The Rose of Spring forth venturing Too soon to trust the zephyr with her worth, Her crimson smiles and fragrant wiles May waste instead upon the piercing North. For balmy blisses, his icy kisses Fall fast and faster upon her head; While, one by one, with woe foredone, She weeps, and weeps away her petals red. Ye maidens fair, now have a care How ye too dare that stricken rose’s fate! O, bide in bud, lest frost and flood Mar your sweet beauties with as sudden hate. For she who grieves that her gay leaves Unfold not sooner in the Summer sun, And tempts her fate, shall find too late Love over-rash may into ruin run.
Songs of Erin
by Charles Villiers Stanford, Sir (1852 - 1924)
1. The song of the rose  [sung text checked 1 time]
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson2. The only one for me  [sung text checked 1 time]
My love she is far sweeter Than any flower that blows, Her little ear's a lily Her velvet cheek a rose; Her locks like gillygowans Hang golden to her knee. Of all the girls in Ireland, She's the only one for me. Her eyes are fond forget-me-nots, And no such snow is seen Upon the heaving hawthorn bush As crests her bodice green. The thrushes when she's talking Sit listening on the tree, Oh were I King of Ireland, She's the only Queen for me.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson3. Changing her mind  [sung text checked 1 time]
As I rowled on my side-car to Santry Fair, I chanced round a corner on Rose Adair, Her shoes in her hands, as she took the track, And a fowl in a basket upon her back. "Step up Miss Rose! Och that bird's luck, Attendin' the fair as Rose's duck, As Rose's duck, as Rose's duck!" "No Shawn Magee, the bird's a goose And to travel with two, there's no sort of use. I couldn't but laugh, though I'd had it hot, But I fired, as I passed her, one partin' shot. "The poor second gander that got the worst," Says I, "must leave Rose to mind the first. The creature must fly and boldly try To seem a swan in some girl's eye, Some other girl's eye, some other girl's eye. Good day to you, Rose, for I'd best push on, And perhaps at the fair, I'll prove some girl's swan." But hardly a furlong away I'd flown, When plainly behind me I heard her moan. In a breath I was back, where she limped forlorn, With her purty foot pierced by a thumpin' thorn. With one soft squeeze I gave her ease; Then turning kind, says she, "I find I'm changing my mind, - I've changed my mind." "Change more," says I, "What's that?" says she. "Your name to mine, Be Rose Magee.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson4. Lost light of my eyes  [sung text checked 1 time]
Oh, why was I left and he taken instead, Mochuma, Mochuma! my heart and my head? Cold, cold, dark and speechless he lies on his bed; Cold, cold, dark and silent the night dew is shed, But hot, fierce and swift fall the tears for my dead. Oh, why was I left and he taken instead? Oh, why was I left and he taken away, My bright headed Donal, my pride and my stay? His manly cheek reddened with the sun's rising ray, But a cloud of black darkness has hid him away, My hope and my comfort, my joy and my stay. 'Neath that black cloud of sorrow my lost one he lies, And the heart in my bosom to think of it dies, That day after day the dear sun will arise To comfort our hearts from his home in the skies, But never, ah! never I'll see you arise, Lost warmth of my bosom, lost light of my eyes!
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson5. The stratagem  [sung text checked 1 time]
Who'd win a heart must learn the art To hide what he's about. When Kate I met, too soon I let My loving secret out. In vain I'd sigh, in vain I'd try Each trick of eye and speech; Advance, retire, neglect, admire, The rogue I could not reach. Then I grew warm and in a storm Against her out I blew, And she stood fast before my blast And raging I withdrew. Then I began a different plan, I went to Rose Maguire, Who'd had her scene with Con Mulqueen, And asked her to conspire. Says she, "Avick, we'll try the trick." And so we shammed sweethearts, Till Con grew vexed and Kate perplexed, So well we played our parts: And when we found them turning round The very way we wanted, Our stratagem we owned to them And got our pardon granted.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson6. The stolen heart  [sung text checked 1 time]
I was a maiden fair and fond, Smiling, singing all the day, Till Maguire with looks of fire He stole my heart away. The gardener's son, as he stood by, Blossoms four did give to me: The pink, the rue, the violet blue, And the red, red rosy tree. Lass, for your lips the sweet clove pink, For your eyes the violets blue; The rose to speak your damask cheek, For memory the rue. Oh, but my love at first was fond, Now, alas, he's turned untrue, My rose and pink and violet shrink, But tears keep fresh the rue.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson7. The melody of the harp  [sung text checked 1 time]
Oh, Harp of Erin what glamour gay, What dark despairing are in thy lay? What true love slighted thy sorrow wells, What proud hearts plighted thy rapture tells. Round thy dim form lamenting swarm What banshees dread; till, glowing warm, A heavenly iris of hope upsprings From out the tumult that shakes thy strings. (The chief dejected, with drooping brow, Aroused, erected, is hearkening now, The while abhorrent of shame and fear Thy tuneful torrent invades his ear. He calls his clan: "Who will and can The slogan follow in Valour's van?" Then forward thunder the gallant Gael And death and plunder are o'er the pale.) The child is calling through fever dreams; When, softly falling as faery streams, Thy magic Soontree his soul shall sweep, Into the country of blessed sleep. To ears that heed not their longing moan Let lovers plead not with words alone, But seek thine aid. The haughtiest maid Will pause by thy sweet influence swayed; Until the ditty so poignant proves, She melts to pity and melting loves.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson8. The beautiful City of Sligo  [sung text checked 1 time]
We may tramp the earth for all that we're worth, But what odds where you and I go? We shall never meet a spot so sweet As the beautiful City of Sligo. Oh, sure she's a Queen in purple and green, As she shimmers and glimmers her gardens between; And away to Lough Lene the like isn't seen Of her river a-quiver with shadow and sheen, The beautiful City of Sligo. Though bustle and noise are some folks' joys, Your London just gives me ver-ti-go, You can hear yourself talk when out you walk Thro' the beautiful City of Sligo. Oh, sure she's a Queen… As an artist in stones a genius was Jones, Whom so queerly they christened In-i-go, But he hasn't the skill to carve a Grass Hill For the beautiful City of Sligo. Oh, sure she's a Queen… Then for powder and puff and cosmetical stuff, Dear girls to Dame Fashion, ah! why go? When Dame Nature supplies for tresses and eyes Such superior dyes down in Sligo. Oh, sure she's a Queen…
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson9. The blackbird and the wren  [sung text checked 1 time]
Once the blackbird called unto the solemn crow, "O why do you for ever in mourning go?" Quoth the crow, "I lost my own true love, alack! And thereafter for ever I go all in black." Then the blackbird sighed from out the sally bush, "Once I too fell courting a fair young thrush. Oh, but she deceived me and grieved me, Oh, but she turned false, false, O! And ever since in mourning I too go!" Last the little wren he piped, "If we were men, Faith, 'tis we could find us sweethearts, eight, nine and ten. Then if one grew cold or turned unfaithful, O! It is off to another one we each could go." "Perhaps," replied the crow, "that plan of yours might work If we were living in the land of the Turk, But in Christian climes a woman's just as free to give you pain! And so, my friends, in feathers we'll remain."
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson10. Remember the poor  [sung text checked 1 time]
Oh! remember the poor when your fortune is sure, And acre to acre you join; Oh! remember the poor, though but slender your store, And you ne'er can go gallant and fine. Oh! remember the poor when they cry at your door In the raging rain and blast; Call them in! Cheer them up with the bite and the sup, Till they leave you their blessing at last. The red fox has his lair, and each bird of the air. With the night settles warm in his nest, But the King Who laid down His celestial crown For our sakes, He had nowhere to rest. Oh, the poor were forgot till their pitiful lot He bowed himself to endure; If your souls ye would make, for His Heavenly sake, Oh! remember, remember the poor.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson11. The heroes of the sea  [sung text checked 1 time]
I'll tell you of a wonder, that will stiffen up your hair, That happened two poor fishermen convenient to Cape Clear. They just had run their boat afloat, they'd hardly gripped an oar, When their dog leapt in, their cat stepped in, that never did before. Now what overcame the creatures to start from shore? Says one brother: "What's come o'er them two, who ne'er on land agree, To settle up their difference a-this-way on the sea?" "I consave," replied the other, "'tis the portent we could wish For a powerful take of pilchard, since that same's their favourite fish. 'Tis a symptom, for sure, of a power of fish." Well! when the rising moon revealed a swiftly rushing shoal, Their net they shot and found they'd got a purty tidy haul. But when a dozen yards of mesh they'd plumped into the hold, They saw their fish were fine say-rats, which made their blood run cold, As around and around them they screeched and rolled. But ere each rat could rip his way out the noosin' net, Bedad, the jaws of Towzer or the claws of Tom he met. Then safely our two fishermen rowed home from out the bay, And Tom and Towzer from that time were haroes you may say, Round about the country-side, many and many a day.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson12. The black phantom  [sung text checked 1 time]
On for ever, on for ever, Unbeknown beneath the night, O mo chuma! O mu chuma! Stole the silent searching blight, Till it struck us with a shiver, Shaking wide its woeful curse, Like the white plumes of a hearse. Down we dug, but only showered Poison'd praties o'er the slope -- O mo chuma! O mu chuma! Hoping yet agin all hope, Till, at long lost overpower'd, In the gloomy gathering shades We should rest our useless spades. While around us ghostly shadows, Phantoms of our fathers' dead, O mo chuma! O mu chuma! Roamed and roamed with ceaseless tread, Weeping and wailing thro' the meadows, Fit to melt a heart of stone. Ochone! and ochone! Then we knew for solemn certain That the poison breathing cloud -- O mo chuma! O mu chuma! Surely yet would be our shroud, Still would draw its cruel curtain Closer still round child and wife, Till it strangled out their life. O mo chuma! O mu chuma!
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson13. Mary, what's the matter?  [sung text checked 1 time]
"Now, Mary, what's the matter What's come o'er you, dear, That all your lightsome chatter Is no more to hear?" "'Tis nothing, mother deary, Worth your care at all. Who'd not be dull and weary In so dark a Fall?" "Because brown leaves are fluttering, Skies are seldom bright, Will heart-whole girls go uttering Sighs from morn to night?" "Well since you're so perceiving, Mothereen astore, P'raps I've been make-believing, Though my heart was sore." "Would Mary's heart be sorer, If one Myles O'Hea Had asked her father for her And got his wish to-day?" "O Mother there's brave news for me, Now you've brought me joy!" "My dear, if you'd set, 'Choose for me!' I'd have chose that boy."
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson14. Away to the wars  [sung text checked 1 time]
When the route is proclaimed thro' the old barrack yard, To part from our sweethearts it surely is hard! But smother the sigh boys, and swallow the tear, And comfort the darlings with words of good cheer. While the bugles they blow so gaily oh! And away to the battle we marching go. Then it's "Right about face," and we're clearing the street, "Good luck" and "God bless you!" from all that we meet, While all the lazy ones bounce from their beds, And up to their windies and out go their heads. While the bugles they blow so gaily oh! And away to the battle we marching go. Now it's "Halt, Royal Irish!" now "Dress by the left!" And on to the Quay through the crowd we have cleft; Here's cheers for Old Ireland, with twenty cheers more, And off with our ship from the Emerald shore. While the bugles they blow so gaily oh! And away to the battle we marching go.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson15. Lovely Anne  [sung text checked 1 time]
Lovely Anne, oh! lovely Anne! Oh hearken to my bitter cry! Alone on rugged Slievenaman, For your fond sake I lie; For you I've fled my friends, fled my clam, Fair Saxon, have you turned untrue? And has my lovely Amme, my lovely Anne, But brought me here to rue? Lovely Anne, oh, lovely Anne, Since darkly here I laid me down, How oft the wind-swept cannavan, Has seem'd your fluttering gown, And once a maid, with bright milking can, Brush'd hitherward across the dew, "'Tis she, my lovely Anne, my lovely Anne!" She turned and frown'd me through. Lovely Anne, oh, lovely Anne, Cold morn is mounting o'er the height, And your forsaken Irishman Afar must take his flight. Heaven's curse upon the black, heartless ban, That sunders thus the fond and true. Adieu, my lovely Anne, my lovely Anne, For evermore, Adieu!
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson16. Farewell now, Miss Gordon  [sung text checked 1 time]
Farewell! now, Miss Gordon, my day dream is over And I march in the morn with our Royal young Rover. Yet peace be about you both sleeping and waking, Though I live on without you with a heart nigh to breaking. Oh, have you forgotten, oh, have you forgotten, When I found the white heath all among the moor cotton, How you wore it, on your bosom, for a whole week together? Is my love flung away with that spray of white heather? And do you remember, oh, do you remember, When the falling star flashed that bright night of September; How your heart's wish I read in your rapt look of longing? Have you crushed that hope dead, to my heart's bitter wronging? But with lips still locked tight, at your pride's stern commanding, As a statue death white, here before me you're standing. Woe's me we part thus! yet if so we must sever, Farewell now, Miss Gordon, oh, farewell for ever.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson17. Eva Toole  [sung text checked 1 time]
Who's not heard of Eva Toole, Munster's purest, proudest jewel, Queen of Limerick's lovely maidens, Kerry's charming girls? As her gliding course she takes Like a swan across the lakes, With her voice of silver cadence, And her smile of pearls! Oh! the eyes of Eva Toole! Now why would not Cromwell cruel, Just have called two centuries later Here on Carrig height? For one angry azure flash From beneath her ebon lash! _ And away old Noll should scatter Out of Eva's sight. Is't describe you, Eva Toole? As she danced last night at Shrule, Her two feet like swallows skimmin' Up and down the floor; Or the curtsey that she dropped Ev'ry time the music stopped, Not the oldest men or women Saw such grace before. Yet altho' you bore the rule O'er us all then, Eva Toole, Ne'er a one but I was in it Of your sweethearts fine. And my heart's in such a riot, That to keep the crayture quiet I am running round this minute Just to make you mine!
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson18. The falling star  [sung text checked 1 time]
On my heaven he flashed, as the meteor star Out of night will flame from afar. Ah how could I escape his spell? Deep, deep into my heart he fell. Ochone! I believed the stars that burn above Shone less true than his eyes of love. All their lamps beam on and on, But, my falling star, thou art gone. Ochone! And a new love claims my fealty now, Scant of speech and stern of brow. Until death I own his claim. Sorrow is my new love's name. Ochone!
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson19. Kitty of the cows  [sung text checked 1 time]
When Kate gives the warning For the milking in the morning, E'en the cow known for horning comes running to her pail. All the lambs they play about her, And the little bonneens snout her, While their parents they salute her wid a twist of the tail, Just as if they said, "You darling, God bless you!" When we rest from our labour, And, neighbour wid neighbour, Draw in from the sun to the shelter of the tree, Wid the new milk and murphies You come trippin' out to serve us, All the boys' hearts beguilin', alanna machree! While each one of us whispers, "God bless you!" But there's one sweeter hour, When the sun has lost his power And the shadows they come creeping along the dewy land, Then sweet Kitty I go stalking, Till away we two are walking, And 'tis pleasantly we're talking, wid my one hand in her hand And the other slipped around her and welcome!
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson20. The king's cave  [sung text checked 1 time]
Rash Son, return! Yon shores that dazzle With glowing pleasance, glittering plain, And crystal keep is not Hy-Brazil, But some false phantom of the main. And yon bright band thy vision meeting, Their warbled welcome hither fleeting_ Oh, trust not to their siren greeting, Oh, wave not, wave not back again. But veil thine eyes from their entreating And list not their enchanting strain. O Sovran Sire, no cruel vision Compels my curragh o'er the deep! Yea, have we seen the land Elysian, Hy-Brazil out of Ocean leap. None ever knew it smiling nearer, Or hearkened yet, a blessed hearer, Its Virgin Chorus chanting clearer O'er lulled Atlantic's cradled sleep. That strain again! What psalm sincerer From Angel harps to Earth could sweep. With hand to brow the monarch hoary Stood rapt upon the Western ray, Till in a gulf of golden glory The bright bark melted o'er the bay. Then cracked the glass of calm asunder! Then roared the cave the sea cliff under! Then sprang to shore, with hooves of thunder, Mannanan's steeds of ghostly grey. Yet ere the shock, a cry of wonder, "Hy-Brazil's here!" rose far away.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson21. Lullaby  [sung text checked 1 time]
I've found my bonny babe a nest On Slumber Tree. I'll rock you there to rosy rest, Asture Machree! Oh, lulla lo! sing all the leaves On Slumber Tree, Till everything that hurts or grieves Afar must flee. I'd put my pretty child to float Away from me, Within the new moon's silver boat On Slumber Sea. And when your starry sail is o'er, From Slumber Sea, My prescious one, you'll step to shore, On Mother's knee
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson22. The alarm  [sung text checked 1 time]
Hurry down, hurry down, hurry down ever, From the wrack-ridden mountain and yellow rushing river, Stern horsemen and footmen with spear, axe and quiver, Oh, hurry down, hurry down, your land to deliver. Haste, oh, haste, for in cruel might clustering Far and near the fierce Nordman is mustering, Haste, oh, haste, or the daughters you cherish, The bride of your bosom shall far more than perish. Lo! how he toils down that narrow pass yonder, Ensnared by his spoils and oppressed by his plunder! Flash on him, crash on him, God's fire and thunder! And scatter and scatter his fell ranks asunder. Oh, smite the wolf, ere he slinks from the slaughter, Oh, rend the shark, ere he wins to deep water. Pursue and hew him to pieces by the haven, And feast with his red flesh the exulting sea raven.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson23. The song of the Fairy King  [sung text checked 1 time]
Bright Queen of women, oh, come away, Oh, come to my kingdom strange to see: Where tresses flow with a gentle glow; And white as snow is the fair body. Beneath the silky curtains of arching ebon 'brows, Soft eyes of sunny azure the heart enthral, A speech of magic songs to each rosy mouth belongs, And sorrowful sighing can ne'er befall. Oh bright are the blooms of thine own Innisfail And green is her garland around the West; But brighter flowers and greener bowers Shall all be ours in that country blest. Or can her streams compare to the runnels rich and rare Of slow yellow honey and swift red wine, That softly slip to the longing lip With magic flow through that land of mine? We roam the earth in its grief and mirth, But move unseen of all therein; For before their gaze there hangs the haze, The heavy haze of their mortal sin. But oh! our age it wastes not; for our beauty tastes not Of Evil's tempting apple and droops and dies. Cold death shall slay us never but for ever and forever Love's stainless ardours shall illume our eyes. Then Queen of women, oh come away, Far, far away to my fairy throne, To my realm of rest in the magic West, Where sin and sorrow are all unknown.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson24. Clare's dragoons  [sung text checked 1 time]
When on Ramillies' bloody field The baffled French were forc'd to yield, The victor Saxon backward reel'd Before the charge of Clare's men. The flags we conquer'd in that fray Look lone in Ypres choir they say: We'll win them company today Or bravely die, like Clare's men. Vive la! for Ireland's wrong, And vive la! for Ireland's right, Vive la! in battle throng For a Spanish steed and sabre. Another Clare is here to lead, The worthy son of such a breed, The French expect some famous deed When Clare leads on his warriors. Our Colonel comes from Brian's race, His wounds are in his breast and face, The gap of danger's still his place,- The foremost of his squadron. Vive la! for Ireland's….. Oh, comrades think how Ireland pines For exiled lords and rifled shrines, - Her dearest hope the ordered lines And bursting charge of Clare's men. Then fling your green flag to the sky, Be Limerick your battle cry, And charge till blood floats fetlock high Around the track of Clare's men. Vive la! for Ireland's…..
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson25. The bower in my breast  [sung text checked 1 time]
I once loved a boy who would come and go Whenever I made my request; Till, the truth for to tell, I loved him so well That I built him a bower in my breast, In my breast, A bower of green hope in my breast. But the times grew so black, that at last he would sail His fortunes to seek in the West. Long sorry was I to bid him good-bye; For I'd built him a bower in my breast, In my breast, A bower of green hope in my breast. O his letters were loving, his letters were long, That came floating far out of the West. Then cold, short and few they turned, wirrasthrue! And goodbye to the bower in my breast, In my breast, The bower of green hope in my breast.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson26. Marching to Candahar  [sung text checked 1 time]
Marching, forced marching, At stretch of speed so strong the need, Marching, forced marching, And Bobs himself to lead. Horse, foot and gun at call, Like wool upon a ball, 'Tis in and out and round about He winds and binds us all. Marching, forced marching, For weeks and weeks, o'er moors and peaks; Marching and outmarching Ten thousand grand old Greeks. Till Xenophon's harangues Of stades and parasangs, By all the powers this march of ours To Banagher it bangs. Marching and marching, So swift and far by sun and star! On marching and marching Away for Candahar. They say she's sore beset, But through the Afghan net We boys will break, and no mistake, And save the city yet.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson27. The quern song  [sung text checked 1 time]
Maids, at morn, grind the good corn Each in her mill with a will! In go the oats, wheat and pearly barley, Down in a shower falls the flour. Winding strong, grinding all day long, Round and round goes the mill; Grinding turn-about, till the meal is out, Must never, never be still. Those hands that are strongest Will find a welcome here, And they who work the longest Shall earn the best cheer. Those hands that are strongest Will find a welcome here, And they who work the longest Shall earn the best cheer. Winding strong, grinding all day long, Round and round goes the mill; Grinding turn-about, till the meal is out, Must never, never be still.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson28. I shall not die for love of thee  [sung text checked 1 time]
O Woman, shapely as the swan, Shall I turn wan for looks from thee? Nay bend those blue love-darting eyes On men unwise, they wound not me. Red lips and ripe and rose from soft cheek, Shall limbs turn weak and colour flee, And languorous grace and foam white foam Shall still blood storm because of ye? Thy slender waist, the cool of gold In ringlets rolled around thy knee, Thy scented sighs and looks of flame They shall not tame my spirit free. For, Woman, shapely as the swan, A wary man hath nurtured me; White neck and arm, bright lip and eye, I shall not die for love of ye.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson29. O'Donnell's march  [sung text checked 1 time]
Oh! have you heard the tidings? Limerick's aflame, Kerry and the Ridings Out in Red Hugh's name: Till chiefs so lately mocking Around the flag are flocking And Dublin's towers are rocking At O'Donnell's fame. The rain it ran in fountains Then there fell such frost, That Slieve Phelim's mountains Swift as fire he crossed. Past every Saxon Warder He's broke the Southern Border, And struck in battle order Mountjoy's startled host. Then hail to Hugh O'Donnell! Hail, Clan Donnell, hail! Out of far Tyrconnell Hosting to Kinsale! Oh, heroes of Blackwater, Stay not your swords of slaughter, Until your foes ye scatter Headlong through the Pale.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson30. The death of Oscar  [sung text checked 1 time]
I sought my own son over Gowra's black field, Where the host of the Fians was shattered, Where fell all our mighty ones, and helmet and shield O'er the red earth lay shamefully scattered. I sought my own Oscar and my proud heart upleaped, As at last on a lone ridge I found him, His stern hand still clinging to the sword that had reaped Swathe on swathe of the dead foes around him. He held out his arms, though the drear mist of death Had begun o'er his bright eyes to gather. "I thank God," he faltered with his failing breath, "That thou still art unhurt, Oh, my father." Then down, down I knelt by my heart's dearest one, All else beside himself forgetting; Till Oscar's proud spirit passed forth like the sun In a red sea of glory setting.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson31. Daniel Whitty  [sung text checked 1 time]
As she sat spinning beside her door, Sweet Kitty Kelly of Farranfore, In dropped, as often he'd done before, Ned Byrne, the young Schoolmaster. He took the seat that she signed him to And then that same to her side he drew, When up there hurried big Tom McHugh Who lived by lath and plaster. He took the seat that Miss Kate supplied And drew that same to her other side "Now do spake one at a time," she cried, "And we'll get on the faster." Says Ned, "Miss Kelly, but don't you see, My business needs but yourself and me." "Then since, at present at least, we're three, 'Twill have to wait," says Kitty. "Now Tom McHugh, 'tis your turn to start." "Well then, Miss Kitty, first come apart." "And hurt poor Ned to the very heart! Your selfish plans I pity." But since I've guessed what you're both about, P'raps now 'tis best not to lave you in doubt; So here's the whole of the murder out -- I'm promised to Daniel Whitty.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson32. Roddy More the rover  [sung text checked 1 time]
Of all the rovin' Jacks that e'er to Farranfone came over As paramount I'd surely count ould Roddy More the Rover; Wid steeple hat and stiff cravat and nate nankeen knee breeches Aud on his back a pedlar's pack just rowlin' o'er with riches. (For so it was when o'er the hill his coat-tails they'd come flyin' The sharpest tongue of all was still, the crossest child quit cryin', Ould women even left their tay, ould men their glass of toddy, An' spoon in hand, a welcome grand would wave and wave to Roddy.) Then when his treasures he'd unlade in view of all the village, In from her milkin' ran the maid, each boy from out the tillage, The while the rogue, in each new vogue, the lasses he'd go drapin', Until their lads his ribbons, plaids and rings had no escapin'. Now whist your noise and take your toys, cried he, "My darlin' childer; Or my best ballads wid your prate ye'll woefully bewilder." Then his "Come-all-ye's" he'd advance wid such a fine comether That you might say he took away your since and pince together. (But there of all the roamin' Jack's that trass the country over, Far paramount I'd ever count ould Roddy More the Rover. For deed an' I believe that when his sperrit parts his body, If he's allowed, he'll draw a crowd in Heaven itself, will Roddy.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson33. Trottin' to the fair  [sung text checked 1 time]
Trottin' to the fair Me and Moll Molony, Seated, I declare On a single pony. How am I to know that Molly's safe behind, With our heads in oh, that Awkw'rd way inclined? By her gentle breathin' Whisper'd past my ear, And her white arms wreathin' Warm around me here. Thus on Dobbin's back I discoursed the darling, Till upon our track Leaped a mongrel snarling. "Ah!" says Moll, "I'm frightened That the pony'll start!" And her pretty hands she tightened Round my happy heart; Till I axed her "May I Steal a kiss or so?" And my Molly's grey eye Didn't answer no.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931), "Trottin' to the fair", appears in The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves, in Countryside Songs, and Songs and Ballads, first published 1908
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson34. Like a stone in the street  [sung text checked 1 time]
I'm left all alone like a stone at the side of the street, With no kind "good day" on the way from the many I meet. Still with looks cold and high they go by, not one brow now unbends, None holds out his hand of the hand of my fair-weather friends. They help'd me to spend to its end all my fine shining store, They drank to my health and my wealth till both were no more. And now they are off with a scoff as they leave me behind, "When you've ate the rich fruit, underfoot with the bare bitter rind." There's rest deep and still on yon hill by our old chapel side, Where I laid you long ago in my woe, my young one year's bride. Then ochone! for relief from my grief into madness I flew. Would to God ere that day in the clay I'd been cover'd with you.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson35. The Daughter of the Rock  [sung text checked 1 time]
As on Killarney's bosom blue We lay with lifted oars, He challenged with his clarion true The silent shores. And straight from off her mountain throne The Daughter of the Rock Took up that challenge, tone by tone, With airy mock. And twice and thrice from hill to hill She tossed it o'er the heather, Then drew the notes with one wild thrill Together. Like pearls of silver dew From a fragrant purple flower, Echo's secret heart into They shower. We floated on and ever on With many a warbled tune, Until above the water wan Awoke the moon. Then with a sudden strange surprise A clearer challenge came From out his eager lips, and eyes Of ardent flame. Like Echo answering his horn, At first I mocking met him; Till lest e'en counterfeited scorn Should fret him. From all my heart strings caught Faint as Echo's closing stress, Stole the answer that he sighing sought, Love's low yes.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson36. The sailor's bride  [sung text checked 1 time]
And is he coming home today Who all these years has ranged? And will he be the same to me , Although so have changed? The same again, the same as when At first he courting came And looked me through with eyes so blue -- Ah, will he be the same? I would have dressed in all my best; He'd have me wear my worst, The faded gown of home spun brown In which I met him first. My woman's heart would have me smart; I'm but a woman still. Yet hide, gay gown, come, old one down; Let Donal have his way. The Southern Star has fetched the Bar, She's signalled from the land. Quick, little Donal, to my arms! Now on my shoulders stand! There, there she sails! He's at the rails. For joy my eyes run o'er. Wave, little lad, to your own dad! Aye, 'tis himself once more.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson37. The riddle  [sung text checked 1 time]
Raise us a riddle as spinning we sit. P'raps I have one that your fancy will fit. Come, then advance it with all of your wit. Some have got the barley showin', Some a purty patch of oats, Others just the praties growin' With a mountainside for goats. Come with me through meadows flow'ry Up where furze and heather blow, If my secret golden dowry, Lasses, you would like to know. Surely hid treasure is in your head. Wrongly my riddle this time you have read. Come, give us hold of a stronger thread. How is this my herds can utter Of themselves the milk all day, Churn and turn it into butter Faix and firkin it safe away. Kerry cows upon their brows Bear a pair of branching horns; But my kind they wear behind One, only one, like Unicorns. Ah, then, your herds are the bees on the height. Deed and this time you've guessed right. Pleasant the riddle you put us tonight.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson38. I pray you be patient  [sung text checked 1 time]
Mourn not beyond measure, my long absent lover, These eyes dim with watching, this trouble-pale mouth, As for you they have faded, for you they'll recover -- Your violets, your roses, refreshed after drouth. Yet I pray you be patient, for, oh, I am tired, Too tired, too tired to be closely caressed; So take me and soothe me, my love long desired' As a mother would lay her own child on her breast. So long I have starved, oh, a little while longer Thus tenderly, slenderly portion my bliss. More now were too much, when I'm braver and stronger, I'll sigh back your whispers, restore you your kiss. O see how the shadows in sunshine are fleeting! O hark how the robins rejoice in the lane! There! lay my thin hand on your heart's happy beating, There! lift my tired head to your shoulder again.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson39. More of Cloyne  [sung text checked 1 time]
Little sister, whom the Fay Hides away within his doon, Deep below you tufted fern Oh, list and learn my magic tune. Long ago, when snared like thee By the Shee, my harp and I O'er them wove the slumber spell, Warbling well its lullaby. Till with dreamy smiles they sank, Rank on rank, before the strain; Then I rose from out the rath And found my path to earth again. Little sister, to my woe Hid below among the Shee, List and learn my magic tune, That it full soon May succour thee.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson40. The reaper's revenge  [sung text checked 1 time]
Oft and oft I dream, astore, With secret sighs and laughter, How once you reaped the field before, And I came gathering after. While tenderly, tenderly with the corn Looks of love you threw me; Till I stood up with eyes of scorn And withered your hope to woo me. Oft and oft I'm dreaming still, With smiles and tears together, Of how I stretched my weak and ill, Through all the wintry weather; While tenderly, tenderly still you'd tap, Seeking news of Norah; Till I grew fonder of your rap Than father's voice, anora! Must I mind the plan conceal'd That through the spring around you, To wait to find me in the field, Where rashly I refused you; Then earnestly, earnestly in my eyes Gaze till I return'd you The look of looks and sigh of sighs On the spot where once I spurn'd you.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson41. The Killarney hunt  [sung text checked 1 time]
The hunt is up! and hound and pup Are tuning round Killarney; The hunt is out! O there's a shout! You'd hear it down to Blarney. There goes the stag along the crag, A Royal now I warrant, See how he sails across the rails And flies the foaming torrent. Away in Tork they wind and work, Among the whorts and heather. The scent's in doubt, now all are out, Now hark! They're all together. For old Jack Keogh he marked him go And waved 'em with his wattle. A full George crown they've thrown him down, With that he'll moist his throttle. Yoicks! Tally ho! Away they go! See how the turf he's skimming. He's through the brake, he's took the lake, And after him they're swimming. Their floating ranks are on his flanks, They're closing now behind him; He feels the land, he's up the strand! Now, mind him, oh now mind him! Hull-hullahoo! they flash in view Along the shining shingle; In length'ning row they streaming go, Now with the shades they mingle; While, underneath the evening star, A phantom hunt seems flying, Now swelling near, now echoing far, Now down the breezes dying.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson42. Oh my grief! oh my grief!  [sung text checked 1 time]
Oh my grief! oh my grief! Oh my grief all the morning! Oh my grief all the even! Oh my grief all the night! Over flower, over leaf Falls the shade of her scorning, And darkens blue heaven With its desolate blight. Oh, wind, and oh, wind Wailing over the forest, With thee my sad spirit Would fain wander forth! Thus all unconfined, When sorrow was sorest, I too should inherit The strange, silent North. More pure and more chaste, Thou desolate Norland, Than the South's sighing languors In bowers rose-hung, Thy wan, winter waste, Thy still solemn foreland, Aurora's red angers The white stars among.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson43. Since we're apart  [sung text checked 1 time]
Since we're apart, since we're apart, The weariness and lonely smart Are growing greatly round my heart; Upon my pillow, ere I sleep, The full of my two shoes I weep, And like a ghost all day I creep. 'Tis what you said you'd never change Or with another ever range, Now ev'n the Church is cold and strange. There side by side our seats we took, There side by side we held one book; But with another now you look. And when the service it was o'er, We'd walk the meadow's flow'ry floor, As we shall walk and walk no more. For while beneath the starry glow Ye two sit laughing light and low, A shade among the shades I go.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson44. My garden at the back  [sung text checked 1 time]
When I came over from old Rosstrevor, Here to London Town, A lonesome spell upon me fell For Kate and County Down. 'Twas gloomy toil for her glad smile, Grey stone for grassy track; Till I took heart at last to start A garden at the back. With country mould at morn and eve, Still I plied my plot; Then sow'd and set musk, mignonette, Pink, rose, forget-me-not. Till bees they flew from out the blue, And butterflies they'd tack, O blessed hour, from flow'r to flow'r Of my garden at the back. Then when I 'd but the Christmas rose, To end the flow'ry race, Around the corner came my scorner With a sadden'd face. The cause to guess of her distress For sure I was not slack, And now her eyes make Paradise Of my garden at the back.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson45. The County of Mayo  [sung text checked 1 time]
On the deck of Lynch's boat, here I sit in woeful plight, Through my sighing all the day and my weeping all the night. Were it not that full of grief from my people forth I go, O, 'tis royally I'd sing all thy praises, sweet Mayo. When I dwelt at home in peace, and my gold did much abound, In the midst of fair young maids, how the Spanish ale went round! Oh! the change from that gay day thus, across the ocean flow, To be laid in Santa Cruz far and far from sweet Mayo. Sadly changed are Irrul's girls; very proud they've grown and high With their patches and their powder, for I pass their buckes by; But their airs I little heed, since the Lord will have it so That I'm forced to foreign lands far and far from sweet Mayo. 'Tis my grief that Patrick Loughlin is not Earl in Irrul still, And that Brian Duff no more rules as lord upon the hill, And that Colonel Hugh O'Grady should be lying dead and low, And I sailing, sailing swift from the County of Mayo.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson46. Alone, all alone  [sung text checked 1 time]
When westward I'm called, 'Tis not east I'll be going. Should I sup the salt wave With the pure spring to hand, Or prefer the base weed To the richest rose blowing, Or not follow my own love The first through the land. Oh, my heart is a fountain Of sorrow unspoken, A virgin nut-cluster Untimely down torn! And oh, but my heart Flutters bleeding and broken, Like a bird beating out Its wild life on a thorn. His cheek is the hue Of the blackberry blossom, And blackberry blue His dark tresses above; And I'm cryin' without Who should lie in his bosom And I doubt and I doubt If he's true to his love. 'Tis time I should part you, Proud, hurrying City; For your tongues they cut sharper By far than your stone, And your hearts than that same Are more hardened to pity; So my love I'll go seeking, Alone, all alone!
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson47. The death of General Wolfe  [sung text checked 1 time]
"The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave Await alike the inevitable hour -- The paths of glory lead but to the grave." Thus great Wolfe sighed, While on muffled oar, We darkling crossed St. Lawrence's whispering tide For the foeman's unguarded shore. Then, one by one, far up the fearful steep We toiled and toiled through all the live long night; Till on the Frenchmen startled out of sleep Enraged Montcalm Bade his host advance -- And on the frowning heights of Abraham Closed the champions of England and France. Oh, fierce we fought until a fatal ball Found Wolfe's brave bosom through the battle smoke. Then charged the Scots with fiery slogan call And backward reeled the French and broke. "See! Sir, they run!" "Who?" he faintly cried. "The French." "Now God be praised, our arms have won!" And contented he turned and died.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson48. The songs Erin sings  [sung text checked 1 time]
I've heard the lark's cry thrill the sky o'er the meadows of Lusk, And the first joyous gush of the thrush from Adare's April wood, At thy lone music's spell, Philomel, magic stricken I've stood, When in Espan afar star on star trembled out of the dusk. While Dunkerton's blue dove murmured love 'neath her nest I have sighed, And by mazy Culdaff with a laugh mocked the cuckoo's refrain, Derrycarn's dusky bird I have heard piping joy hard by pain And the swan's last lament sobbing sent over Moyle's mystic tide. Yet as bright shadows pass from the glass of the darkening lake, As the rose's rapt sigh must die, when the zephyr is stilled; In oblivion grey sleeps each lay that those birds ever trilled, But the songs Erin sings from her strings shall immortally wake.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson49. Like a ghost I am gone  [sung text checked 1 time]
In the wan, mistful morning to Ocean's wild gales Afar from her scorning I loose my black sails; For my kiss was scarce cold on her cheek when she turned And my love for the gold of a renegade spurned. Under cloud chill and pallid, while hollow winds moan, Lies alas! our green-valleyed, purple-peaked Innishowen; For as if my sad case she were sharing to-day, All her glory and grace she hides weeping away. Farewell, Lake of Shadows! Buncrana, farewell To your thymy sea meadows, your fern-fluttering dell! Adieu, Donegal! o'er the waters death wan, Under Heaven's heavy pall, like a ghost I am gone.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson50. The leafy Cool‑kellure  [sung text checked 1 time]
Just between the day and dark, O'er the green of the glimmering Park, Lost in heaven one lonely lark Soared and poured his passion pure; Till the long, sweet shivering strain Took, methought, this meaning plain, As it showered like silver rain Softly into the Cool-kellure. How we prayed and prayed of old, Blackbird, with the crown of gold, That you'd cross the waters cold Erin's sorrows at last to cure. But you sought and sought in vain Succour out of France and Spain, None would help you here to reign, Blackbird, over the Cool-kellure. Yet the Blackbird far above Now I rank the Royal Dove Who, at last for Erin's love Wreathing with shamrock her bosom pure, O'er the dreadful flood's decrease Flutters with its spray of peace To her bow'r of Queenly ease Nesting under the Cool-kellure.
Authorship:
- by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)
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Researcher for this page: Mike Pearson