Irish Songs

Oh the praties they grow small over here, over here,
Oh the praties they grow small over here.
Oh the praties they grow small and we dig them in the fall,
and we eat them coats and all, over here, over here.
Oh I wish that we were geese, night and morn, night and morn,
Oh I that we were geese, night and morn.
Oh I wish that we were geese and could live our lives in peace
Till the hour of our re-lease, eating corn, eating corn.
Oh we're down in-to the dust over here, over here,
Oh we're down in-to the dust over here.
Oh we're down in-to the dust but the Lord in whom we trust
will re-pay us crumb for crust, over here, over here.

Oh all the money that e'er I had, I spent it in good company,
And all the harm that e'er I done, alas it was to none but me,
And all I've lost for want of wit to mem'ry now I can't recall;
So fill to me this parting glass, Good night and joy be with you all.
If I had money enough to spend, And leisure time to sit awhile,
There is a fair maid in this town, Who sorely has my heart beguiled,
Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips, I own, she has my heart in thrall,
So fill to me this parting glass, Good night, And joy be with you all.
Oh all the comrades e'er I had, They are sorry for my going away,
and all the sweethearts e'er I had, They'd wished me one more day to stay.
But since it falls unto my lot That I should rise and you should not,
I'll gently rise and I'll softly call, Good-night and joy be with you all.