Wolfe Tones все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

One night as the winds whispered eerie tales
And the stars danced to and fro
I dreamt of the land
Where my forefathers trod
In those times of long ago
In Boston Harbour I saw brave men
And I watched with youthful pride
When they scattered the tea in

I went away to fight a war that small nations might be free
Got a soldiers guns and uniform to fight the enemy
I was trained to shoot my fellow man before he got to me
And I danced with death in the mud and wept
And prayed my home to see
So come over to me darling girl come here me Molly dear
You are as welcome as the flowers in May you're welcome here to me
No more I'll fire the musket shot or hear the cannon roar

Farewell to your bricks and mortar, farewell to your dirty lies
Farewell to your gangers and gang planks
And to hell with your overtime
For the good ship Ragamuffin, she's lying at the quay
For to take oul Pat with a shovel on his back
To the shores of Botany Bay

I'm on my way down to the quay, where the ship at anchor lays

I was born on a Dublin street where the Royal drums do beat
And the loving English feet they walked all over us,
And every night when me da come home tight
He'd invite the neighbors outside with this chorus:

Oh, come out you black and tans,
Come out and fight me like a man
Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders

Fare thee well until we meet again
Down by the Liffey Water
I'll bid farewell to Dublin and
Your streets of cobblestones
I'm going away to leave you
Me friends and all the girls too
Till I return to see you
Farewell old Dublin town

[Am] Lift MacCahir[Em] Og your face[Am] brooding o'er the[Em] old disgrace
That[Am] black FitzWilliam[Em] stormed your place, [C]drove you to the[Am] Fern
[Am]Grey said victor[Em]y was sure[Am] soon the firebrand[Em he'd secure;
Un[Am]til he met at[Em] Glenmalure with[C] Feach MacHugh O'[Am]Byrne.

Ch.:[Em] Curse and swear Lord Kildare
[G]Feagh will do what Feach will dare
[EmNow FitzWilliam, have a care

Oh, the four seasons come and
The four seasons go
In a cycle that spins our life away
The new year
It is here and the old one has gone
For time doesn't stop for any one

For three months of the year is

The ships it sails in half an
Hour to cross the broad Atlantic
Me friends are standing on the quay with
Grief and sorrow frantic
I'm just about to sail away in
The good ship Dan O'Leary
The anchors are weighed and the gangway's up
I'm leaving Tipperary

As I rolled into Frisco, boys
I went upon the street
I drank and gambled all night long
As drunk as I could be
I drank and gambled all night long
Till I could drink no more
'Twas then that I thought that
I'd like to be back

An raibh tu riamh i nGarán a Bhile?
Nó an bhfaca tu í ' nGarán a Bhile?
An tsuairc-bhean óg na gcuacha n-óir?
'Sí Cáit mo stór i nGarán a Bhile

Is gile í ná eala ar linn
Sna sneachta ar bharr na craoibhe cuilinn
'S milse a póg ná drucht na rós

Deep in Canadian woods we've met, from one bright island flown,
Great is the land we tread, but yet our hearts are with our own.
And here we leave this shanty small, while fades the autumn day,
We'll toast old Ireland, dear old Ireland, reland boys, hurrah!

We've heard her faults a hundred times, the new ones and the old.
In songs and sermons, rants and rhymes, enlarged some fifty-fold.
But take them all, the great and small, and this we've got to say,

There's an island that's famed and in story
Sweet poets of song and their praise
And their songs are of no brighter story
But her sons that have seen happier days
And though when I go the world over
And no matter where ever I go
In my heart there's a spot for old Ireland
And for you now sweet Molly a'store

In the East End of London, I met an old man.
He kept a bar called the Horses and Tram.
"My parents were Irish. They loved that dear land,"
The Cockney, he smiled, then he shook my old hand.

"My heart is in Ireland, it's there I long to be.
Her hills and her valleys are calling to me.
Though born here in this land, my heart is in Ireland.

In nineteen hundred and sixteen
The forces of the crown
To take the orange white and
Green bombarded Dublin town
But in twenty-one, Britannia's huns
Were forced to earn their pay

And the black and tans like lightning ran

Sad are the homes around Garryowen, since they lost their gal land pride,
but the banshee cry, rings every vale along the Shannon side, that city of the ancient walls, the broken treaty stone, on dying fame surrounds your name Sean South From Garryowen.
It[D] was on a dreary new year's eve as the[G] shades of night came[D] down,
A[D] lorry load of[G] volun[D]teers approched the border [A]town,
There was[D] men from Dublin[G] and from [D]Cork,Fermanagh[G] and Ty[A]rone,
And their[D] leader was a Limerick man Sean[G] South from[D] Garryowen
[2]
And as they moved along the streets up to the barrack door,

The bright sun is shining
And blue skies a-pining for the want of some
Clouds or some ornamentation
The heather's a-blazing and
Cows are a-grazing
I sit on the hill overlooking the bay

They're out in the ocean

O, Father dear
I ofttimes heard you talk of Erin's Isle
Her valleys green, her lofty scene
Her mountains rude and wild
You said it was a pleasant place
Wherein a prince might dwell
Why have you then forsaken her
The reason to me tell?

Alone, all alone by the wave-washed strand
And alone in a crowded hall
The hall it is gay and
The waves they are grand
But my heart is not here at all
It flies far away by night and by day
To the times and the joys that are gone
But I never will forget the

Some say the devil is dead, the devil is dead, the devil is dead,
Some say the devil is dead and buried in Killarney.
More say he rose again, more say he rose again, more say he rose
Again,
And joined the British army.
Feed the pigs and milk the cow, milk the cow, milk the cow,
Feed the pigs and milk the cow, so early in the morning.
Tuck your leg up, Paddy, dear. Paddy, dear, I'm over here! Tuck your leg

There's[Am] a blossom that blows that scoffs at the snows
And it[G] faces root fast the rage of the blast
It[Am] sweetens the sod no slave ever trod
Since the mountains[C] upreared their[G] alters to[Am] God
[Chorus]
The flower of the free the heather , the heather
The Britons the Scots the Irish together
The Manx and the Welsh and Cornish forever

Last night as I lay dreamin'
Of pleasant days gone by
Me mind bein' bent on rambling
To Ireland I did fly
I stepped on board a vision and
I followed with the wind
Till first I came to anchor at
The cross at Spancil Hill

When winter was brawling
O'er high hills and mountains
And dark were the clouds o'er
The deep rolling sea i spied a wee lass as
The daylight was dawning
She was asking the road
To sweet Carnlough Bay

T'was down by the Genside, I met an old woman
A plucking young nettles She n'er saw me coming
I listened awhile to the song she was humming
Glory-o, Glory-o to our bold Feninan Men

When I was a young lad, their marching and drilling
Awoke in the glenside sounds awesome and thrilling
They loved dear old Ireland and to die they were willing

I was born and raised in Boston
A place you all know well
Brought up by honest parents
The truth to you I'll tell
Brought up by honest parents
And raised most tenderly
Till I became a sporting blade at
The age of twenty three

As down the glen one Easter morn to a city fair rode I
There Armed lines of marching men in squadrons passed me by
No pipe did hum nor battle drum did sound its dread tattoo
But the Angelus Bell o'er the Liffey's swell rang out through the foggy dew

Right proudly high over Dublin Town they hung out the flag of war
'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky than at Suvla or Sud-El-Bar
And from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying through

The Barleycorn's single of this tune has sold more copies than any other single record in the history of Ireland. The Irish, who number slightly more than four million, bought over 250,000 copies of this single; its closest competition sold approximately 47,000. In terms of our population, the record would have sold an unprecedented 11 million copies. Brian McCormick, base guitar, sings the lead on this song. Written by Paddy McGuigan, (as are many of the tunes done by The Barleycorn) this song has been recorded by scores of Irish ballad singers both here and abroad

[Chorus]
[C]Armored cars and[Am] tanks and guns[G],came to take[C] away
our sons,
But[C] every man must[F] stand behind,the[C] men be[G]hind the[C] wire
[1]
In[C] the little[F] streets of Belfast,[C]in the dark of[G] early morn,

The sun is burning in the sky
Strands of clouds go slowly drifting by
In the park the dreamy bees
Are droning in the flowers, among the trees
And the sun burns in the sky

Now the sun is sinking low
Children playing know it's time to go

You may sing and speak about Easter Week or the heroes of Ninety-Eight,
Of the Fenian men who roamed the glen in victory or defeat,
Their names are placed on history's page, their memory will endure,
Not a song is sung for our darling sons in the Valley of Knockanure.
Our hero boys they were bold and true, no counsel would they take,
They rambled to a lonely spot where the Black and Tans did wait,
The Republic bold they did uphold though outlawed on the moor,
And side by side they bravely died in the Valley of Knockanure.

Come for a trip on Uncle Nobby's steamboat
Where you can hide your worries
On a high float and we'll take a trip
To leprechauns and shamrocks
And hide our minds and troubles for a while

And we're goin' where the
Grass is growing green