As I went down to Turra market,
Turra market for to fee
I fell in with a market farmer,
The barnyards of Delgaty

Linten addie toorin addie,
Linten addie toorin ee
Linten lowrin lowrin lowrin,
The barnyards of Delgaty

He promised me the finest horse
That e’er I set my eyes upon
When I got to the barnyards,
T here was nothing there but skin and bone

As I went down to church on Sunday,
Many’s the bonnie lass I see
Sitting by her mothers side,
Winkin’ over the pews at me.

Now, I can drink and not get drunken,
I can fight and not be slain
I can court with another mans lass
And I’ll be welcome to me ain

Now my candle is burnt oot,
My snotter’s fairly on the wane
Fare ye well ye barnyards,
You’ll not see me here again.

Chords: KEY G

verse/chorus:

Background: A Scottish bothy ballad. The bothy is the shed where the plowman slept. These plowmen would go to special fairs to find work. They didn’t always have the best working conditions. This song tells of the struggles and dreams of a Scottish farm worker in Delgaty located in Aberdeenshire.

words and music Robert Burns

Ye Jacobites by name give an ear, give an ear
Ye Jacobites by name give an ear
Ye Jacobites by name your faults I will proclaim
Your doctrines I must blame, you shall hear.

What is right and what is wrong by the law, by the law
What is right and what is wrong by the law
What is right and what is wrong, a short sword and a long
A weak arm and a strong for to draw.

What makes heroic strife famed afar, famed afar?
What makes heroic strife famed afar?
What makes heroic strife, to whet the assassin’s knife
Or hunt a parent’s life with bloody war.

Then leave your schemes alone in the state, in the state
Then leave your schemes alone in the state
Then leave your schemes alone, adore the rising sun
And leave a man alone to his fate.

Then leave your schemes alone, adore the rising sun
And leave a man alone to his fate…
And leave a man alone to his fate.

Chords: KEY Gm

verse/chorus:

Background: Song about the Jacobite Revolution of 1746

words and music by Roy Williamson

O flower of Scotland when will we see your likes again
That fought and died for your wee bit hill and glen

And stood against them Proud Edward’s army
And sent him homeward to think again

The hills are bare now and autumn leaves lie thick and still
O’er land that is lost now Which those so dearly held

Those days are passed now And in the past they must remain
But we can still rise now And be the nation again

The hills are bare now And autumn leaves lie vacant still
O’er land that is lost now Which those so dearly held

O Flower of Scotland When will we see your like again
That fought and died for Your wee bit hill and glen

Chords: KEY F

verse:
F F C F
Bb F C C

chorus:
C F Bb F
Bb F Eb F

Background: Flower of Scotland is the unofficial Scottish national anthem that I first heard performed by The Corries.

words by J.K. Casey, music Turlough O’Carolan

And come tell me Sean O’Farrell tell me why you hurry so
Husha buachaill hush and listen and his cheeks were all a glow
I bare orders from the captain get you ready quick and soon
For the pikes must be together by the rising of the moon

By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon
For the pikes must be together by the rising of the moon

And come tell me Sean O’Farrell where the gath’rin is to be
At the old spot by the river quite well known to you and me
One more word for signal token whistle out the marchin’ tune
With your pike upon your shoulder by the rising of the moon

By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon
With your pike upon your shoulder by the rising of the moon

Out from many a mud wall cabin eyes were watching through the night
Many a manly heart was beating for the blessed warning light
Murmurs rang along the valleys to the banshees lonely croon
And a thousand pikes were flashing by the rising of the moon

By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon
And a thousand pikes were flashing by the rising of the moon

All along that singing river that black mass of men was seen
High above their shining weapons flew their own beloved green
Death to every foe and traitor! Whistle out the marching tune
And hurrah, me boys, for freedom, ’tis the rising of the moon

‘Tis the rising of the moon, ’tis the rising of the moon
And hurrah, me boys, for freedom, ’tis the rising of the moon

Chords: KEY C

verse:
C Dm
F G
C Dm
F G

chorus:
Dm C
F C F-G7-C

Background

This song relates to the Rebellion of 1798. The air is an O’carolan melody also known as “Wearing Of The Green” and the lyrics were written by J. K. Casey (1846 – 1870) a Fenian from Mullingar.

words Frederick Weatherly and music traditional

Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer’s gone, and all the flowers are dying
’tis you, ’tis you must go and I must bide.

But come you back when summer’s in the meadow
Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow
’tis I’ll be there in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.

And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You’ll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an “Ave” there for me.

And I shall hear, tho’ soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you’ll not fail to tell me that you love me
I simply sleep in peace until you come to me.

KEY C

verse:
C C C7 C7 F F
F F C Am Dm Dm-G
C C C7 C7 F F
F F C Dm G C-C7

chorus:
F F Dm-G G C-C7
F F Am-Dm G G-G7
C C Dm-G C G7
C F-G7 C

words and music traditional

In the merry month of May, From my home I started,
Left the girls of Tuam, Nearly broken hearted,
Saluted father dear, Kissed my darlin’ mother,
Drank a pint of beer, My grief and tears to smother,
Then off to reap the corn, And leave where I was born,
I cut a stout blackthorn, To banish ghost and goblin,
In a brand new pair of brogues, I rattled o’er the bogs,
And frightened all the dogs,On the rocky road to Dublin.

One, two, three, four five,
Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road
And all the ways to Dublin,
Whack-fol-lol-de-ra.

In Mullingar that night, I rested limbs so weary,
Started by daylight, Next mornin’ light and airy,
Took a drop of the pure, To keep my heart from sinkin’,
That’s an Irishman’s cure, Whene’er he’s on for drinking.
To see the lasses smile, Laughing all the while,
At my curious style, ‘Twould set your heart a-bubblin’.
They ax’d if I was hired, The wages I required,
Till I was almost tired, Of the rocky road to Dublin.

In Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pity,
To be so soon deprived, A view of that fine city.
Then I took a stroll, All among the quality,
My bundle it was stole, In a neat locality;
Something crossed my mind, Then I looked behind;
No bundle could I find, Upon my stick a wobblin’.
Enquirin’ for the rogue, They said my Connacht brogue,
Wasn’t much in vogue, On the rocky road to Dublin.

From there I got away, My spirits never failin’
Landed on the quay As the ship was sailin’;
Captain at me roared, Said that no room had he,
When I jumped aboard, A cabin found for Paddy,
Down among the pigs I played some funny rigs,
Danced some hearty jigs, The water round me bubblin’,
When off Holyhead, I wished myself was dead,
Or better far instead, On the rocky road to Dublin.

The boys of Liverpool, When we safely landed,
Called myself a fool; I could no longer stand it;
Blood began to boil, Temper I was losin’,
Poor ould Erin’s isle They began abusin’,
“Hurrah my soul,” sez I, My shillelagh I let fly;
Some Galway boys were by, Saw I was a hobble in,
Then with a loud hurray, They joined in the affray.
We quickly cleared the way, For the rocky road to Dublin.

Chords: KEY Dm

verse:
Dm C
Dm C
Dm C
Dm C
Dm F Dm F
Dm F Dm
Dm F Dm F
Dm C

chorus: C Dm
Dm
Dm
C
Dm

words and music traditional

There was a wild colonial boy,
Jack Duggan was his name
He was born and raised in Ireland,
in a place called Castlemaine
He was his father’s only son,
his mother’s pride and joy
And dearly did his parents love
the wild colonial boy

At the early age of sixteen years,
he left his native home
And to Australia’s sunny shore,
he was inclined to roam
He helped the poor, he robbed the rich,
Their crops he would destroy
A terror to Australia was
the wild colonial boy

For two long years this daring youth
ran on his wild career
With a heart that knew no danger
and a soul that felt no fear.
He held the Beechwood Coach up
and he robbed Judge McEvoy
Who, trembling, gave his gold up
to the wild colonial boy.

He bade the Judge “Good Morning”
and he told him to beware
For he never robbed an honest judge
who acted ‘on the square”
“Yet you would rob a mother
of her only pride and joy
And breed a race of outlaws like
the wild colonial boy”

One morning on the prairie,
While Jack Duggan rode along
While listening to the mocking bird,
a-singing out his song
Out jumped three troopers fierce and grim
Kelly, Davis and Fitzroy
Were detailed for to capture him,
the wild colonial boy

“Surrender now, Jack Duggan,
you can see we’re three to one
Surrender in our Queen’s name,
for you are a plundering son”.
Jack drew two pistols from his belt,
and glared upon Fitzroy
“I’ll fight, but not surrender,”
cried the wild colonial boy

He fired a shot at Kelly,
and he brought him to the ground
He fired a shot at Davis too,
who fell dead at the sound
But a bullet pierced his brave young heart,
from the pistol of Fitzroy
And that was how they captured him,
the wild colonial boy

KEY D

D D7 G Em
A A7 D
D Bm A A
G A D
D Bm A A
G A D
D D7 G Em
A A7 D

words and music Harry Wincott, additional verses by Brad Howard

What shall we do with a drunken sailor,
What shall we do with a drunken sailor,
What shall we do with a drunken sailor,
Early in the morning?

chorus:
Weigh heigh and up she rises
Weigh heigh and up she rises
Weigh heigh and up she rises
Early in the morning

Put him in a long boat till he’s sober.

Leave him there till they make him better.

Trice up in a running bowline.

Give ‘im a dose of salt and water.

Give ‘im a taste of the bosun’s rope-end.

Soak him in oil till he sprouts a flipper.

Shave his belly with a rusty razor.

Put him in the bed of the Captain’s daughter.

You should of seen the Captain’s daughter.

She looks like an orangutan.

Swinging from a chandalier.

That’s what you do with a drunken sailor.

KEY Dm

verse/chorus:
Dm
C
Dm
Dm-C-Dm

words and music Harry Wincott, additional verses by Brad Howard

Some friends and I in a public house
Was playing a game of chance one night
When into the pub a fireman ran
His face all a chalky white.
“What’s up”, says Brown, “Have you seen a ghost,
Or have you seen your Aunt Mariah?”
“Me Aunt Mariah be buggered!”, says he,
“The bleedin’ pub’s on fire!”

And there was Brown upside down
Lappin” up the whiskey on the floor.
“Booze, booze!” The firemen cried
As they came knockin’ on the door (clap clap)
Oh don’t let ‘em in till it’s all drunk up
And somebody shouted MacIntyre! MACINTYRE!
And we all got blue-blind paralytic drunk
When the Old Dun Cow caught fire.

“Oh well,” says Brown, “What a bit of luck.
Everybody follow me.
And it’s down to the cellar
If the fire’s not there
Then we’ll have a grand old spree.”
So we went on down after good old Brown
The booze we could not miss
And we hadn’t been there ten minutes or more
Till we were quite pissed.

Then, Smith walked over to the port wine tub
And gave it just a few hard knocks (clap clap)
Started takin’ off his pantaloons
Likewise his shoes and socks.
“Hold on, ” says Brown, “that ain’t allowed
Ya cannot do that thing here.
Don’t go washin’ trousers in the port wine tub
When we got Guinness beer.”

Then there came from the old back door
The Vicar of the local church.
And when he saw our drunken ways,
He began to scream and curse.
“Ah, you drunken sods! You heathen clods!
You’ve taken to a drunken spree!
You drank up all the Benedictine wine
And you didn’t save a drop for me!”

And then there came a mighty crash
Half the bloody roof caved in.
We were almost drowned in the firemen’s hose
But still we were gonna stay.
So we got some tacks and some old wet sacks
And we nailed ourselves inside
And we sat drinking the finest Rum
Till we were bleary-eyed.

Later that night, when the fire was out
We came up from the cellar below.
Our pub was burned. Our booze was drunk.
Our heads was hanging low.
“Oh look”, says Brown with a look quite queer.
Seems something raised his ire.
“Now we gotta get down to Murphy’s Pub,
It closes on the hour!”

KEY Dm

verse/chorus:
Dm Dm
Am Am
Dm Am
Dm C Dm
Dm Dm
Am Am
Dm Am
Dm C Dm

words and music Steven and Peter Jones

Kilkelly, Ireland, eighteen and sixty, my dear and loving son John
Your good friend and schoolmaster Pat McNamara so good as to write these words down.
Your brothers have all gone to find work in England, the house is all empty and sad
The crop of potatoes is sorely infected, a third to a half of them bad.
Your sister Bridget and Patrick O’Donnell are going to be married in June.
Your mother says not to work on the railroad and be sure to come on home soon.

Kilkelly, Ireland, eighteen and seventy, my dear and loving son John
Hello to your missus and to your 4 children. May they grow healthy and strong.
Michael has got in a wee bit of trouble, I guess that he never will learn.
Because of the dampness there’s no turf to speak of and now we have nothing to burn.
Bridget is happy, you named a child for her and now she’s got six of her own.
You say you found work, but you don’t say what kind or when you will be coming home.

Kilkelly, Ireland, eighteen and eighty, dear Michael and John, my sons
I’m sorry to give you the very sad news that your dear old mother has gone.
We buried her down at the church in Kilkelly, your brothers and Bridget were there.
You don’t have to worry, she died very quickly. Remember her in your prayers.
And it’s so good to hear that Michael’s returning, with money he’s sure to buy land
For the crop has been poor and the people are selling as fast as they can.

Kilkelly, Ireland, eighteen and ninety, my dear and loving son John
I suppose that I must be close on eighty, it’s thirty years since you’re gone.
Because of all of the money you sent me, I’m still living out on my own.
Michael has built himself a fine house and Bridget’s daughters have grown.
Thank you for sending your family pictures. They’re lovely young women and men.
You say that you might even come for a visit, what joy to see you again.

Kilkelly, Ireland, eighteen and ninety-two, my dear brother John
I’m sorry that I didn’t write sooner to tell you that father is gone.
He was living with Bridget, she says he was happy and healthy down to the end.
Ah, you should have seen him play with the grandchildren of Pat McNamara, your friend.
And we buried him alongside of mother down at the Kilkelly churchyard.
He was a strong and a feisty old man, considering his life was so hard.
And it’s funny the way he kept talking about you. He called for you at the end.
Oh, why don’t you think about coming to visit, what joy to see you again.

Chords: KEY Dm

Dm F C Dm
Dm F C Dm
F C Bb Am
Dm F C Dm
F C Bb Am
Dm F C Dm