Category Archives: Favourites

The Holy Ground

Fair thee well my lovely Dianah
A thousand times adieu
For we’re goin’ away from the Holy Ground
and the girls we all love true
We will sail the salt sea over
and we’ll return for shore
To see again the girls we love
and the Holy Ground once more
Fine girls you are!


You’re the girl I do adore
And still I live in the hopes to see
The Holy Ground once more
Fine girl you are!

Now the storm is raging
And we are far from shore
And the good old ship is tossing about
And the rigging is all tore
And the secret of my mind my love
You’re the girl I do adore
And still I live in hopes to see
The Holy Ground once more
Fine girl you are!

You’re the girl I do adore
And still I live in the hopes to see
The Holy Ground once more
Fine girl you are!

And soon the storm is over
And we are all well
We will go into a public house
and we’ll sit and drink our fill
We will drink strong ale and porter
and we’ll make the rafters roar
And when all of our money is all spent
We will go to sea once more
Fine girls you are!

You’re the girl I do adore
And still I live in the hopes to see
The Holy Ground once more
Fine girl you are!

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The Cliffs of Dooneen

You may travel far, far from your own native land,
Far away o’er the mountains, far away o’er the foam,
But of all the fine places that I’ve ever been
Sure there’s none can compare with the cliffs of Dooneen.


Take a view o’er the mountains, fine sights you’ll see there
You’ll see the high rocky mountains o’er the west coast of Clare
Oh the town of Kilkee and Kilrush can be seen
From the high rocky slopes round the cliffs of Dooneen.

It’s a nice place to be on a fine summer’s day
Watching all the wild flowers that ne’er do decay
Oh the hares and lofty pheasants are plain to be seen
Making homes for their young round the cliffs of Dooneen.
Fare thee well to Dooneen, fare thee well for a while

And to all the kind people I’m leaving behind
To the streams and the meadows where late I have been
And the high rocky slopes round the cliffs of Dooneen.

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The Enniskillen Dragoons (Version III) by Tommy Makem

Oh, our troop was made ready at the dawning of the day,
From lovely Enniskillen, they were marching us away;
They put us onaboard a ship to cross the raging main,
For to fight the bloody battle in the sunny land of Spain.
Fare thee well Enniskillen, fare thee well for awhile,
And all around the borders of Erin’s green isle;
And when the war is over, we’ll return in full bloom,
And you’ll all welcome home the Enniskillen Dragoons.
Oh, Spain it is a gallant land where wine and ale flow free,
And there’s lots of lovely women there to dandle on your knee;
And often in a tavern there, we’d make the rafters ring,
When every soldier in the house would raise lift glass and sing.


Fare thee well Enniskillen, fare thee well for awhile,
And all around the borders of Erin’s green isle;
And when the war is over, we’ll return in full bloom,
And you’ll all welcome home the Enniskillen Dragoons.

Well we fought for Ireland’s glory there and many a man did fall,
From musket and from bayonet and from thundering cannonball;
And many a foeman we laid low amid the battle throng,
As we prepared for action, you would often hear this song.

Fare thee well Enniskillen, fare thee well for awhile,
And all around the borders of Erin’s green isle;
And when the war is over, we’ll return in full bloom,
And you’ll all welcome home the Enniskillen Dragoons.

Well, now the fighting’s over, and for home we have set sail,
Our flag above this lofty ship is fluttering in the gale;
They’ve given us a pension, boys, of fourpence every day,
And when we reach Enniskillen, never more we’ll have to say.

Fare thee well Enniskillen, fare thee well for awhile,
And all around the borders of Erin’s green isle;
And when the war is over, we’ll return in full bloom,
And you’ll all welcome home the Enniskillen Dragoons.

Fare thee well Enniskillen, fare thee well for awhile,
And all around the borders of Erin’s green isle;
And when the war is over, we’ll return in full bloom,
And you’ll all welcome home the Enniskillen Dragoons.

There are at least three versions of this song, the first listed below(Enniskillen Dragoons 1) is that which has been recorded, the second (Enniskillen Dragoons 2) is most likely the original from which the popular version has come and the third (Enniskillen Dragoons 3), a version written and recorded by Tommy Makem.

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Finnegan’s Wake

Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin Street, a gentle Irishman mighty odd
He had a brogue both rich and sweet, an’ to rise in the world he carried a hod
You see he’d a sort of a tipplers way but the love for the liquor poor Tim was born
To help him on his way each day, he’d a drop of the craythur every morn


Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake

One morning Tim got rather full, his head felt heavy which made him shake
Fell from a ladder and he broke his skull, and they carried him home his corpse to wake
Rolled him up in a nice clean sheet, and laid him out upon the bed
A bottle of whiskey at his feet and a barrel of porter at his head

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake

His friends assembled at the wake, and Mrs Finnegan called for lunch
First she brought in tay and cake, then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch
Biddy O’Brien began to cry, “Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see,
Tim avourneen, why did you die?”, “Will ye hould your gob?” said Paddy McGee

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake

Then Maggie O’Connor took up the job, “Biddy” says she “you’re wrong, I’m sure”
Biddy gave her a belt in the gob and left her sprawling on the floor
Then the war did soon engage, t’was woman to woman and man to man
Shillelagh law was all the rage and a row and a ruction soon began

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake

Mickey Maloney ducked his head when a bucket of whiskey flew at him
It missed, and falling on the bed, the liquor scattered over Tim
Bedad he revives, see how he rises, Timothy rising from the bed
Saying “Whittle your whiskey around like blazes, t’underin’ Jaysus, do ye think I’m dead?”

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake

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She Moved Through the Fair

My young love said to me, my mother won´t mind
And my father won´t slight you for your lack of kine,
And she stepped away from me and this she did say,
It will not be long love ´til our wedding day.


She stepped away from me and she moved through the fair,
And fondly I watched her move here and move there,
Then she went her way homeward with one star awake,
As the swan in the evening moves over the lake.

The people were saying no two were e´er wed,
But one has a sorrow that never was said,
And I smiled as she passed with her goods and her gear,
And that was the last that I saw of my dear.

I dreamt it last night that my young love came in,
So softly she entered her feet made no din,
She came close beside me and this she did say,
It will not be long love ´til our wedding day.

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Twenty Men From Dublin Town by Arthur Griffith

Twenty men from Dublin Town,
Riding on the mountain side,
Fearless of the Saxon frown,
Twenty brothers true and tried.
Blood flows in the city streets,
There the green is lying low,
Here the emerald standard greets
Eyes alike of friend and foe.


Chorus:
Fly the city, brothers tried,
Join us on the mountain side;
Where we’ve England’s power defied
Twenty men from Dublin town.

Twenty men from Dublin town,
Full of love and full of hate
Oh! our chief, our Tone, is down,
Hand of God, avenge his fate.
Joy is where’er we meet
Redcoats on the mountain track
Ah! as deer they must be fleet
If they get to Dublin back.

Chorus:
Fly the city, brothers tried,
Join us on the mountain side;
Where we’ve England’s power defied
Twenty men from Dublin town.

Twenty men from Dublin town,
Every night around the fire
Brimming methers toss we down
To our Captain, Michael Dwyer.
Sláinte, Michael, brave and true,
Then there rings the wild ‘Hurrah!’
As we drink dear land to you,
Eire, sláinte geal go bráth.

Chorus:
Fly the city, brothers tried,
Join us on the mountain side;
Where we’ve England’s power defied
Twenty men from Dublin town.

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The Wearing of the Green

“O Paddy dear, and did ye hear the news that’s going round?
The shamrock is by law forbid to grow on Irish gound!
No more Saint Patrick’s Day we’ll keep, his colour can’t be seen
For there’s a cruel law against the Wearing of the Green.”


I met with Napper Tandy, and he took me by the hand,
And he said, “How’s poor old Ireland, and how does she stand?”
“She’s the most distressful country that ever yet was seen,
For they’re hanging men and women there for Wearing of the Green.”

“So if the colour we must wear be England’s cruel red
Let it remind us of the blood that Irishmen have shed;
And pull the shamrock from your hat, and trow it on the sod
But never fear, it will take root there, though underfoot ’tis trod.

When laws can stop the blades of grass from growing as they grow
And whem the leaves in summer time their colour dare not show,
Then I will change the colour too I wear in my caubeen;
But till that day, please God, I’ll stick to the Wearing of the Green.”

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Whack Fol the Diddle or God Bless England

I’ll sing you a song of peace and love,
Whack fol the diddle all the di do day.
To the land that reigns all lands above.
Whack fol the diddle all the di do day.


May peace and plenty be her share
Who kept our homes from want and care,
God bless Mother England is our prayer.
Whack fol the diddle all the di do day.

Whack fol the diddle all the di do day.
So we say, Hip Hooray!
Come and listen while we pray.
Whack fol the diddle all the di do day.

When we were savage, fierce and wild
She came like a mother to her child.
She gently raised us from the slime
Kept our hands from hellish crime,
And sent us to Heaven in her own good time.

Whack fol the diddle all the di do day.
So we say, Hip Hooray!
Come and listen while we pray.
Whack fol the diddle all the di do day.

Now our fathers oft were very bad boys.
Guns and pikes are dangerous toys.
From Bearna Baol to Bunker Hill
They made poor England weep her fill,
But ould Brittania loves us still!

Whack fol the diddle all the di do day.
So we say, Hip Hooray!
Come and listen while we pray.
Whack fol the diddle all the di do day.

Now Irishmen, forget the past!
And think of the time that’s coming fast.
When we shall all be civilized,
Neat and clean and well-advised.
And won’t Mother England be surprised?

Whack fol the diddle all the di do day.
So we say, Hip Hooray!
Come and listen while we pray.
Whack fol the diddle all the di do day.

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The Band Played Waltzing Matilda

When I was a young man I carried me pack
And I lived the free life of the rover
From the Murray’s green basin to the dusty outback
I waltzed my Matilda all over
Then in 1915 my country said: Son,
It’s time to stop rambling, there’s work to be done
So they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun
And they sent me away to the war


And the band played Waltzing Matilda
When the ship pulled away from the quay
And amid all the tears, flag waving and cheers
We sailed off for Gallipoli

It well I remember that terrible day
When our blood stained the sand and the water
And how in that hell they call Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter
Johnny Turk, he was ready, he primed himself well
He rained us with bullets, and he showered us with shell
And in five minutes flat, we were all blown to hell
He nearly blew us back home to Australia

And the band played Waltzing Matilda
When we stopped to bury our slain
Well we buried ours and the Turks buried theirs
Then it started all over again

Oh those that were living just tried to survive
In that mad world of blood, death and fire
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
While around me the corpses piled higher
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head
And when I awoke in me hospital bed
And saw what it had done, I wished I was dead
I never knew there was worse things than dying

Oh no more I’ll go Waltzing Matilda
All around the green bush far and near
For to hump tent and pegs, a man needs both legs
No more waltzing Matilda for me

They collected the wounded, the crippled, the maimed
And they shipped us back home to Australia
The armless, the legless, the blind and the insane
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla
And when the ship pulled into Circular Quay
I looked at the place where me legs used to be
And thank Christ there was no one there waiting for me
To grieve and to mourn and to pity

And the Band played Waltzing Matilda
When they carried us down the gangway
Oh nobody cheered, they just stood there and stared
Then they turned all their faces away

Now every April I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me
I see my old comrades, how proudly they march
Renewing their dreams of past glories
I see the old men all tired, stiff and worn
Those weary old heroes of a forgotten war
And the young people ask “What are they marching for?”
And I ask myself the same question

And the band plays Waltzing Matilda
And the old men still answer the call
But year after year, their numbers get fewer
Someday, no one will march there at all

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
Who’ll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me?
And their ghosts may be heard as they march by the billabong
So who’ll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me?

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Dear Old Donegal by Steve Graham

It seems like only yesterday
I sailed from out of Cork.
A wanderer from old Erin’s isle,
I landed in New York.
There wasn’t a soul to greet me there,
A stranger on your shore,
But Irish luck was with me here,
And riches came galore.
And now that I’m going back again
To dear old Erin’s isle,
My friends will meet me on the pier
And greet me with a smile.
Their faces, sure, I’ve almost forgot,
I’ve been so long away,
But me mother will introduce them all
And this to me will say


Shake hands with your Uncle Mike, me boy,
And here’s your sister, Kate.
And sure there’s the girl you used to swing
Down by the garden gate.
Shake hands with all your neighbours,
And kiss the colleens all
You’re as welcome as the flowers in May
To dear old Donegal.

They’ll line the roads for miles and miles
They’ll come from near and far.
And they’ll give a party when I go home,
With Irish jauntin’ cars.
The spirits’ll flow and we’ll be gay,
We’ll fill your hearts with joy.
And the piper will play an Irish reel
To greet the Yankee boy.
We’ll dance and sing the whole night long,
Such fun as never was seen.
The lads’ll be decked in corduroy,
The colleens wearin’ green.
There’ll be thousands there that I never saw,
I’ve been so long away,
But me mother will introduce them all
And this to me will say:

Shake hands with your Uncle Mike, me boy,
And here’s your sister, Kate.
And sure there’s the girl you used to swing
Down by the garden gate.
Shake hands with all your neighbours,
And kiss the colleens all
You’re as welcome as the flowers in May
To dear old Donegal.

Meet Branigan, Fannigan, Milligan, Gilligan,
Duffy, McCuffy, Malachy, Mahone,
Rafferty, Lafferty, Donnelly, Connelly,
Dooley, O’Hooley, Muldowney, Malone,
Madigan, Cadigan, Lanihan, Flanihan,
Fagan, O’Hagan, O’Hoolihan, Flynn,
Shanihan, Manihan, Fogarty, Hogarty,
Kelly, O’Kelly, McGuinness, McGuinn.

Shake hands with your Uncle Mike, me boy,
And here’s your sister, Kate.
And sure there’s the girl you used to swing
Down by the garden gate.
Shake hands with all your neighbours,
And kiss the colleens all
You’re as welcome as the flowers in May
To dear old Donegal.

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