Top o' The Morning To You!

[Maine-iac]

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

[udjw828]

....and to you, lassy!!

[MountainHawk]

Happy St. Patrick's Day to you too!

[Kaput Shakur]

I prefer Erin go Braghless.

[Maine-iac]

That's exactly what Mr. M said this morning . . . .

Love song to Ireland (at a time when allegiance to Ireland was punishable by death, the island was portrayed as a woman in patriotic songs.)

Where Lagan stream sings lullaby, there blows a lily fair
The twilight gleam is in her eyes, the night is on her hair
And like a lovesick lenanshee* she hath my heart in thrall
Nor life I own, nor liberty
for love is lord of all.

And when the beetle's horn hath lulled the eye to sleep
I steal unto her shieling lorn and thro' the dooring peep
There on the cricket's singing stone, she stirs the bogwood fire
And hums in sad, sweet undertone
the song of heart's desire.

Her welcome like her love for me is from the heart within
Her warm kiss is felicity, that knows no taint of sin
When she was only very small her gentle mother died
But true love keeps her memory warm
by Lagan's silver side.

*Faerie trivia of the day: A leanuan sidhe (lan-an she) is a female faerie whose beauty puts men under a spell, and draws them to their deaths.

'Twas down the glen one Easter morn
To a city fair rode I.
When Ireland's line of marching men
In squadrons passed me by.
No pipe did hum, no battle drum
Did sound its dread tattoo
But the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey's swell
Rang out in the foggy dew.

Right proudly high over Dublin town
They flung out a 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;
While Britannia's sons with their long-range guns
Sailed in through the foggy dew.

Oh, the night fell black and the rifles crack
Made "Perfidious Albion" reel
'Mid the leaden rail, seven tongues of flame
Did shine o'er the lines of steel
By each shining blade, a prayer was said
That to Ireland her sons be true
And when morning broke still the war flag shook
Out its fold in the Foggy Dew.

'Twas England bade our Wild Geese go
That small nations might be free
But their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves
or the fringe of the grey North Sea
Oh had they died by Pearse's side,
or had fought with Cathal Brugha
Their graves we'd keep where the Fenians sleep,
'neath the shroud of the Foggy Dew.

But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell
Rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide
In the springing of the year
And the world did gaze, with deep amaze,
At those fearless men and true
Who bore the fight that freedom's light
Might shine through the Foggy Dew.

Ah, back through the glen I rode again,
And my heart with grief was sore
For I parted then with valiant men
Whom I never shall see more
But to and fro in my dreams I go
And I'd kneel and pray for you
For slavery fled, O glorious dead,
When you fell in the Foggy Dew.

Óró, Sé Do Bheatha 'Bhaile (You Are Welcome Home)

Se do bheatha a bhean ba leanmhar!
(Welcome Oh woman who was so afflicted)
B'e ar gcreach tu bheith i ngeibhinn
(It was our ruin that you were in bondage)
Do dhuiche bhrea i seilbh meirleach
(Our fine land in the possesion of theives)
'S tu diolta leis na Ghallaibh.
(And sold to the foreigners)

Chorus:
Oro, se do bheatha 'bhaile! x3
(Óró! You are welcome home!)
Anois ar theacht an tsamhraidh.
(Now that summer is coming)

Ta Grainne Mhaol ag teacht thar saile,
(Grainne Mhaol is coming over the sea)
Oglaigh armtha lei mar gharda
(Armed warriors along with her as guard)
Gaeil iad fein 's ni Gaill na Spainnigh
(They are Irishmen, not English or Spanish)
'S cuirfid siad ruaig ar Ghallaibh.
(And they will rout the foreigners)

Chorus

A bhui le Ri na bhfeart go bhfeiceam
(May it please the God of Miracles that we may see)
Muna mbeam beo 'na dhiaidh ach seachtain
(Although we only live a week after it)
Grainne Mhaol agus mile gaiscioch
(Grainne Mhaol and a thousand warriors)
Ag fogairt fain ar Ghallaibh.
(Dispersing the foreigners)

[The Waiting Hurts]

Mmmmmm Guin-ness!

When I was a young lass the old folks used to mix guiness with cream and a little sugar. Tasty! Think I'll go pick up a guinness on the way home.

[Maine-iac]

I know a valley fair,
Eileen Aroon.
I know a cottage there,
Eileen Aroon.
Deep in the valley shade,
I know a tender maid.
Flower of the hazel glade,
Eileen Aroon.

Who in the song so sweet?
Eileen Aroon
Who in the dance so fleet?
Eileen Aroon
Dear are her charms to me,
Dearer her laughter free,
Dearest her constancy,
Eileen Aroon.

Youth will in time decay,
Eileen Aroon.
Beauty must fade away,
Eileen Aroon.
Castles are sacked in war,
Cheiftans are scattered far,
Truth is a fixed star,
Eileen Aroon.