Clare Glens

At the foot of Slieve Kilmarta it is there the Clare glens lie
Where the lark in the morning soars to an azure sky
And there through the pine trees the summer breezes blow
And the sun smiles on Clare glens where the wildflowers grow

It is there I go rambling down by the waterfall
Where the notes of the linnet mingle with the cuckoo's call
And rest in the cool shade of the oak trees bending low
A peaceful scene is Clare glens where the wildflowers grow

The scent of wild woodbine is wafted on the breeze
And from high in the sycamore comes the droning of the bees
The mayfly skims the water, the swallow is gliding low
And the brown trout leap in Clare glens where the wildflowers grow

The owl on silent wings goes to find its prey unseen
And the fox's cry is lonely in the fields around Scrageen
It's time I went homeward to the valley down below
And sleep and dream of Clare glens where the wildflowers grow

The Mulkear River

I'll sing to you of a lovely place, it is where I long to be
It is there I spent my youthful time in merriment and glee
It's colleens fair I do declare and it's with them I will go
To take a ramble down the banks where the Mulkear River flows

The hill of D(?) and F(?), amongst you I'd remain
Where I could pass my time away round lovely Pallas Grean
Fond memories often bring me back to the times long long ago
When I used to ramble down the banks where the Mulkear River flows

It's well I do remember too when in my youth and bloom
I hunted on the mountainside by Cappagh MŪr and Doon
By Carraigbeag and Castletown, places you all well know
And (?) muddy banks where the Mulkear River flows

And now tonight, my comrades bright, I will bid you all adieu
And as I finish these last few lines, I'll quickly tell to you
Train up your youth to hunt and shout, with gun and dog to go
To hunt the game that still remain where the Mulkear River flows

The May Morning Dew

How pleasant in winter to sit by the hob
And listen to the bark and the howl of the dog
Or in summer to wander the wide valleys through
And to pluck the wildflowers in the May morning dew

Summer is coming, O summer is here
With the leaves all so green and the skies blue and clear
And the birds they are singing their fond notes so true
And the flowers they are springing in the May morning dew

The house I was reared in, it's a stone on a stone
And all round the garden the weeds have all grown
And all the kind neighbors that ever I knew
Like the red rose they've withered in the May morning dew

God be with my dear parents, they're both dead and gone
And likewise my brothers, young Michael and John
As they tripped through the heather the wild hare to pursue
And their joys they were mingled in the May morning dew

I went up to the hilltop to view all around
The place seemed deserted, no one to be found
I cursed the cruel tyrant that bade me adieu
And my tears fell like raindrops in the May morning dew

The Rose of Keeper Hill

I've travelled Ireland over from Donegal to Cork
And through the States I have wandered from Chicago to New York
I have seen the world's beauties, their bright eyes haunting still
But they can't compare with that maid so fair, the Rose of Keeper Hill

To see her on a Sunday and she going down to Mass
The crowds stand in amazement to let this fair one pass
It is no shame to tell her name, she's Irish to the core
She's lovely Bridget Mackie, bright star of Lackamore

She can play on the melodeon, the violin and guitar
And dance a Ballycommon set, she is the perfect star
She's loved by all the boys around, from Thurles to Loghill
That lovely dark-eyed beauty, the Rose of Keeper Hill

The Limerick girls are beautiful, their equals are but few
There are lovely maids in Neenagh town, Roscrea and sweet Portr(?)
But they're only shadows on a wall, like pictures on a (?)
Compared to Erin's fairest maid, the Rose of Keeper Hill

She's gentle, kind and beautiful, her manners keen and grand
You wouldn't find her equals if you travelled Ireland
Her voice is soft and beautiful, twould make your heart stand still
To hear her sing, the c™ileann, this lovely Rose of Keeper Hill

So goodbye, my lovely Bridget, I now must be away
My rambling ways have conquered me and I must cross the sea
But when I'm on board the liner I'll sit down and cry my fill
For you, my lovely, Bridget, lovely Rose of Keeper Hill

Gaelic Song

(?)

Back to recording page

Back to Home Page