Tonight I must journey to a far-off land,
One from whence I may never return.
Farewell you fine fellows, may you understand
That my heart will for you ever yearn.
As the ship leaves the shore I will weep the more
For the friends and the lovers I've left before,
But it's you who are here who'll I'll hold most dear
When I'm standing alone at the stern.
When out 'cross the water rings a clear ahoy
And a coastline appears at the prow,
I'll think on this night and be filled with joy
For the songs that I sing with you now.
It'll always bring cheer these tunes to hear,
It'll lighten my heart and will turn my ear
When I hear them sung in a foreign tongue
And I'm standing alone at the bow.
The sheep that roam this wilderness
Have wandered for an age,
The hills are hewn by winding tracks
Like scrawls across a page,
And since I left that spot
I can no time so serene describe
Than those childhood days I spent
Down in the woods of old Mountscribe.
The smell of thatch and burning peat
Hung welcoming in the air,
My father played melodeon
In his old rocking chair
And Burren stone I hold so dear
That no blackmail or bribe
Could e'er tempt me to forget
The days I spent in old Mountscribe.
The purple heather, yellow gorse,
The moss and the bracken green
Adorn the banks and drystone walls
Along the old boreen
Where small folk wander 'mongst
The barrows of a faery tribe
In the secret nooks and crannies
Of that place known as old Mountscribe.
Twenty summers now have passed
Their tired suns slowly sink
And I, a man, sat by my door
Of twenty sad things think,
But in the dusk of evening
As I count my memories all
It's of my days in old Mountscribe
Most fondly I do recall...
Queen & Country
I'm a worker by nature I freely admit
And I spend all my days in the fields
At a tiring old trade which may well be unpaid,
But it brings all the farmers their yields.
When the sun has dropped down I will take to my bed
In the cell that my own toil has made
To arise again early and tend to the gardens
Of folks who are in their beds laid...
Oh for Queen and Country,
Though the latter is no thought of mine,
I work for all and sundry,
I'm a labourer come rain or shine.
Gone are the days when on jelly I dined
A bumbling old fool I've become,
And I hum as I go the old chants that I know
From our glory days spent in the sun.
Well the people are swarming for honey & milk
And that land that was promised of old,
But they don't understand that the crops are unmanned
And the colonies now all stand cold.
Where there once was a gate to palace of gold
Flanked by guards in their striped livery
You'll find corpses piled high 'cause the honey's run dry
To pay those from the mortuary...
Oh the Cuckoo is a pretty bird, she sings as she flies
She brings us good tidings and tells us no lies
She sucks the little birds eggs to keep her voice clear
And when she sings cuckoo, the summer draws near.
As I walked down by the side of a bush,
I heard two birds whistling; the Blackbird and the Thrush
I asked them the reason so merry they be
And the answer that they gave me: We are single and we are free.
But the Nightingale sings so sweetly for true love she knows.
She's pierced her brown breast on the thorn of a rose.
That rose once as white as the first fall of snow
Glows scarlet in the moonlight, her heartache to show.
A-walking a-talking, a-walking was I,
When I spied Cock Robin in a ditch he did lie,
I asked him who caused him such sorrow, such strife
And he told me that the Sparrow had taken his life.
So when the year's a-turning and wassailing we go,
I'll spy our small king as he dashes through the snow.
The Wren singing boldly is out aways in front
Of the boys in straw costume who are out on the hunt.
Robin & The Banker
I sing to you of a banker bold
A banker bold he chanced to be
He got his pack up on his back
And went a-rambling o'er the lea.
By chance he met with two grey-clad men
Two grey-clad men he chanced there upon
The one of them was brave Robin Hood
And his companion was Little John.
“Banker pray tell what's in your pack
What's in your pack I would know..."
“I have a pittance of worthless coin
And useless bonds that I'm owed."
Then Robin Hood he drew out his sword
But this bold banker stood fast
They fought till blood in a river ran
The banker gave ground at last.
Robin opened the banker's pack
And golden guineas spilled out
But he found one tiny penny there
And with this he turned about.
“If every banker who came this way
Gave just one penny to me
I'd raise enough to feed all starved folk
Who ramble over the lea."
“I'd have the riches to nurse the sick
The means to shelter the poor,
If only courts throughout all the land
Would make this small tax the law!"
The Lonely Isle
Ye brave young souls of Albion
Who, spent by all and spared by none,
Are dealt a fateful fatal blow
By those I'll here revile.
We've lost our freedom for to roam
Far far away from our native home
For work in blind old Blighty
We now are bound a while
For from our continent we cleave
And cast a vote to take our Leave
To become that great grey nation
That they'll call The Lonely Isle.
Now England is with plenty blessed
But the people, they are sore oppressed
All by those wolfish tyrants
With a smirk behind their smile.
A well-placed lie of promised wealth
To spend upon the public health
Convinced our sheepish elders
For to opt for self-exile,
But still we have austerity
Supposed to bring prosperity
But cuts of such severity
They heap problems on the pile
And so it falls to younger hands
To hold the ties to union lands
And to heal the reputation
Of their sad and Lonely Isle.
Although it seems we're cut adrift
There is yet time to mend the rift
Put politicians in the dock
To face a public trial.
A concrete case we'll easily mount
To hold the bastards to account
With wink and nudge the high-court judge
Will smell their guilt and guile.
When rich men grow their greed to rue
We'll pay the working man his due
And march in solidarity
Among the rank and file,
We'll banish discord from our land
In harmony we'll make our stand
No more shall we be known as
A sad and Lonely Isle...