tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28789486579616538742011-11-27T16:22:59.420-08:00A collection of some of the most beautiful traditional irish folk songs. Also videos of unknown artists doing their cover versions of Irish Folk songs.Webmasternoreply@blogger.comBlogger351100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-60381833864455823732011-03-18T15:06:00.000-07:002011-03-18T15:08:18.652-07:00

Dirty Old Town I met my love by the gas work´s wall Dreamed a dream by the old canal I kissed my girl by the factory wall Dirty old town Dirty old town Clouds are drifting ´cross the moon Cats are prowling on their beat Springs a girl from the streets at night Dirty old town, dirty old town I heard a siren from the docks Saw a train set the night on fire I smelt the spring on the smokey wind

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-7164587968603289062011-03-18T14:55:00.000-07:002011-03-18T15:00:15.712-07:00

Nice version of "another irish drinking song"... :-) The guy is from Wichita, Kansas... USA, of course... but he sounds really Irish! :-) Lyrics:  Gather 'round, ye lads and lasses, set ye for awhile; Hearken to me mournful tale of the Emerald Isle. Let's all raise our glasses high to friends and family gone, And lift our voices in another Irish drinking song! Consumption took me mother

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-28443597354796879112011-03-18T14:50:00.000-07:002011-03-18T15:09:55.901-07:00

A german guy by the name of Torsten Q singing his version of the scottish folk song "the wild mountain thyme"... Check out Torsten´s chanell on youtube: http://www.youtube.com/user/torstenq

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-64904463763116561132010-05-10T11:29:00.000-07:002010-05-10T11:29:30.149-07:00

It´s A Long Way To Tipperary Up to mighty London came an Irishman one day, As the streets are paved with gold, sure ev'ryone was gay; Singing songs of Piccadilly, Strand and Leicester Square, Till Paddy got excited, then he shouted to them there: Chorus: lt's a long way to Tipperary, it's a long way to go; It's a long way to Tipperary, To the sweetest girl I know! Good-ye, Piccadilly, farewell,

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-83685884567521505732010-05-10T11:22:00.000-07:002010-05-10T11:22:17.002-07:00

Black Cavalry Lyrics In the first of me downfall I put out the door, And I straight made me way on for Carrick-on-Suir; Going out by Rathronan 'twas late in the night Going out the west gate for to view the gaslight Chorus Radley fal the diddle I Radley fal the riddle airo. There I met with a youth and unto him I said "Would you kindly direct me to where I'll get a bed?" It was then he

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-37595263140933179822010-05-09T16:44:00.001-07:002010-05-09T16:44:40.999-07:00

Here´s something we found on youtube - a German band doing a pretty good cover version of Molly Mallone:

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-17689479796608855842009-04-23T13:41:00.000-07:002009-04-23T13:43:09.734-07:00

Looking for videos on youtube I just found this brilliant session by four unknown musicians. Anybody got a clue who they are?

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-68406794700766525352009-04-23T13:19:00.000-07:002010-05-10T14:30:33.955-07:00

The Pretty Maid Milking The Cow It was on a fine summer's morning When the birds sweetly tuned on each bough I heard a fair maid sing most charming As she sat a-milking her cow Her voice, it was chanting melodious She left me scarce able to go My heart it is soothed in solace My Cailín deas crúite na mbó With courtesy I did salute her Good-morrow, most amiable maid I'm your captive slave for

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-16486850364507610842009-04-23T10:25:00.000-07:002010-05-10T14:31:39.884-07:00

God Save Ireland High upon the gallows tree swung the noble hearted three By the vengeful tyrant stricken in their bloom But they met him face to face with the courage of the race And they went with souls undaunted to their doom Chorus: God save Ireland, said the heroes, God save Ireland, said they all Whether on the scaffold high or the battlefield we die Oh what matters if for Ireland dear we

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-38632549311259145272009-04-22T20:00:00.001-07:002009-04-22T20:00:56.648-07:00

The Foggy DewAs down the glen one Easter morn, to a city fair rode IThere armed lines of marching men in squadrons passed me byNo pipes did hum, no battle drum, did sound its loud tattooBut the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey swell, rang out in the foggy dewRight proudly high in Dublin town, they flung out the flag of war'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky than at Suvla or Sud El BarAnd from the

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-40260283873759115422009-04-22T19:57:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:02:19.245-07:00

White Orange And GreenIn the Boal Gouty Mountains, so far far away,I will tell you a story that happened one day,About a young girl her age was 16And she carried a banner White Orange and GreenAnd a young English soldier was passing her way,He saw the young girl with her banner so gay,He laughed and joked and got off his machine,He turned to capture White Orange and Green,Oh you cant have my

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-23811605788244053772009-04-22T18:29:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:03:10.182-07:00

Mrs McGraw"Mrs. McGraw," the captain said,"would you like to make a soldierout of your son, Ted?With a scarlet coat and a big cocked hat,Mrs. McGraw wouldn't you like that?"With me too-rye-ayFoddle-diddle-dayWith me toorye oorye oorye-ayWith me toorye-ayFoddle diddle dayMe toorye oorye oorye-ayMrs. McGraw lived on the seashorefor the length of seven long years or moreWhen a great big ship sail

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-37060391956113152972009-04-22T18:20:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:03:20.563-07:00

The Kerry DanceChorus:Oh, the days of the Kerry dancingOh, the ring of the piper's tuneOh, for one of those hours of gladnessGone, alas, like our youth, too soon!When the boys began to gatherIn the glen of a summer's nightAnd the Kerry piper's tuningMade us long with wild delight!Oh, to think of itOh, to dream of itFills my heart with tears!Was there ever a sweeter ColleenIn the dance than Eily

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-87426229395391422322009-04-22T18:19:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:03:39.711-07:00

The Mountains Of MourneOh Mary this London's a wonderful sightWith people here workin' by day and by nightThey don't sow potatoes, nor barley, nor wheatBut there's gangs of them diggin' for gold in the streetAt least when I asked them that's what I was toldSo I just took a hand at this diggin' for goldBut for all that I found there I might as well beWhere the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-56723873476501252522009-04-22T18:18:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:04:05.002-07:00

The Wearing Of The GreenO Paddy dear, and did ye hear the news that's goin' round?The shamrock is by law forbid to grow on Irish ground!No more Saint Patrick's Day we'll keep, his color can't be seenFor there's a cruel law ag'in the Wearin' o' the Green."I met with Napper Tandy, and he took me by the handAnd he said, "How's poor old Ireland, and how does she stand?""She's the most distressful

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-44455235933414775782009-04-22T18:16:00.001-07:002009-04-22T20:04:19.633-07:00

Four Green FieldsWhat did I have, said the fine old womanWhat did I have, this proud old woman did sayI had four green fields, each one was a jewelBut strangers came and tried to take them from meI had fine strong sons, who fought to save my jewelsThey fought and they died, and that was my grief said sheLong time ago, said the fine old womanLong time ago, this proud old woman did sayThere was war

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-18724152294608639232009-04-22T18:14:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:04:36.282-07:00

The Minstrel BoyThe Minstrel Boy to the war is goneIn the ranks of death you will find himHis father's sword he hath girded onAnd his wild harp slung behind himLand of Song, said the warrior bardThough all the world betrays theeOne sword, at least, thy rights shall guardOne faithful harp shall praise thee!The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's chainCould not bring that proud soul underThe harp he

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-18477057207031584932009-04-22T18:12:00.001-07:002009-04-22T20:04:53.729-07:00

Molly MalloneIn Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so prettyI first set my eyes on sweet Molly MaloneAs she wheeled her wheel-barrowThrough streets broad and narrowCrying cockles and mussels, alive, alive-O!Chorus:Alive, alive-O! alive, alive-O!Crying cockles and mussels, alive, alive-O!She was a fish-monger, but sure 'twas no wonderFor so were her father and mother beforeAnd they each

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-47939678530895020942009-04-22T18:12:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:05:12.774-07:00

CarrickfergusI wish I was in CarrigfergusOnly for nights in Bally GrantI would swim over the deepest oceanOnly for nights in Bally GrantBut the sea is wide and I cannot swim overAnd neither have I the wings to flyIf I could find me a handsome boatsmanTo ferry me over, to my love and die.My childhood days bring sad reflectionsOf happy times I spent so long agoMy boyhood friends and my own

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-84154536791828166002009-04-22T18:10:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:05:30.947-07:00

Erin Go BraghI'll tell you a story of a row in the town,When the green flag went up and the Crown rag came down,'Twas the neatest and sweetest thing ever you saw,And they played the best games played in Erin Go Bragh.One of our comrades was down at Ring's end,For the honor of Ireland to hold and defend,He had no veteran soldiers but volunteers raw,Playing sweet Mauser music for Erin Go Bragh.Now

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-3016322918328705782009-04-22T18:08:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:05:47.196-07:00

Cliffs Of DoneenYou may travel far far from your own native landFar away o'er the mountains, far away o'er the foamBut of all the fine places that I've ever beenSure there's none can compare with the cliffs of Doneen.Take a view o'er the mountains, fine sights you'll see thereYou'll see the high rocky mountains o'er the west coast of ClareOh the town of Kilkee and Kilrush can be seenFrom the high

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-64188210546832897582009-04-22T18:05:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:06:04.082-07:00

The Burning TimesIn the cool of the evening, they used to gather,'neath the stars in the meadow circling an old oak tree.At the times appointed by the seasons of the earth andthe phases of the moon.In the center, often stood a woman, equal with the othersrespected for her word.One of the many they call the witches, the healers andthe teachers of the wisdom of the Earth.And the people grew in the

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-59517396567159471962009-04-22T18:04:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:06:16.601-07:00

Bridget O'MalleyOh Bridget O'Malley, you've left my heart shakenWith a hopeless desolation I'd have you to knowIt's the wonders of admiration your quiet face has takenAnd your beauty will haunt me wherever I go.The white moon above the pale sands, the pale stars above the thorn treeAre cold beside my darling, but no purer than sheI gaze upon the cold moon till the stars drown in the warm seasAnd

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-40523523924101249482009-04-22T18:02:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:06:34.783-07:00

BRYAN O'LYNNBryan O'Lynn was a gentleman bornHe lived at a time when no clothes they were worn,But as fashion went out, of course Bryan walked in"Whoo, I'll lead the fashions," says Bryan O'Lynn.Bryan O'Lynn had no breeches to wearHe got him a sheepskin to make him a pair,With the fleshy side out and the woolly side in,"Whoo, they're pleasant and cool." says Bryan O'Lynn.Bryan O'Lynn had no shirt

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-22544650857102036542009-04-22T18:00:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:06:47.118-07:00

Brennan On The Moor'Tis of a brave young highwayman this story I will tellHis name was Willie Brennan and in Ireland he did dwellIt was on the Kilwood Mountain he commenced his wild careerAnd many a wealthy nobleman before him shook with fearIt was Brennan on the moor, Brennan on the moorBold, brave and undaunted was young Brennan on the moorOne day upon the highway as young Willie he went downHe

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-85998194215469785652009-04-22T17:55:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:07:04.753-07:00

Bold Robert EmmetThe struggle is over, the boys are defeated,Old Ireland's surrounded with sadness and gloom,We were defeated and shamefuIIy treated,And I, Robert Emmet, awaiting my doom.Hung, drawn and quartered, sure that was my sentence,But soon I will show them no coward am I.My crime is the love of the land I was born in,A hero I lived and a hero I'll die.Chorus:Bold Robert Emmet, the

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-31074191958432081402009-04-22T17:53:00.002-07:002009-04-22T20:07:15.808-07:00

The Black Velvet BandIn a neat little town they call BelfastApprenticed in trade I was boundAnd many an hour of sweet happinessI spent in that neat little townTill bad misfortune befell meAnd caused me to stray from the landFar away from my friends and relationsTo follow the black velvet bandHer eyes they shone like the diamondYou'd think she was queen of the landAnd her hair hung over her

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-14146716453017618802009-04-22T17:53:00.001-07:002009-04-22T20:07:39.959-07:00

Black Is The Colour Black is the colour of my true love's hairHer lips are like some roses fairShe's the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands.I love the ground whereon she standsI love my love and well she knowsI love the grass whereon she goes.But I know the day it never will comewhen she and I will be as one.I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weepBut satisfied I never can sleepI'll write her a

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-5837516958874482142009-04-22T17:50:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:08:06.913-07:00

I Asked My Love To Take A WalkI asked my love to walk with me,Just to walk a little way.And as we walked, 'twas then we talkedOf our approaching wedding day.Chorus:Then only say that you'll be mineAnd in no other arms entwine.Down beside, where the waters flowDown by the banks of the Ohio.I held a knife against her breastAs gently in my arms she pressed,Crying "Willie, Oh Willie! Don't murder

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-13632707674437207282009-04-22T17:49:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:08:25.233-07:00

At 21At twenty-one I first begunTo court my neighbor's childWe both being young and full of funBright Phoebus on us smiledWe both being young and full of funRight well we did agree'Twas well I knew she would prove trueAnd loyal unto me.At twenty-two no man could viewAll the beauty that this maid possessedHer curling hair in ringlets fairHung down her snow white breastThe picture of her two blue

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-31309272546470750402009-04-22T17:47:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:08:38.702-07:00

As I Walked OutAs I walked out on an evening so clear,A young man lamented for the loss of his dear,And as he lamented, full sore he did cry,Saying,"'Alas, I'm tormented, for love I must die.""My dear and my jewel, my honey," said he,"Will you let me gang wi'you a sweetheart to be?And my dear and my jewel, my honey," said he,"Will you let me gang wi'you a sweetheart to be?""Were I to say yes, I

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-91240995799584016592009-04-22T17:40:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:08:57.196-07:00

All Around My HatMy love she was fair, and my love she was kindAnd cruel the judge and jury that sentenced her awayFor thieving was a thing that she never was inclined toThey sent my love across the sea ten thousand miles away.All around my hat, I will wear the green willow,All around my hat for a year and a dayAnd if anyone should question me the reason for my wearing itI'll tell them that my

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-90321634215296359602009-04-22T17:36:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:09:14.925-07:00

A Nation Once AgainWhen boyhood's fire was in my bloodI read of ancient freemen,For Greece and Rome who bravely stood,Three hundred men and three men;And then I prayed I yet might seeOur fetters rent in twain,And Ireland. long a province, beA Nation once again!Chorus:A nation once again,A nation once again,And Ireland, long a province, beA Nation once again!And from that time, through wildest woe

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-33231417321135326412009-04-22T17:34:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:09:31.070-07:00

A Man You Don´t Meet Every DayOh, my name is Jock Stewart, I'm a canny gaun man,and a roving young fellow I've been.So be easy and free, when you're drinking with me,I'm a man you don't meet every day.I have acres of land, I have men of command,I have always a shilling to spare.So be easy and free, when you're drinking with me,I'm a man you don't meet every day.So come fill up your glasses with

Webmasternoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2878948657961653874.post-75084654137124726422009-04-22T17:32:00.000-07:002009-04-22T20:01:53.150-07:00

A Fenian SongThe Queen's Own Regiment was their name;From fair Toronto town they cameTo put the Irish all to shame -The Queen's and Colonel Boker!What fury fills each loyal mind!No volunteer would stay behind.They flung their red rag to the wind -"Hurrah, my boys!" said Boker.Now helter skelter Ohio,See how they play that "heel and toe"!See how they run from their Irish foe -The Queen's and

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