Well Below the Valley-O Me cup was filled up to the brim, If I were to stoop, I might fall in At the well below the valley-o, Green grows the lily-o, Right among the bushes-o I ask if your love’s passing by, would you pour him a drink if he got dry, At the well below the valley-o, Green grows the lily-o, Right among the bushes-o She swore by grass, she swore by corn, That her true love had never been born At the well below the valley-o, Green grows the lily-o, Right among the bushes-o I said to her you’re swearing wrong for six fine children you have born At the well below the valley-o, Green grows the lily-o, Right among the bushes-o If you be of noble fame, You’ll tell to me the father’s name At the well below the valley-o, Green grows the lily-o, Right among the bushes-o There’s one by your Uncle Don, the rest are by your brother John At the well below the valley-o, Green grows the lily-o, Right among the bushes-o If you be of noble fame, You’ll tell to me what you did to them At the well below the valley-o, Green grows the lily-o, Right among the bushes-o One lies by the graveyard wall, There’s two more ‘neath the horse’s stall At the well below the valley-o Another by the stable door, There’s one more ‘neath the kitchen floor At the well below the valley-o The last one lies beneath the stone, so pale and smooth and white as bone At the well below the valley-o, Green grows the lily-o, Right among the bushes-o Now soon we both will ring that bell, Oh Lord, I beg please save my soul At the well below the valley-o, Green grows the lily-o, Right among the bushes-o Green grows the lily-o, Right among the bushes-o Green grows the lily-o, Right among the bushes-o Green grows the lily-o, Right among the bushes-o Green grows the lily-o, Right among the bushes-o Green grows the lily-o, Right among the bushes-o Green grows the lily-o, Right among the bushes-o Green grows the lily-o, Right among the bushes-o

WHISKEY YOU’RE THE DEVIL (3dt) Whiskey You’re the Devil, leading me astray, over hills and mountains into a bloody grave You’re easy on the soul, and spicy in the tay, Oh whiskey, you’re my darling drunk or sober Here’s a man they call Kris Tasker, he’s headed for disaster A mighty blighty son, if the evenings just begun Hey father watch your daughter, Cause with the pint he offers He’s still screaming hallelujah Sweet Ann Clementine, sweet friend of mine Its not the glass of wine she’s after Come now fill my glass, bitch you can kiss my ass I’m still screaming bloody murder Here’s a man they call Kris Tasker, he’s headed for disaster A mighty blighty son, if the evenings just begun And its touura lourra la, touura lourra la, Right you are my ladies, there is whiskey in the jar!

Leaving Of Liverpool Farewell to you my own true love, I am going far away I am bound for California, But I know that I'll return some day So fare thee well my own true love, when I return, united we will be It’s not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me, My Darling, when I think of thee I am off to for California, By way of the stormy Cape Horn, And I will write thee a letter, my love, When I am homeward bound. I’ve sailed upon on a Yankee clipper ship, Davy Crockett is her name, Mr. Daniel Burgess is the captain of her and they say she’s a floating hell. Farewell to you, Lower Frederick Street, Anson Terrace and Park Lane If the man be a sailor, we will get along; If not I'll never see you again Now I know I’ll never see you again

PUB WITH NO BEER What a God Awful Place is a Pub with No Beer ‘Tis a lonely night to be caught alone Try to make your way, finding someone of your own But there’s nothing so lonesome, so morbid, so drear To stand in a bar of a Pub with No Beer! (Hey) Pub with No Beer! (Hey) Pub with No Beer! (Hey) There’s nothing on God’s earth more than I fear No pint of the stout, so break the whiskey out What a God awful place is a pub with no beer The lads from the town with nothing to say Even the mayor’s been caught speechless today The waitress stands up, cries out its worse than it appears, the whiskey’s run out and I still got no beer Good ole Johnny Ransom, the first time in his life Has gone home sober to his darling wife He walks into the kitchen, she says “you’re early my dear?” And he breaks down, cause the pubs got no beer What a God awful place is a pub with no beer! What a God awful place is a pub with no beer!

HAUL AWAY JOE When I was a little boy, so my mother told me, to me Way haul away, we'll haul away Joe That if I did not kiss the girls, my lips would all grow moldy, to me Way haul away, we'll haul away Joe Way, haul away, the good ship now is rolling, to me Way haul away, we'll haul away Joe First I met a Yankee girl and she was fat and lazy, to me Way haul away, we'll haul away Joe And then I met an Irish girl, she damn near drove me crazy, to me Way haul away, we'll haul away Joe King Louis was the King of France before the revolution, to me Way haul away, we'll haul away Joe And then he got his head cut off, it spoiled his constitution, to me Way haul away, we'll haul away Joe Way haul away, we'll haul away Joe St. Patrick was a gentleman, he came from decent people, to me Way haul away, we'll haul away Joe He built a church in Dublin town and on raised a steeple on it, to me Way haul away, we'll haul away Joe Way haul away, we're bound for better weather, to me Way haul away, we'll haul away Joe

Kelly, I’m Coming Over Hi, My name is Jimmy McGuirk, I was born and raised in the bay A working gent, who pays the rent, Loading docks in the Cay O’Malley and Minihan, Thomas O’Shanahan, Taking a ride into town Down for a pint, and well I just might, Be partial to sticking around Kelly, I’m coming over, Kelly, I’m coming over My favorite dive’s a hole in the wall, Just west of Union Square Wasn’t the taps or Keno for cash, That always landed me there Behind the bar, you’d often find, A lass which none could deny You take one down, pass it around, Hoping to catch her eye Oh Kelly, Oh Kelly, Oh Kelly, Oh now Kelly; Kelly, Oh Kelly Kelly, I’m coming over, Kelly, I’m coming over A glass of gin we all fit in, we dance like no one’s around We answers yay, or don’t cha dare cause I’ll be staring ya down The riders and rovers, highway patrollers, Always holding me back I’ll be rambling or be gambling, Heading straight to attack Oh Kelly, Oh Kelly, Oh Kelly, Oh now Kelly; Kelly, Oh Kelly Oh Kelly, Oh Kelly, Oh Kelly, Oh now Kelly; Kelly, Oh Kelly Kelly, I’m coming over, Kelly, I’m coming over

A Toast to My Father You take a bottle, Fill the glass Drink it down and drink it fast Slam it down, now up again To my dear father He’s a stubborn as a mule and rigid as a wall And when we’d talk, we’d yell and scream if we’d talk at all He’d start me in the morning, ‘til evening give me hell And say a job worth doing, is a job worth doing well Each day I’d learn a lesson, he’d show me how its done And if he caught me messin’ round, he’d teach me more than one You take a bottle, Fill the glass, Drink it down and drink it fast Slam it down, now up again, To my dear father We’d fight like rabid dogs, rarely seeing eye to eye But when times were tough and things got rough, he’d be there by me side He taught me to live honest and taught me to live true And though we’re both much older now, I still look up to you So here I call a toast and raise my glass up high (pause) Here’s a drink to you old man, I’ll love ya til I die! HEY You take a bottle, Fill the glass, Drink it down and drink it fast Slam it down, now up again, To my dear father You take a bottle, Fill the glass, Drink it down and drink it fast Slam it down, now up again, To my dear father HEY……To my dear father HEY……To my dear father HEY…….To my dear…. (finish your beer!)

DRUNKEN SAILOR (3dt) I was out gambling, I never win but tonight, I was on a roll The Deputy, had a pair of three and was fifty in the hole What do you do with a drunken Sailor? What do you do with a drunken Sailor? What do you do with a drunken Sailor, earli in the mornin’? A little five card stud, with fellahs from the neighborhood, Over a glass of the shine, It didn’t help, the sheriff’s sister, Lil, was a good friend of mine It was getting wind that I was cheatin, ask me I couldn’t tell The Sheriff looks me in the eye, says son you’re gonna die and I’ll be sending ya straight to hell It got very still, in walks good ‘ole Lil, carrying a .45 The sheriff gives and evil grin and she pops a hole through him, that’s how I knew my love arrived That's what you do with a drunken Sailor. That's what you do with a drunken Sailor. That's what you do with a drunken Sailor, earli in the morning’ Way oh up he rises.

Back Home in Derry In 1803 I sailed out to sea, Bound from the sweet port of Derry For Australia bound if I didn't all drown, And the marks of our fetters we carried. In our rusty iron chains we cried out our veins, Our good wives we left in sorrow As the mainsails unfurled, our curses we hurled, At the English, and thoughts of tomorrow Oh Oh Oh Oh I wish I was back home in Derry. I stepped out from the foil to bid Farwell to the soil And down below decks we were lying. And I heard a scream and I woke from a dream, With a vision of old Ireland dying. The sun burn was cruel and they dished out our gruel, O'Connor lay down with a fever Eighty rebels today bound for Botany Bay, And how many would live there to see her? I cursed them to hell as our bow fought the swell. Our ship danced like a moth in the firelights. White horses rode high and the devil passed by, Taking souls to Hades by twilight. Five weeks out to sea , they turned now fifty-three, We buried our comrades each morning. We’re lost in a time and we rolled in our slime, It was endless night without dawning. Well, Van Dieman's land is a hell for a man To live out your life there in slavery. When the climate is raw and the gun speaks the law. Neither wind nor rain care for bravery. Twenty years have gone by and I've ended me bond, My comrades ghosts walk beside me As rebel I came and I'm dyin’ the same. On the cold shades of night, you can find me

The Irish Rover In the year of our Lord, 1806, we set sail from the sweet cove of Cork, We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks, for the grand city hall in New York. 'Twas an elegant craft, she was rigged fore and aft, and how the trade winds drove her, She could stand a great blast, with her 23 masts, and we called her the Irish Rover. We had 1 million bags of the best Sligo rags, we had 2 million barrels of stone, We had 3 million sides of our blind horses hides, we had 4 million barrels of bone. We had 5 million hogs, 6 million dogs, 7 million barrels of porter, We had 8 million bales of old nanny goat tails, in the hold of the Irish Rover. There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee, there was Hogan from County Tyrone, There was Johnny McGuirk who was scared stiff of work, and the chap from West Meath was Malone. There was Slugger O' Toole who was drunk as a rule, and fighting Bill Tracey from Dover. There was Dolan from Clare, just as strong as a bear, as the skipper of the Irish Rover. We had sailed 7 years when the measles broke out, and our ship lost its way in the fog. (GREAT FOG!!) The whale of the crew was reduced down to two, just myself and the captain's old dog. (GREAT DOG!!) The ship struck a rock, Lord what a shock, the boat, it spun right over Turned nine times around and the poor old dog was drowned Hey! I'm the last of the Irish Rover.

The Foggy Dew Down the glen, one Easter morn, To a city fair rode I There armed lines of marching men, In squadrons passed me by No fife did hum, nor battle drum; Did sound it's dread tattoo But the Angel’s bells, o'er the Liffey 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 “Sulva” or “Sude El Bar” And from the plains of Royal Meath; Strong men came hurrying through While Britannia's Huns, with their long range guns, Sailed in through the foggy dew Oh the bravest fell, and the requiem bell; Rang mournfully and clear For those who died that Easter tide, In the spring time of that year While the world did gaze, with deep amaze; At those fearless men, but few Who bore the fight, so that freedom's light; Might shine through the foggy dew 'Twas England bade our Wild Geese fly; That small nations might be free But their lonely graves are by Sulva's waves; On the fringe of the Great North Sea Oh, had they died, by Pearse's side; Or fought with Cathal Brugha (brew) Their names we will keep, where the fenians sleep; 'Neath the shroud of the foggy dew Oh, the night fell black, the rifles crack; made Perfidious Albion reel Mid the leaden rain, seven tongues of flame; did shine o’er the lines of steel By each warrior’s blade, a prayer was said; that to Ireland her sons be true And when morning broke, still the war flag shook; Out its folds in the foggy dew Back through the glen, I rode again; my heart with grief so sore I parted with those valiant men, Whom I’ll never see more But to and fro in my dreams I go; I'll kneel and pray for you For slavery fled, O glorious dead; When you fell in the foggy dew (stop and tag it) For slavery fled, O glorious dead; When you fell in the foggy dew

Star Of The County Down Near Banbridge town in the County Down, one morning last July Down a Boreen green, came a sweet Colleen, and she smiled as she passed me by She looked so sweet from her two bare feet to the sheen of her nut-brown hair Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself, for to see I was really there From Bantry Bay to Derry’s Quay, From Galway to Dublin town No maid I've seen, like the fair Colleen; that I met in the County Down As she onward sped, sure I scratched my head and I looked with a feeling rare And I says, says I, to a passer-by: Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair? Well he looked at me, and he said to me: That's the gem of Irelands crown Young Rose McCann, from the banks of the Bann, she's the star of the County Down She’d have soft brown eyes with a look so shy, and a smile like a rose in June And she sang so sweet, what a lovely treat, as she lilted an Irish tune At the patterns dance, I was in a trance, as she whirled with the lads from the town And it broke me heart, just to be apart, from the Star of the County Down At the harvest fair, she'll be surely there, so I'll dress in my Sunday clothes With my shoes shone bright & my hat cocked right, for a smile from my nut-brown rose No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke, ‘til my plough is a rust-colored brown Til a smiling bride, by my own fireside, sits the star of the County Down

Blonde is the Color Blonde is the color, of my true love`s hair Her lips are like some roses fair She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands. And I love the ground on which she stands I love my love, and well she knows I love the ground where on she goes. I wish the day, that it soon will come When she and I could be as one I go to the Clyde, I mourn and weep For satisfied, I never can be Then I write her a letter, just a few short lines And suffer death, a thousand times For Blonde is the color of my true love`s hair Her lips are like some roses fair She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands. And I love the ground on which she stands

Come out ye Black and Tans – Wolfetones I was born in a Dublin street where the loyal drums do beat And the loving English feet they walked all over us And every single night when me dad would come home tight He'd invite the neighbors outside with this chorus Oh come out ye Black and Tans, come out and fight me like a man Show your wives how you won medals down in Flanders Tell her how the IRA made you run like hell away From the green and lovely lanes in Killeshandra Come tell us how you slew them ole Arabs two by two Like the Zulus, they had spears and bow and arrows How you bravely you faced down one with your sixteen-pounder gun And you've frightened them poor natives to their marrows Come here so you can tell, how you've slung the brave Parnell When you thought him well and truly persecuted Where are your sneers and jeers that you loudly let us hear When our leaders of 16 were executed

Too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la, too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la Too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la; give him a jar of porter Too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la, too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la Too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la; give him a jar of porter If you want your child to grow, Your child to grow, your child to grow If you want your child to grow, Give him a jar of porter Sing too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la Sing too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la; give him a jar of porter When I was young and cradle cake, No drop of milk now would I take My father up and had his spake, Give him a jar of porter Sing too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la Sing too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la; give him a jar of porter And when I'm dead and in my grave, I hope a prayer for me you'll save And as you’ll be passin' by, Throw in a jar of porter Sing too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la Sing too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la; throw in a jar of porter And when I reach the golden gates, I hope I have not long to wait I'll call St. Peter aside and say, Brought you a jar of porter Sing too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la Sing too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la, brought you a jar of porter Sing too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la Sing too-ra loo-ra loo-ra-la; give him a jar of porter!

Poem by James Cousins

Jug Of Punch Background: A jug was, and still is, the best for drinking punch out of. As they say, the water and the spirits mix better. One pleasant evening in the month of June; I was sitting with my glass and spoon A small chick sat on an ivy bunch, And the song he sang was "The Jug Of Punch." Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay, too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay A small chick sat on an ivy bunch, And the song he sang was "The Jug Of Punch." What more diversion can a man desire? Than to sit him down by an alehouse fire Upon his knee a pretty wench And upon the table a jug of punch. Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay, too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay Upon his knee a pretty wench And upon the table a jug of punch. Let doctors come with all their art; They'll make no impression upon my heart Even the nurses all break for lunch, When they’re snug outside of a jug of punch Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay, Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay Even the nurses all break for lunch, When they’re snug outside of a jug of punch. And if I get drunk, well, me money's me own, And them don't like it, they can leave me alone I'll chune me fiddle and I'll rosin me bow And I'll be welcome wherever I go. Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay, Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay I'll chune me fiddle and I'll rosin me bow And I'll be welcome wherever I go. And when I'm dead and in my grave, No costly tombstone will I crave Just lay me down in my native peat, With a jug of punch at my head and feet. Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay, Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay Just lay me down in my native peat, With a jug of punch at my head and feet. Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay, too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay A small chick sat on an ivy bunch, And the song he sang was "The Jug Of Punch."

Johnny McEldoo There was Johnny MacEldoo and McGee and me, And a couple or two or three went on a spree one day We had a bob or two, which we knew how to blew, And the beer and whiskey flew, and we all felt gay. We visited McCann's, McEloman's, Salty Dan's, We then went into Swann's our stomachs for to pack We ordered out the feed which indeed we did need, And we finished it with speed but we still felt slack Johnny McEldoo turned red, white and blue; And a plate of Irish stew he soon put out of sight He shouted out encore with a roar for some more, That he never felt before such a keen appetite He ordered eggs and ham, bread and jam, what a cram; But him we couldn't tram, though we tried our level best For everything we brought, cold or hot, mattered not, It went down him like a shot but he still stood the test He swallowed tripe and lard by the yard, we were scar'd; We thought it would go hard when the waiter brought the bill We told him to give o'er but he swore he could lower, Twice as much again and more before he had his fill He nearly soaked a trough full of broth, says McGrawth He'll devour the tablecloth if you don't haul him in When the waiter brought the charge McEldoo felt so large, He began to scout and barge, and his blood went on fire He began to curse and swear, tear his hair in despair, And to finish the affair, called the shopman a liar The shopman he threw out and no doubt he did clout; McEldoo he kicked about like an old football Tattered all his clothes, broke his nose, I suppose, Nearly killed him with a few blows in no time at all MacEldoo began to howl and to growl, by my soul, He threw an empty bowl at the shopkeeper's head Struck for Mickey Finn, peeled the skin off his chin, And the ructions did begin, and we all fought and bled The peelers did arrive, man alive, four or five, And at us they made a drive for us all to march away We paid for all the meat that we ate, set it straight, And went home to ruminate on the spree that day

THE JOLLY TINKER As I went down a shady lane, at a door I chanced to knock "Have you any pots or kettles, with rusty holes to block?" "Well indeed I have, don't you know I have To me right fol-ooral-addy, well indeed I have" The misses came out to the door and she asked me to come in "You're welcome jolly tinker and I hope you brought your tin" "Well indeed I have, don't you know I have To me right fol-ooral-addy, well indeed I have" She took me through the kitchen and she led me through the hall And the servants cried "The devil, has he come to block us all Well, indeed I did, don't you know I did To me right fol-ooral-addy, don’t you know I did" She took me up the stairs, me lads, to show me what to do Then she fell on the feather bed and I fell on it too Well, indeed I did, don't you know I did To me right fol-ooral-addy, don’t you know I did" She then took out a frying pan and she began to knock For to let the servants know, me lads, that I was at my work Well, Indeed I was, don't you know I was. To me right fol-ooral-addy, don’t you know I was" She put her hand into her pocket and she pulled out twenty pounds "Take that my jolly tinker and we'll have another round" "Well, indeed we will, don't you know we will... To me right fol-ooral-addy, don’t you know we will" Well, I've been a jolly tinker for these forty years or more But such a lovely job as that, I never did before Well, indeed I did, don't you know I did... To me right fol-ooral-addy, don’t you know I did"

The Sick Note/The Bricklayers Plight Dear Sir, I write this note to you, to inform you of me plight And at the time of writing, I am not a pretty sight My body is all black and blue, me face a deathly gray I write this note to tell you why, I’m not at work today While working on the fourteenth floor, some bricks I had to clear And to throw them down from off the top, seemed quite a good idea But the foreman wasn't very pleased, he was an awful sod He said I had to cart them down the ladder in me hod. Well clearing all those bricks by hand, it seemed so very slow So I hoisted up a barrel and secured the rope below But in me haste to do the job, I was just too blind to see That a barrel full of building bricks, is heavier than me. So when I had untied the rope, the barrel fell like lead And clinging tightly to the rope I started up instead I took off like a rocket and to my dismay I found That half way up I met the bloody barrel coming down. Well the barrel broke me shoulder, as ONTO the ground it sped And when I reached the top I banged the pulley with me head I held on tight, though numb with shock from this almighty blow And then the barrel spilled out half its load, fourteen floors below Now when those building bricks fell from the barrel to the floor I then outweighed the barrel so I started down once more I held on tightly to the rope as I flew down to the ground And I landed on those building bricks that were scattered all around. Now as I lay there on the deck, I thought I'd passed the worst But when the barrel reached the top, that's when the bottom burst A shower of bricks rained down on me, I knew I had no hope And In all of the confusion, I let go the bloody rope. The barrel being heavier, it started down once more And landed right on top of me, as I lay there on the floor It broke three ribs and my left arm, and I can only say That I hope you'll understand the reasons why I’m not at work today.

The Moonshiner I'm a rambler, I'm a gambler, I'm a long ways from home, And if you don't like me, well, leave me alone I'll eat when I'm hungry, I'll drink when I'm dry And if the moonshine don't kill me, I'll live til I die I've been a moonshiner for many a year I've spent all me money on whiskey and beer I'll go to some hollow, I'll set up my still And I'll make you a gallon for a ten shilling bill I'll go to some hollow, in this country Ten gallons of wash, I can go on a spree No women to follow, the world is all mine I love none so well, as I love the moonshine Oh, moonshine, dear moonshine, oh, how I love thee You killed me old father, but ah you try me Now bless all moonshiners, and bless all moonshine Their breath smells as sweet as the dew on the vine

Cruiskeen Lan (translates to The Full Jug) Let the farmer praise his grounds, let the huntsman praise his hounds, And the shepherd his dewy scented lawn; Oh but I, more wise than they, spend each happy night and day With me darlin' little cruiskeen lan, lan, lan, Oh, me darlin little cruiskeen lan. Immortal and divine, great Bacchus, god of wine Create me by adoption your own son. In hopes that you'll comply, That my glass shall not run dry Nor me darlin' little cruiskeen lan, lan, lan Oh, me darlin little cruiskeen lan And when grim Death appears, in a few but happy years, To say “oh won’t you come along with me” I'll say, "Begone, you knave! For king Bacchus gave me leave To take another cruiskeen lan, lan, lan Oh, To take another cruiskeen lan. So fill your glasses high, let’s not part with lips so dry For the lark now proclaims it’s the dawn! And since we can’t remain, may we sharply meet again To fill another cruiskeen lan, lan, lan Oh, to fill another cruiskeen lan.

DANNY BOY 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 roses falling 'tis you must go, 'tis you must go, and I must bide. But come you back when summer's in the meadow Or when the valleys 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 "Avé" 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.