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sorry if this dunt count as celtic cabal..
In Dublin’s Fair City
Where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheel’d her wheel barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!Chorus
Alive, alive o!, alive, alive o!
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!She was a fishmonger
But sure ’twas no wonder
For so were her father and mother before
And they each wheel’d their barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!Chorus
She died of a fever
And no one could save 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 alive, alive o!Chorus
The Mountains of Mourne
Oh Mary this London’s a wonderful sight
with the people here working by day and by night
They don’t sow potatoes nor barley nor wheat
But there’s gangs of them digging for gold in the street
At least when I asked them that’s what I was told
So Ijust took a hand at this digging for gold
But for aU that I found there I might as well be
Where the mountains of mourne sweep down to the sea
.
I believe that when writing a wish you expressed
As to how the fine ladies of London were dressed
Well if you believe me, when asked to a ball
They don’t wear a top on their dresses at all
Oh, I’ve seen them myself, and you couldn’t in truth
Say ifthey were bound for a ball or a bath.
Don’t be starting them fashions now Mary Macree
Where the mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea
.
I’ve seen England’s king from the top of a bus
I never knew him, though he means to know us;
And though by the saxon we once were oppressed
Still I cheered-God forgive me- I cheered with the rest
And now that he’s visited Erin’s green shore
We’ll be much better friends than we’ve heretofore
When we’ve got all we Want we’re as quiet as can be
Where the mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea
.
You remember young Peter O’Loughlin of course
Well now he is here at the head of the force
I met him today, I was crossing the strand
And he stopped the whole street with one wave of his hand
And there we stood talking of days that are gone
While the whole population of London looked on,
But for all these great powers he’s wishful like me
To be back where dark Moume sweeps down to the sea.
.
There’s beautiful girls here – Oh, never you mind
With beautiful shapes Nature never designed
And lovely complexions, all roses and cream
But O’Loughlin remarked with regard to the same,
That if at those roses you venture to sip
The colours might all come away on your lip
So I’ll wait for the wild rose that’s waiting for me
Where the mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea
Lyrics – Percy FrenchThe Irish Rover
Traditional
On the fourth of July eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from the sweet cove of Cork
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the grand city hall in New York
‘Twas a wonderful craft, she was rigged fore-and-aft
And oh, how the wild winds drove her.
She’d got several blasts, she’d twenty-seven masts
And we called her the Irish Rover.We had one million bales of the best Sligo rags
We had two million barrels of stones
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides,
We had four million barrels of bones.
We had five million hogs, we had six million dogs,
Seven million barrels of porter.
We had eight million bails of old nanny goats’ tails,
In the hold of the Irish Rover.There was awl Mickey Coote who played hard on his flute
When the ladies lined up for his set
He was tootin’ with skill for each sparkling quadrille
Though the dancers were fluther’d and bet
With his sparse witty talk he was cock of the walk
As he rolled the dames under and over
They all knew at a glance when he took up his stance
And he sailed in the Irish RoverThere was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee,
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Jimmy McGurk who was scarred stiff of work
And a man from Westmeath called Malone
There was Slugger O’Toole who was drunk as a rule
And fighting Bill Tracey from Dover
And your man Mick McCann from the banks of the Bann
Was the skipper of the Irish RoverWe had sailed seven years when the measles broke out
And the ship lost it’s way in a fog.
And that whale of the crew was reduced down to two,
Just meself and the captain’s old dog.
Then the ship struck a rock, oh Lord what a shock
The bulkhead was turned right over
Turned nine times around, and the poor dog was drowned
I’m the last of the Irish Rover@toybulldog wrote:
couldn’t you have used the word ‘clique’ as is fashion
as I’m less alcoholically challenged tonight I’ll try and contribute something a little more substantial.
According to Nennius, Cabal was the hound of Arthur. When he was pursuing the boar Troynt, Cabal’s footprint was left on a stone in Wales; this stone mysteriously disappeared each night, always to return in the morning, and Arthur had a cairn built over it.
Now I’d just like to know who Arthur was…………
Imtheochaidh soir is siar
A dtainig ariamh
An ghealach is an ghrianFol lol the doh fol the day
Fol the doh fol the dayImtheochaidh an ghealach’s an ghrian
An Daoine og is a chail ‘na dhiadhFol lol the doh fol the day
Fol the doh fol the dayFol lol the doh fol the day
Fol the doh fol the dayImtheochaidh a dtainig ariamh
An duine og is a chail ne dhiadhFol lol the doh fol the day
Fol the doh fol the dayTranslation
I will go east and go west
[To the places] from whence came
The moon and the sunThe moon and the sun will go
And the young man
With his reputation behind himI will go wherever he came from –
The young man with his reputation behind him
waves to esme xxx
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9rQyAvTHFK0
the sickbed of cuchulainn .the pogues.
dedicated to Esme in the memory of the night i was ejected from the orange lodge :)
@rubyred wrote:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9rQyAvTHFK0
the sickbed of cuchulainn .the pogues.
dedicated to Esme in the memory of the night i was ejected from the orange lodge :)
8)
Rubes, yer a legend yerself :wink:
x
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