Song Lyrics


There once was a very, very holy Vicar
who was walking along the street one day
When he heard a little voice saying excuse me Vicar
Oh help me Vicar the voice did say

The Vicar looked about but all he could see
Was a tiny little frog sitting on the ground
Oh my dear little froggie did you speak to me
Was it you who spoke when I heard that sound

Oh yes said the frog oh help me Vicar
Cause I am not a frog you see
I'm a choirboy really but a very wicked fairy
Put a nasty spell on me

The only way that I can be saved
From this wicked spell the little frog said
Is for someone to take me and put in a place
Where a very holy man has laid his head

So the Vicar took him and put him on his pillow
And there he lay till the break of day
The very next morning a blessed miracle
The spell was lifted I'm glad to say

For there was a choirboy in bed with the Vicar
And I hope you think this all makes sense
Because my Lord and members of the Jury
Rests the case for the defense

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(Christy Moore)

About the time I saw the light of morning, a comradeship of heroes was laid
From every corner of the world came sailing the Fifth International Brigade

They came to stand beside the Spanish people to try and stem the rising fascist tide
Franco's allies were the powerful and wealthy; Frank Ryan's men came from the other side

Even the olives were bleeding as the battle for Madrid it thundered on
Truth and love against the force of evil, brotherhood against the fascist clan

Viva La Quince Brigada, No Paseran the pledge that made them fight
Adelante was the cry around the hillside, let us all remember them tonight

Bob Hillard was a Church of Ireland pastor, for Killarney across the Pyrenees he came
From Derry came a brave young Christian Brother, side by side they fought and died in Spain

Tommy Woods aged seventeen died in Cordoba, with Na Fianna he learned to hold his gun
From Dublin to the Viva del Rio, where he fought and died beneath the Spanish sun

Many Irishmen heard the call of Franco, join Hitler and Mussolini too
Propaganda from the pulpit and newspaper helped O'Duffy to enlist his crew


The word came from Maynooth support the Nazi's, the men of cloth failed yet again
When Bishops blessed the Blueshirts in Dun Laoghaire as they sailed beneath the swastika to Spain

This song is a tribute to Frank Ryan, Kit Conway and Dinny Cody too
Peter Daly, Charlie Regan and Hugh Bonner, though many died I can but name a few

Danny Doyle, Blasser-Brown and Charlie Donnelly, Liam Tumilson and Jim Straney from the falls
Jack Nalty, Tommy Patton and Frank Conroy, Jim Foley, Tony Fox and Dick O'Neill


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(Jim MacLean)

They hung Wallace high of the gallows and cut down ere he was dead
And as he choked the Queen jeered for daring to cross English Ted
His heart and his liver were savaged as her majesty watched the glad scene
His head was cut off, he was quartered ’twas an afternoon fit for a Queen

They murdered the Wallace for treason
His body has long since decayed
But no English crown can destroy him
For Wallace is with us today, Aye Wallace is with us today

He took up his sword against England; the cowardly Sassenach ran
He beat them at Falkirk and Stirling and burned them like rats from our land
King Edward of England was raging that Scotland was free once again
The Scottish Republican Army had wiped out his best fighting men

William the Wallace fought bravely no Englishman could him defeat
But English gold brought Scottish quislings and he was betrayed by Mentieth
With a crown made of thorns he was tortured for setting his own country free
How am I a traitor cried Wallace when England is foreign to me

In Edinburgh, Stirling and Falkirk from Inverness to Elderslie
His spirit is calling for justice and commands to set ourselves free
So when once again we do battle let the broadswords and English bows hum
With no fear of betrayal to the Saxon let them come, let them come, let them come

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(Eric Bogle)

"Good evening ' I'm Ross Symons, with the news from A.B.C.
A record profit's been announced by the Board of B.H.P.
In the second cricket test in Perth, the Aussies face defeat
Whilst the drought in Western New South Wales means dearer cuts of meat
And our special correspondent in Saigon
Says three Australian soldiers have died in Vietnam

The special correspondent sat in a Saigon bar
With the help of Johnny Walker he pushed away the war
And questions with no answers that had rattled round his head
Had lost their urgent clarity and were faded round the edge
Thought tomorrow they'd again be sharp and clear
Tonight they had been lost amongst the bar girls and the beer

Ask a silly question, like why the heel we're here
Learning how to live with death, suffering and fear,
War's a game for soldiers; it's not for men like you.
Is there something that you have to find, or something you must prove
Or are you hooked upon the adrenaline
That living on the edge of dying brings

But here you are in Vietnam; you're a long way from home
Doing what you're paid to do, the best way that you can
Objectively you watch the war, never taking sides
And what you feel, what you really feel, is hidden deep inside
You're not being paid to moralize,
And anyway, a can lose his reason asking why.

And if you ever get back home, you'll never be the same
The man that was before Vietnam can never be again,
But in ten years when you look back to weigh and count the cost,
Perhaps you'll find that Vietnam gave you back more than you lost
And from it, if you learn nothing else,
Perhaps you may get to know yourself.

Roll up, roll up and see the show, T.V. soldiers in a row
Hear them laugh, hear them cry, watch them run, see the die
It's not in color, but that's all right
War's better viewed in black and white
White for us and black for them
With no gray shadows in between.

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(Ian McCalman)

There's a war outside I can hear the distant guns tonight,
There's a war outside
And I don't know whether to run or fight,
If I open this door I may be deafened by the cannon's roar,
There's a war outside tonight.

There's a child outside I can hear her crying and she's so alone,
There's a child outside
The first refugee is the last one home,
But if I open this door they might flood in from that foreign shore,

There's a child outside tonight. Everything's OK, everything's fine,
Just close your doors until the end of time,
Satellite TV; turn off the news, nothing but bad news…bad news,
And no one wants to hear another bad news blues.
There's a war outside

We don't need to know who's right or wrong, there's a war outside
The sirens sing their warning song,
Tired and hungry in the hand-out line, the wrong place at the wrong time,
There's a war outside tonight.
There's a war outside and the guns are closer than they were last night,
There's a war outside
And I don't know whether to run or fight,
If I open this door I may be deafened by the cannon's roar,
There's a war outside tonight.

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We're a' met together here tae sir an' tae crack.
Wi' oor glasses in oor hands, an' oor wark upon oor back;
For there's no' a trade among them a' can either mend or mak',
Gin it wasna for the wark o' the weavers.                  

If it wasna for the weavers what wad they do?     
They wadna hae claith mads oor o' oor woo'.
They wadna hae a coar neither black nor blue,
Gin it wasna for the wark o' the weavers.

There's some folk independent o' ither tradesmen's wark
For women need nae barber an' dykers need nae clerk;
But there's no ane o' them but needs a coat an' a sark
Na, they canna want the wark o' the weavers.

There's smiths an' there's wrights and there's mason cheils an' a' There's doctors an' there's meenisters an' them that live by law An' oor freens that bide oot ower the sea in Sooth America An' they a' need the wark o' the weavers.

Oor sodgers an' oor sailors, od, we mak' tham a' bauld For gin they hadna claes, faith, they couldna fecht for cauld, The high an' low, the rich an' puir - a ’body young an' auld, They a' need the wark o' the weavers.

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For fun and diversion we have met together, I tell you from Waterford hither we came
To cross the big in dark stormy weather, our pockets were light and our hearts were the same
Sad at leaving old Ireland we're once more on dry land by the road side a tavern I chanced for to spy
And as I was melting, me pockets I felt in for the price of a drink I was mortally dry

For we are the boys with such fun and such eloquence
Drinking and dancing and all other joys
For ructions destruction's diversion and devilment
Who's to compare with the Waterford boys

In tavern I rolled, in the landlord he strolled, Good morrow says he and says I if you please
Will you give a bed and then bring me some bread and a bottle of porter and a small piece of cheese
My bread and cheese ended, I then condescended to take my repose, sure I bad him good night
Then under the clothes, I was trying to doze, first I stuck in me toes and then popped out the light

Well I wasn't long sleeping, when heard creeping and gnawing and chawing around the bed post
My breath I suspended, but the noise never ended, thinks I you've damned oul bull's claws for a ghost
Now to make myself easy, for I felt rather lazy, then over me head I again pulled the clothes
Sure a Moses what's that, sure a great big Jack rat, with one leap from the floor jumped right up to me nose


Well I reached for a hob tail and made up a bob tail and rassled with rats till the clear light of day
When the landlord came in and he said with a grin, for your supper and bed you've five shillings to pay
Five shillings for that, now don't be disgracing yourself, says I to the rogue if you please
When I can't sleep with the rats, you've the devil's own face on you to charge me five shillings for dry bread and cheese

Oh the landlord went raring and lepping tearing, he jumped through the window and kicked in the door
When he could go no further, he roared mill'ya murder these rats they are eatin' up be the score
Sure they sleep in me stable, they eat at me tables, they wrestle me dogs and they've killed all me cats
Throthin' says I you give me those five shillings and I'll show you the way to get rid of those rats

I'm willing says well invite them to supper on dry bread and cheese they'll be forth and be sure
Never mind if they're willin', just charge them five shillings and devil the rat will you ever see more


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Sez your oul' one to my oul' one, "Will you come to the Waxie's Dargle?"
Sez my oul' one to your oul' one, "I haven't got a farthing."
I went down to Monto town to see young Gil McArdle
But he wouldn't lend me half a crown for to go to the Waxie's Dargle

What do you have, I'll have a pint, I'll have a pint with you, sir
And if one of yez doesn't order soon, you'll be thrown out of the boozer

Sez your oul' one to my oul' one, "Will you go to the Galway Races?"
Sez my oul' one to your oul' one, "I'll hock the oul' man's braces."
I went up to Capel Street to the Jew man money lender
But he would give me a couple bob for the oul' man's red suspenders


Sez your oul' one to my oul' one, "We've got no beef nor mutton."
Sez my oul' one to your oul' one, "I'll tell you where you'll get it for nothin'."
Here's a nice piece of advice I got from an old fish monger
When the food is scarce and you see the hearse, you know you died of hunger


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My name it is Robert, they call me Bob Pittman; I sail in the Ino with Skipper Tim Brown.
I'm bound to have Dolly or Biddy or Molly as soon as I'm able to plank the cash down.

We'll rant and we'll roar like true Newfoundlanders, we'll rant and we'll roar on deck and below
Until we see bottom inside the two sunkers, when straight through the Channel to Toslow we'll go.

I'm a son of a sea-cook, and a cook in a trader; I can dance, I can sing, I can reef the main boom;
I can handle a jigger, and cuts a big figure whenever I gets in a boat's standing room.

If the voyage is good, then this fall I will do it; I wants two pound ten for a ring and the priest,
A couple o' dollars for clean shirt and collars, and a handful o' coppers to make up a feast.

There's plump little Polly, her name is Goldsworthy, there's John Coady's Kitty, and Mary Tibbo;
There's Clara from Bruley, and young Martha Foley, but the nicest of all is my girl in Toslow.

Farewell and adieu to ye fair ones of Valen, farewell and adieu to ye girls in the Cove;
I'm bound to the westward, to the wall with the hole in; I'll take her from Toslow the wild world to rove.

Farewell and adieu to ye girls of St. Kyran's, Of Paradise and Presque, Big and Little Bona,
I'm bound unto Toslow to marry sweet Biddy, and if I don't do so, I'm afraid of her da.

I've bought me a house from Katherine Davis, a twenty-pound bed from Jimmy McGrath;
I'll get me a settle, a pot and a kettle; then I'll be ready for Biddy - hurrah!

O, I brought in the Ino this spring from the city, some rings and gold brooches for the girls in the Bay;
I bought me a case-pipe - they call it a meerschaum --It melted like butter upon a hot day.

I went to a dance one night at Fox Harbour; there were plenty of girls, so nice as you'd wish;
There was one pretty maiden a-chawin' of frankgum just like a young kitten a-gnawing fresh fish.

Then here is a health to the girls of Fox Harbour, of Oderin and Presque, Crabbes Hole and
Now let ye be jolly, don't be melancholy, I can't marry all, or in chokey I'd be.

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"O 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 seen
For there's a cruel law against the wearin' o' the Green."

It's the wearin' of the Green, the wearin' of the Green
Oh, they're hangin' men and women for the wearin' of the Green

I met with Napper Tandy, and he took me by the hand,
And he said, "How's poor ould 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 the wearin' o' the Green."

It's the wearin' of the Green, the wearin' of the Green
Oh, they're hangin' men and women for the wearin' of the Green

"So if the color 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 throw it on the sod
But never fear, 'twill take root there, though underfoot 'tis trod.

It's the wearin' of the Green, the wearin' of the Green
Oh, they're hangin' men and women for the wearin' of the Green

 When laws can stop the blades of grass from growin' as they grow
 And when the leaves in summer-time their color dare not show,
 Then I will change the color too I wear in my caubeen;
 But till that day, please God, I'll stick to the Wearin' o' the Green."

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(Matt McGinn)

Oh, the wee Kirkcudbright Centipede, oh, she was very sweet
She was very proud of every one of her hundred feet
Early every morning, her neighbours came to glance
She always entertained them with a beautiful little dance.

As leg number 94 gave 95 a shunt
Legs number 1 and 2 were twisted out in front
Legs number 9 and 10 came wriggling up the side
73 and 74 were doing the Palais glide.

Now her neighbour, Jenny Longlegs, with jealousy was mad
She went out and bought herself a pencil and a pad
She came to look one morning, she made a careful note
Of every step the centipede made and this is what she wrote:


Now with her exact notations, little Jenny Longlegs tried
To dance just like the centipede, she failed and nearly cried
She grabbed hold of the centipede, and said, "Now have a look,
Show me how to do this dance I've written in my book."

The centipede said, "Do I do that?" tried to demonstrate
She hadn't thought it out before, and didn't do too great
Her hundred feet got twisted and she wound up in a tangle
She fractured 14 kneecaps, 7 shinbones and an ankle.

As legs number 1 and 2 were tied with 3 and 4
Legs number 5 and 6 were cancelled on the floor
Leg number 17 was attacked by number 10
98 and 99 will never dance again.

Oh, the wee Kirkcudbright Centipede she suffered in terrible pain
And all the bugs were very surprised the day she danced again
And now she tells her neighbours, anyone who comes to see,
"Never try an explanation of what comes naturally!"

As leg number 94 gave 95 a shunt
Legs number 1 and 2 were twisted out in front
Legs number 9 and 10 came wriggling up the side
73 and 74 were doing the Palais glide.

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(Trad / Johnny McAvoy)

The Dean o' Westminster was a powerful man
He held a' the strings o' the State in his hand
But wi' a' his great business it flustered him nane
When some rogues ran away wi' his wee magic stane
Wi' a too-ra-li-oo-ra-li-oo-ra-li-ay

The Stane had great powers that could dae sic a thing
That withoot it it seemed we'd be wantin' a king
So he sent for the polis and made this decree
Go hunt oot the Stone and return it tae me
Wi' a too-ra-li-oo-ra-li-oo-ra-li-ay

So the polis went beetlin' away up tae the North
They hunted the Clyde and they hunted the Forth
But the wild folk up yonder just kidded them a'
For they didnae believe it was magic at a'
Wi' a too-ra-li-oo-ra-li-oo-ra-li-ay

Noo the Provost o' Glesca, Sir Victor by name
Wis awfy put oot when he heard o' the Stane
So he offered the statues that stan' in George Square
That the High Church's masons might mak' a few mair
Wi' a too-ra-li-oo-ra-li-oo-ra-li-ay

When the Dean o' Westminster wi' this was acquaint
He sent for Sir Victor and made him a saint
But it's no good you sending your statues down heah
Said the Dean, But it gives me a jolly good ideah
Wi' a too-ra-li-oo-ra-li-oo-ra-li-ay

So they quarried a stane o' the very same stuff
And they dressed it all up till it looked like enough
Then he sent for the press and announced that the Stane
Had been found and returned tae Westminster again
Wi' a too-ra-li-oo-ra-li-oo-ra-li-ay

When the Rievers found out what Westminster had done
They went aboot diggin' up stanes by the ton
For each one they finished they entered the claim
That this is the true and original stane
Wi' a too-ra-li-oo-ra-li-oo-ra-li-ay

But the cream o' the joke still remains tae be telt
For the bloke that wis turnin' them aff on the belt
At the peak o' production was so sorely pressed
That the real yin got bunged in alang wi' the rest
Wi' a too-ra-li-oo-ra-li-oo-ra-li-ay

So if ever ye cam' on a stane wi' a ring
Just sit yersel' doon and proclaim yersel' king
There's nane will be able tae challenge yer claim
That ye've crooned yersel' King on the Destiny Stane
Wi' a too-ra-li-oo-ra-li-oo-ra-li-ay

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