardless lads scarce by wi' school
But eager as the lave to list.
We've fleshed o' yore the brave claymore
On mony a bloody field afar,
But ne'er did skirlin' pipes afore
Cry on sae urgently tae war.
Gin danger's there, we'll thole our share,
Gie's but the weapons, we've the will,
Ayont the main, to prove again
Auld Scotland counts for something still.


Charles Murray

Sing Me a Song of a Lad That is Gone


Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,
Say, could that lad be I?
Merry of soul he sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye.

Mull was astern, Rum on the port,
Eigg on the starboard bow;
Glory of youth glowed in his soul;
Where is that glory now?

Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,
Say, could that lad be I?
Merry of soul he sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye.

Give me again all that was there
Give me the sun that shone!
Give me the eyes, give me the soul,
Give me the lad that's gone!

Sing me a song of a lad that is gone,
Say, could that lad be I?
Merry of soul he sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye.

Billow and breeze, islands and seas,
Mountains of rain and sun,
All that was good, all that was fair,
All that was me is gone.

R Stevenson

Farewell to Nova Scotia

The sun was setting in the west,
The birds were singing on every tree.
All nature seemed inclined to rest
But still there was no rest for me.

Chorus: Farewell to Nova Scotia, the sea-bound coast,
Let your mountains dark and dreary be.
For when I am far away on the briny ocean tossed,
Will you ever heave a sigh or a wish for me?


I grieve to leave my native land,
I grieve to leave my comrades all,
And my parents whom I love so dear,
And the bonnie, bonnie lass/lad that I do adore.

The drums they do beat and the wars to alarm,
The captain calls, and I must obey.
So farewell, farewell to Nova Scotia's charms,
For it's early in the morning and I'm far, far away.

I have three brothers and they are at rest,
Their hands are folded on their breast.
But a poor simple sailor just like me,
Must be tossed and driven on the dark blue sea.

The Dog and St. Peter

I explained it to St. Peter,
I'd rather stay here
Outside the pearly gate.
I won't be a nuisance,
I won't even bark, I'll be very patient and wait,
I'll be here, chewing on a celestial bone,
No matter how long you may be.
I'd miss you so much, if I went in alone.
It wouldn't be heaven for me.

Unknown

No Charge For Love


A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell.
He painted a sign advertising the 4 pups.
And set about nailing it to a post on the
Edge of his yard. As he was driving the
Last nail into the post, he felt a tug on
His overalls. He looked down into the
Eyes of a little boy.

"Mister," he said, "I want to buy one of your puppies."
"Well," said the farmer, as he rubbed the
Sweat of the back of his neck,
"These puppies come from fine parents and
Cost a good deal of money."

The boy dropped his head for a moment.
Then reaching deep into his pocket,
He pulled out a handful of change and held
It up to the farmer. "I've got thirty-nine
Cents. Is that enough to take a look?"

"Sure," said the farmer, and with that he
Let out a whistle. Here, Dolly!" he called.
Out from the doghouse and down the ramp ran
Dolly followed by four little balls of fur.
The little boy pressed his face against the
chain link fence. His eyes danced with
delight.

As the dogs made their way to the
fence,the little boy noticed something else
stirring inside the doghouse. Slowly another
little ball appeared, this one noticeably
Smaller. Down the ramp it slid. Then in a
Somewhat awkward manner, the little pup
Began hobbling toward the others, doing its
Best to catch up.... "I want that one,"
The little boy said, pointing to the runt.

The farmer knelt down at the boy's side and
said, "Son, you don't want that puppy.
He will never be able to run and play with
you like these other dogs would.

"With that the little boy stepped back from the fence,
reached down, and began rolling up one leg
of his trousers. In doing so he revealed a
Steel brace running down both sides
Of his leg attaching itself to a specially
made shoe. Looking back up at the farmer,
He said, "You see sir, I don't run too well
myself, and he will need someone who understands.

"With tears in his eyes, the farmer reached down and picked
up the little pup. Holding it carefully
he handed it to the little boy.
"How much?" asked the little boy.
"No charge," answered the farmer,
"There's no charge for love."


--- Author Unknown ---

Delivery Delayed

How early is "Beginning"? From when is there a soul?
Do we discover living, or, somehow, are we told?
In sudden pain, in empty cold, in blinding light of day
We're given breath, and it takes our breath away.

How cruel to be unformed fancy, the way in which we come -
Over-whelmed by feeling and sudden loss of love
And what price dark confining pain, (the hardest to forgive)
When all at once, we're called upon to live.

By a giant hand we're taken from the shelter of the womb
That dreaded first horizon, the endless empty room
Where communion is lost forever, when a heart first beats alone
Still, it remembers, no matter how its grown.

We grow, but grow apart -
We live, but more alone -
The more to see, the more to see,
To cry aloud that we are free
To hide our ancient fear of being alone.

And how we live in darkness, embracing spiteful cold
Refusing any answers, for no man can be told
That delivery is delayed until at last we're made aware
And first reach for love, to find 'twas always there.

by Stan Rogers

Note:

It is our birthday.... Happy birthday to us. Miss Niamh made us a green cake and Mr. Emmet brought us a case of mini cokes. What more could one want. A good home with fine peoples to take care of... God's in his heaven and alls right with the world... At least the part of it we are responsible for is safe and accounted for.. Thanks to mrs T's brother-in-law Brendan Keogh for the three casks of Guinness.. Went well with the cake I must say!

War Song - Remember the Glories of Brien the Brave


Remember the glories of Brien the brave,
Though the days of the hero are o'er,
Though lost to Mononia and cold to the grave,
He returns to Kinkora no more.
That star of the field, which so often hath pour'd
Its beam on the battle, is set;
But enough of its glory remains on each sword,
To light us to victory yet.

Mononia! when Nature embellish'd the tint
Of thy fields, and thy mountains so fair,
Did she ever intend that a tyrant should print
The footstep of slavery there?
No! Freedom, whose smile we shall never resign,
Go, tell our invaders, the Danes,
That 'tis sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine,
Than to sleep but a moment in chains.

Forget not our wounded companions who stoood
In the day of distress by our side;
While the moss of the valley grew red with their blood,
They stirr'd not, but conquer'd and died.
That sun which now blesses our arms with his light,
Saw them fall upon Ossory's plain; --
Oh! let him not blush, when he leaves us to-night,
To find that they fell there in vain.


Thomas Moore

Horse Soldier, Horse Soldier…


I'm a hussar, I'm a Hun, I'm a wretched Englishman
Routing Bonaparte at Waterloo
I'm a dragoon on a dun, I'm a Cossack on the run
I'm a horse soldier, timeless, through and through
I'm a horse soldier, eternal, through and through

I's with Custer and the 7th in ‘76 or ‘77
Scalped at Little Big Horn by the Sioux
And the pain and desperation of a once proud warrior nation
This I know ‘cause I was riding with them too

I drank mare's blood on the run when I rode with the Great Khan
On the frozen Mongol steppe when at his height
I's a White Guard, I's a White Guard, I's the Tsar's own palace horse guard
When Nicholas was martyred in the night

I knew Salah al-Din and rode his swift Arabians
Harassing doomed crusaders on their heavy drafts
And yet I rode the Percheron against the circling Musselman
And once again against myself was cast

Well I've worn the Mounties crimson, if you're silent and you listen
You'll know that it was with them that I stood
When Mayerthorpe, she cried, as her four horsemen died
Gunned down in scarlet, coldest blood

I's the firstest with the mostest when I fought for Bedford Forrest
Suffered General Wilson's Union raid
Mine was not to reason why, mine was but to do and die
At Crimea with the charging light brigade

On hire from Swiss or Sweden, be me Christian, be me heathen
The devil to the sabre I shall put
With a crack flanking maneuver, I'm an uhlan alles uber
Striking terror into regiment of foot

I knew my days were numbered when o'er the trenches lumbered
More modern machinations de la guerre
No match for rapid fire or the steel birds of the sky
With a final rear guard action I retreat
No match for tangled wire or the armoured engines whine
Reluctant I retire and take my leave

Today I ride with special forces on those wily Afghan horses
Dostum's Northern Alliance give their thanks
No matter defeat or victory, in battle it occurs to me
That we may see a swelling in our ranks

I's with the Aussies at Beersheba took the wells so badly needed
And with the Polish lancers charging German tanks
Saw Ross' mount shot down at Washingtown the night we burned the White House down
And cursed the sack of York and sons of Yanks


Corb Lund

Harris and the Mare

Harris, my old friend, good to see your face again
More welcome, though, yon trap and that old mare
For the wife is in a swoon, and I am all alone
Harris, fetch thy mare and take us home.

The wife and I came out for a quiet glass of stout
And a word or two with neighbors in the room
But young Clary, he came in, as drunk and wild as sin
And swore the wife would leave the place with him
But the wife as quick as thought said, "No, I'll bloody not"
Then struck the brute a blow about the head
He raised his ugly paw, and he lashed her on the jaw
And she fell onto the floor like she were dead.

Now Harris, well you know, I've never struck an angry blow
Nor would I keep a friend who raised his hand
I was a conscie in the war, cryin' what the hell's this for?
But I had to see his blood to be a man
I grabbed him by his coat, spun him 'round and took his throat
And beat his head upon the parlor door
He dragged out an awful knife, and he roared "I'll have your life"
And he stuck me and I fell onto the floor

Now blood I was from neck to thigh, bloody murder in his eye
As he shouted out "I'll finish you for sure"
But as the knife came down, I lashed out from the ground
And the knife was in his breast and he rolled o'er

Now with the wife as cold as clay I carried her away
No hand was raised to help us through the door
And I've brought her half a mile, but I've had to rest a while
And none of them I'll call a friend no more
For when the knife came down, I was helpless on the ground
No neighbor stayed his hand, I was alone
By God, I was a man, but now I cannot stand
Please, Harris, fetch thy mare, take us home

Oh, Harris, fetch thy mare, and take us out of here
In my nine and fifty years I've never known
That to call myself a man, for my loved one I must stand
Now Harris, fetch thy mare take us home.

Stan Rodgers

Quote:

If my dog is barred by the heavenly guard
We'll both of us brave the heat!

W. Dayton Wedgefarth

The Patriot Game


Come all ye young rebels, and list while I sing,
For the love of one's country is a terrible thing.
It banishes fear with the speed of a flame,
And it makes us all part of the patriot game.

My name is O'Hanlon, and I've just turned sixteen.
My home is in Monaghan, and where I was weaned
I learned all my life cruel England's to blame,
So now I am part of the patriot game.

This Ireland of ours has too long been half free.
Six counties lie under John Bull's tyranny.
But still De Valera is greatly to blame
For shirking his part in the Patriot game.

They told me how Connolly was shot in his chair,
His wounds from the fighting all bloody and bare.
His fine body twisted, all battered and lame
They soon made me part of the patriot game.

It's nearly two years since I wandered away
With the local battalion of the bold IRA,
For I read of our heroes, and wanted the same
To play out my part in the patriot game.

And now as I lie here, my body all holes
I think of those traitors who bargained in souls
And I wish that my rifle had given the same
To those Quislings who sold out the patriot game.



Dominic Behan

Legion of the Rear Guard

Up the Republic, they raise their battle cry
Pearse and McDermott will pray for you on high
Eager and ready, for love of you they die
Proud march the Soldiers of the Rearguard

Glorious the morning through flame and shot and shell
Now, rally Ireland, your sons who love you well
Pledged they'll defend you, though death or prison cell
Wait for the Soldiers of the Rearguard

Legion of the rearguard, answering Ireland's call
Hark their martial tramp is heard from Cork to Donegal
Tone and Emmet guide you, though your task be hard
Honour leads you, Soldiers of the Legion of the Rearguard

Crimson the roadside, the prison walls, the cave
Proof of their valour, go sleep in peace ye brave
Comrades tread lightly, you're near a hero's grave
Proud die the Soldiers of the Rearguard

Shell shattered fortress and shot scarred brigade
Trumpet the story of the glorious fight they made
Wearied, outnumbered, undaunted, unafraid
God bless the Soldiers of the Rearguard

From "Lord of the Isles"

Of Hereford's high blood he came,
A race renown'd for knightly fame.
He burned before his Monarch's eye
To do some deed of chivalry.
He spurr'd his steed, he couched his lance,
He darted on The Bruce at once.
As motionless as rocks, that bide
The wrath of the advancing tide,
The Bruce stood fast. - Each breast beat high,
And dazzled was each gazing eye -
The heart had hardly time to think,
The eyelid scarce had time to wink,
While on the King, like flash of flame,
Spurr'd to full speed the war-horse came!
The partridge may the falcon mock,
If that slight palfrey stand the shock -
But, swerving from the knight's career,
Just as they met, Bruce shunn'd the spear,
Onward the baffled warrior bore
His course - but soon his course was o'er! -
High in his stirrups stood the King,
And gave his battle-axe the swing.
Right on De Boune, the whiles he pass'd,
Fell that stern dint - the first - the last! -
Such strength upon the blow was put,
The helmet crash'd like hazel-nut;
The axe-shaft, with its brazen clasp,
Was shiver'd to the gauntlet grasp.
Springs from the blow the startled horse,
Drops to the plain the lifeless corse;
- First of that fatal field, how soon,
How sudden, fell the fierce De Boune!

Sir Walter Scott

To a Child dancing in the Wind

I

DANCE there upon the shore;
What need have you to care
For wind or water’s roar?
And tumble out your hair
That the salt drops have wet;
Being young you have not known
The fool’s triumph, nor yet
Love lost as soon as won,
Nor the best labourer dead
And all the sheaves to bind.
What need have you to dread
The monstrous crying of wind?

II

Has no one said those daring
Kind eyes should be more learn’d?
Or warned you how despairing
The moths are when they are burned,
I could have warned you, but you are young,
So we speak a different tongue.

O you will take whatever’s offered
And dream that all the world’s a friend,
Suffer as your mother suffered,
Be as broken in the end.
But I am old and you are young,
And I speak a barbarous tongue.


W.B. Yates

An Irish Airman Foresees His Death

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.

W.B. Yates

A Sump for a Tail

You can't buy loyalty, they say
I bought it though, the other day;
You can't buy friendship, tried and true,
Well just the same, I bought that too.

I made my bid, and on the spot
Bought love and faith and a whole job lot
Of happiness, so all in all
The purchase price was pretty small.

I bought a single trusting heart,
That gave devotion from the start.

If you think these things are not
for sale, Buy a brown-eyed puppy with
a stump for a tail.


--- author unknown ---

Dog

An earthly dog of the carriage breed;
Who, having failed of the modern speed,
Now asked asylum and I was stirred
To be the one so dog preferred.

Robert Frost

Dog...

I lie belly-up
In the sunshine, happier than
You ever will be.

I sound the alarm!
Paperboy—comes to kill us all —
Look! Look! Look! Look! Look!

I sound the alarm!
Garbage man—comes to kill us all —
Look! Look! Look! Look! Look!

I Hate my choke chain—
Look, world, they strangle me! Ack
Ack Ack Ack Ack Ack!

Sleeping here, my chin
On your foot—no greater bliss—well,
Maybe catching squirrels.

Look in my eyes and
Deny it. No human could
Love you as much I do.

Anonymous

Scotland Yet

Gae bring my guid auld harp aince mair;
Gae bring it free and fast,
For I maun sing anither sang
Ere a' my glee be past:
And trow ye as I sing my lads,
The burthen o't shall be -
Auld Scotland's howes and Scotland's knowes,
And Scotland's hills for me!
I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi a' the honours three!

The heath waves wild upon her hills,
Her foaming frae the fells,
Her fountains sing o' freedom still,
As they dance down the dells.
And weel I loe the land, my lads,
That's girded by the sea.
Then Scotland's vales, and Scotland's dales,
And Scotland's hills for me;
I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi a' the honours three!

The thistle wags upon the fields
Where Wallace bore his blade,
That her foeman's dearest build
To dye her auld grey plaid:
And looking to the lift my lads,
He sang in doughty glee -
"Auld Scotland's right, and Scotland's might,
And Scotland's hills for me;"
I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi' a' the honours three!

They tell o' lands wi' brighter skies,
Where freedom's voices ne're rang;
Gie me the hills where Ossian lies,
And Coila's minstrel sang,
That ken na to be free.
Then Scotland's right, and Scotland's might,
And Scotland's hills for me;"
I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi' a' the honours three!

The Campbells are Comin'

chorus
The Campbells are comin, Oho! Oho!
The Campbells are comin, Oho! Oho!
The Campbells are comin to bonie Lochleven,
The Campbells are comin Oho! Oho!

Upon the Lomonds I lay, I lay,
Upon the Lomonds I lay, I lay,
I looked down to bonie Lochleven,
And saw three bonie perches play

chorus

Great Argyle he goes before,
He maks his cannons and guns to roar,
Wi' sound o trumpet, pipe and drum
The Campbells are comin Oho, Oho!

chorus

The Campbells they are a' in arms
Their loyal faith and truth to show,
Wi banners rattling in the wind
The Campbells are comin Oho, Oho!


Aye - but whose side are they on... with them one can never be sure... Dugal

Blue Bonnets Over the Border

March, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale,
Why the deil dinna ye march forward in order?
March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale,
All the Blue Bonnets are bound for the Border.
Many a banner spread
Flutters above your.head,
Many a crest that is famous in story.
Mount and make ready then,
Sons of the mountain glen,
Fight for the Queen and the old Scottish glory.

Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing,
Come from the glen of the buck and the roe;
Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing,
Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow.
Trumpets are sounding,
War-steeds are bounding,
Stand to your arms then, and march in good order;
England shall many a day
Tell of the bloody fray,
When the Blue Bonnets came over the Border.

Sir Walter Scott

Amazing Grace

Amazing grace how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now I'm found;
Was blind, but now I see.

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear
And grace my fear relieved.
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares,
We have already come.
'Twas grace that brought us safe thus far,
And grace will lead us home.

When we've been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we first begun.

The Lord has promised good to me,
His Word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life endures.

And when this heart and flesh shall fail
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil
A life of health and peace.

For the educated of you - here is a translation into Gaelic.

O Miorbhail gràis! nach breagh'an ceòl;
'S e lorg mi 's mi air chall,
Air seachdran dorch', gun neart, gun treòir,
'S a dh'fhosgail sùilean dall.

'S e gràs thug eòlas dhomh air in'fheum;
'S e gràs thug saors'is sìth;
'S cha cheannaicheadh òr a' chruinne-chè
Chiad-là bha fios nam chrìdh'.

Tro iomadh cunnart's trioblaid chruaidh
Thug E gu sàbhailt mi.
An gràs a shaor bhon bhàs le buaidh
Chan fhàg's cha trèig gu sìor.

San dachaigh bhuan gun uair gun tìm,
'S deich mìle bliadhn' mar là,
Cha sguir an ceòl's chan fhàs iad sgìth
A'seiinn a chaoidh mun ghràs.

From "Lord of the Isles"

Of Hereford's high blood he came,
A race renown'd for knightly fame.
He burned before his Monarch's eye
To do some deed of chivalry.
He spurr'd his steed, he couched his lance,
He darted on The Bruce at once.
As motionless as rocks, that bide
The wrath of the advancing tide,
The Bruce stood fast. - Each breast beat high,
And dazzled was each gazing eye -
The heart had hardly time to think,
The eyelid scarce had time to wink,
While on the King, like flash of flame,
Spurr'd to full speed the war-horse came!
The partridge may the falcon mock,
If that slight palfrey stand the shock -
But, swerving from the knight's career,
Just as they met, Bruce shunn'd the spear,
Onward the baffled warrior bore
His course - but soon his course was o'er! -
High in his stirrups stood the King,
And gave his battle-axe the swing.
Right on De Boune, the whiles he pass'd,
Fell that stern dint - the first - the last! -
Such strength upon the blow was put,
The helmet crash'd like hazel-nut;
The axe-shaft, with its brazen clasp,
Was shiver'd to the gauntlet grasp.
Springs from the blow the startled horse,
Drops to the plain the lifeless corse;
- First of that fatal field, how soon,
How sudden, fell the fierce De Boune!

Sir Walter Scott

In Memoriam, Private D. Sutherland, killed in action in the German trench 16 May 1916, and the others who died.

So you were David's father,
And he was your only son,
And the new-cut peats are rotting
And the work is left undone,
Because of an old man weeping,
Just an old man in pain,
For David, his son David,
That will not come again.

Oh, the letters he wrote you
And I can see them still,
Not a word of the fighting
But just the sheep on the hill
And how you should get the crops in
Ere the year got stormier,
And the Bosches have got his body,
And I was his officer.

You were only David's father,
But I had fifty sons
When we went up in the evening
Under the arch of the guns,
And we came back at twilight-
O God! I heard them call
To me for help and pity
That could not help at all.

Oh, never will I forget you,
My men that trusted me,
More my sons than your fathers',
For they could only see
The little helpless babies
And the young men in their pride.
They could not see you dying,
And hold you when you died.

Happy and young and gallant,
They saw their first-born go,
But not the strong limbs broken
And the beautiful men brought low,
The piteous writhing bodies,
They screamed 'Don't leave me, sir"
For they were only your fathers
But I was your officer.

Quote:

The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself.

John Stuart Mill

Quote:

A great many people mistake opinions for thoughts.

Herbert V. Prochnow

The Croppy Boy


It was early, early in the spring
The birds did whistle and sweetly sing
Changing their notes from tree to tree
And the song they sang was "Ould Ireland Free"

It was early early in the night
The yeoman cavalry gave me a fright
The yeoman cavalry was my downfall
And taken was I by Lord Cornwall

'Twas in the guard-house where I was laid
And in a parlour where I was tried
My sentence passed and my courage low
When to Dungannon I was forced to go

As I was passing my father's door
My brother William stood at the door
My aged father stood at the door
And my tender mother her hair she tore

As I was going up Wexford Street
My own first cousin I chanced to meet
My own first cousin did me betray
And for one bare guinea swore my life away

As I was walking up Wexford Hill
Who could blame me to cry my fill?
I looked behind, and I looked before
But my aged mother I shall see no more

And as I mounted the platform high
My aged father was standing by
My aged father did me deny
And the name he gave me was the Croppy Boy

It was in Dungannon this young man died
And in Dungannon his body lies
And you good people that do pass by
Oh shed a tear for the Croppy Boy

The Gallant Forty Twa


You may talk about your lancers, or your Irish Fusiliers,
The Aberdeen Militia or the Queen's Own Volunteers;
Or any other regiment that's lying far awa'
Come gie to me the tartan of the gallant Forty Twa.

Chorus
And strolling through the green fields on a summer day,
Watching all the country girls working at the hay,
I really was delighted and he stole my heart awa'
When I saw him in the tartan of the gallant Forty Twa.

Oh I never will forget the day his regiment marched past.
The pipes they played a lively tune but my heart was aghast,
He turned around and smiled farewell and then from far awa'
He waved at me the tartan of the gallant Forty Twa.

Chorus

Once again I heard the music of the pipers from afar.
They tramped and tramped, the weary men returning from the war.
And as they nearer drew I brushed a woeful tear awa'
For me and my braw laddie of the gallant Forty Twa.

MacGregor's Gathering


The moon's on the lake, and the mist's on the brae,
And the Clan has a name that is nameless by day;
Then gather, gather, gather Grigalach!
Gather, gather, gather Grigalach!

Our signal for fight, that from monarchs we drew,
Must be heard but by night in our vengeful haloo!
Then haloo, Grigalach! haloo, Grigalach!
Haloo, haloo, haloo, Grigalach!

Glen Orchy's proud mountains, Coalchuirn and her towers,
Glenstrae and Glenlyon no longer are ours;
We're landless, landless, landless, Grigalach!
Landless, landless, landless, Grigalach!

But doom'd and devoted by vassal and lord,
MacGregor has still both his heart and his sword!
Then courage, courage, courage, Grigalach!
Courage, courage, courage, Grigalach!

If they rob us of name, and pursue us with beagles,
Give their roofs to the flame, and their flesh to the eagles!
Then vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, Grigalach!
Vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, Grigalach!

While there's leaves in the forest, and foam on the river,
MacGregor despite them, shall flourish for ever!
Come then Grigalach, come then Grigalach,
Come then, come then, come then Grigalach!

Through the depths of Loch Katrine the steed shall career,
O'er the peak of Ben Lomond the galley shall steer,
The rocks of Craig-Royston like icicles melt,
Ere our wrongs be forgot, or our vengeance unfelt!
Then gather, gather, gather Grigalach!
Gather, gather, gather Grigalach!

Haughs o' Cromdale

As I came in by Auchindoun,
A little wee bit frae the toun,
When to the Highlands I was bound,
To view the haughs of Cromdale,
I met a man in tartan trews,
I speir'd at him what was the news;
Quo' he the Highland army rues,
That e'er we came to Cromdale.

We were in bed, sir, every man,
When the Engligh host upon us came,
A bloody battle then began,
Upon the haughs of Cromdale.
The English horse they were so rude,
They bath'd their hooves in Highland blood,
But our brave clans, they boldly stood
Upon the haughs of Cromdale.

But, alas! We could no longer stay,
For o'er the hills we came away,
And sore we do lament the day,
That e'er we came to Cromdale.
Thus the great Montrose did say,
Can you direct the nearest way?
For I will o'er the hills this day,
And view the haughs of Cromdale.

Alas, my lord, you're not so strong,
You scarcely have two thousand men,
And there's twenty thousand on the plain,
Stand rank and file on Cromdale.
Thus the great Montrose did say,
I say, direct the nearest way,
For I will o'er the hills this day,
And see the haughs of Cromdale.

They were at dinner, every man,
When great Montrose upon them came,
A second battle then began,
Upon the haughs of Cromdale.
The Grant, Mackenzie and MacKay,
Soon as Montrose they did espy,
O then, they fought most valiantly!
Upon the haughs of Cromdale.

The Macdonalds they returned again,
The Camerons did their standard join,
MacIntosh play'd a bloody game,
Upon the haughs of Cromdale.
The MacGregors fought like lions bold,
MacPhersons, none could them control,
MacLaughlins fought, like loyal souls,
Upon the haughs of Cromdale.

MacLeans, MacDougals, and MacNeils,
So boldly as they took the field,
And make their enemies to yield,
Upon the haughs of Cromdale.
The Gordons boldly did advance,
The Frasers fought with sword and lance,
The Grahams they made the heads to dance,
Upon the haughs of Cromdale.

The loyal Stewarts with Montrose,
So boldly set upon their foes,
And brought them down with Highland blows,
Upon the haughs of Cromdale.
Of twenty thousand Cromwell's men,
Five hundred fled to Aberdeen
The rest of them lie on the plain,
Upon the haughs of Cromdale.