Carraig Rua

You may sing your fine songs and your sad stories tell
Of places and scenes that you all know quite well
But I'll tell you now of a place that I know
It is called Carraig Rua where the wild flowers grow

It is often I have walked it and looked all around
At places where history is sure to be found
I look towards the west and I see Ferns town
With its old church and abbey, their ruins are now down

I look in amazement at MacMurragh's domain
With its castle still standing where his blood once did stain
Where Oliver Cromwell his army did band
For they murdered and plundered and ravaged our land

I can see Boolavogue and bold Shelmalier
Where Father John Murphy with his life held so dear
I look down on The Harrow where brave men did abide
It was there that the yeomen in '98 died

And now as I sit here all alone for to rest
I can hear the birds singing in the trees as they nest
Such peace and contentment is now to be found
May those men who achieved it in heaven be crowned

The Blackbird of Sweet Avondale

By the bright bay of Dublin while carelessly strolling
I sat myself down by a clear crystal stream
Reclined on the beach where the wild waves were rolling
In sorrow condoling I spied a fair maid

Her robes changed to mourning that once were so glorious
I stood in amazement to hear her sad tale
Her heartstrings burst forth in wild accents deploring
Sayin, Where is my blackbird of sweet Avondale?

To the fair counties Meath, Kerry, Cork and Tipperary
The notes of his country my blackbird will sing
But woe to the hour when we'll part light and airy
He flew from my arms in Dublin to Queens

Now the fowlers waylay him in hopes to enchain him
While I here in sorrow his absence bewail
It grieves me to think that the walls of Kilmainham
Surrounds my poor blackbird of sweet Avondale

Now the cold prison dungeon is no habitation
For one for his country who fought loyal and true
Come grant him his pardon without hesitation
For remember he fought hard for freedom and you

Now the birds in the forest for me have no charm
Not even the voice of the sweet nightingale
Her notes full of charm fills my heart with alarm
Since I lost my poor blackbird of sweet Avondale

Emigration Song

On the 13th day of April our gallant ship set sail
With 65 brave Irish lads, true sons of Grainne Bhail
They landed safely in New York on the 19th day of May
To meet their friends and relatives all in the U.S.A.

Well as one of these brave Irish lads was goin down Charles Street
One of the brave Yankee boys they happened for to meet
He brought them to an alehouse where he ordered drinks galore
I'm sure such entertainment they never saw before

Now one of the brave Yankee boys was dressed without delay
And he said, My lads you must prepare with us to come away
This is our esteemed officer who have listed you complete
So do not sigh for relatives, we can no longer wait

Now the Irish lads jumped to their feet and made those Yankees frown
And with every blow that they did strike they brought those Yankees down
The officer and all his men they left in crimson gore
And proved themselves Saint Patrick's sons throughout Columbia's shore

Now a Frenchman of great fame had seen what the Yankees tried to do
He said, I will protect you from this Yankee's crimson crew
I'll take you to Ohio where I have authority
And I'll keep you in employment till you leave this countrie

And now to stop and finish and for this young man who showed us light
We offer a fervent prayer both morning, noon and night
In honor of the Lord above to let you go your way
And keep you from all danger when you go to the U.S.A.

The Green Linnet

Curiosity led a young native of Erin
To view the gay banks of the Rhine
Where an empress he saw and the clothes she was wearing
All over with diamonds did shine
No goddess in splendor was ever yet seen
To equal this fair maid so mild and serene
In soft murmurs she cried, O my linnet so green
Sweet Boney, will I neer see you more?

Now the crowned heads of Europe they were in great splendor
And they swore they would have you submit
But the goddess of freedom soon made them surrender
And they lowered their standards to your wit
Old Frederick's colors to France you did bring
Their offsprings found shelter underneath your wing
And now you are gone and you neer will return
Sweet Boney, will I neer see you more?

What numbers of men they were eager to slay you
But their malice you viewed with a smile
Their gold throughout Europe they were bound to betray you
And they joined the Malemukes on the Nile
Like ravenous vultures their wild passions did burn
There orphans they slew and caused widows to mourn
But my linnet is gone and he neer will return
Sweet Boney, will I neer see you more?

Now the cold frosty Alps you freely passed over
Which nature had placed in your way
At Melina, Bologna around you did hover
And all Paris rejoiced the next day
It grieves me the hardships you did undergo
The mountains you traversed all covered with snow
But here in Vienna you sweetly did sing
Sweet Boney, will I neer see you more?

I have searched all the deserts of wild Abyssinia
And can yet find no cure for my pain
I will go and inquire at the isle of Saint Helena
But soft murmurs whisper sadly, Tis vain
Come tell me, critics, come tell me in time
What nations I'll rove my green linnet to find
Was he slain at Waterloo, in Spain or on the Rhine?
No, he's dead on Saint Helena's bleak shore

The Soldier and the Maid

As I went a-walking one evening in May
By Flora's gay mantels the fields decorate
I carelessly wandered not knowin where to go
By the side of a fountain that lies near Glencoe

It was there where the pride of Mount Ida had won
There approached me a lassie as bright as the sun
The ribbons and tartans around her did flow
That once graced MacDonald, the pride of Glencoe

I thought she was enchanted, so to her I drew nigh
The red rose and the lily from her cheeks seemed to shine
I asked her her name and how far she would go
She answered me kindly, I am bound for Glencoe

Young man, she made answer, your suit I disdain
I once loved a sweetheart, MacDonald by name
He went to the war about ten years ago
And maid I'll remain till he comes back to Glencoe

MacDonald's true valor, when tried in the field
Like his gallant ancestors disdaining to yield
The French and the Spaniards he'll soon overthrow
And in splendor return to my arms in Glencoe

Perhaps this MacDonald regards not your name
And might place his affections on some foreign dame
And may have forgotten, for all that you know
The lovely young lassie here left in Glencoe

MacDonald from his promise will never depart
For love, truth and honor I found in his heart
And if ever I'll see him still single I'll go
And I'll mourn for MacDonald, my pride of Glencoe

Cheer up, dearest Flora, your sorrows are oer
While life does remain we will never part more
Though the storm of war at a distance may blow
In peace and contentment we'll reside at Glencoe

Now finding her constant he pulled out a glove
He gave her at parting as a token of love
She fell into his arms as the tears they did flow
Sayin, Are you MacDonald, the pride of Glencoe?

The Home I Left Behind

I was born on the hillside by yonder flowing stream
It is deeply pictured in my mind, fond memories, thoughts and dreams
It often nearly breaks my heart and leaves me troubled mind
When I think of dear old Ireland and the home I left behind

It was early next morning with a sad and broken heart
I stood on the hearth of my father's floor saying, It's sad we both must part
With my mother's arms around my neck as the tears her eyes did blind
And I tore out from her arms in the home I left behind

We travelled through old Ireland till we came to Queenstown Quay
Twas there I saw a steamer bound for Americay
Twas there I saw a steamer bound for some foreign clime
And from there I took my last fond look at the home I left behind

But since I've landed in New York strange faces I have known
But there's none so dear or so near to me as the ones I left at home
And when I've lots of shining gold and a girl to make my bride
I will roll her in my arms in the home I left behind

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