Lyrics

Allan McLean

Get all things in order I’ll write with my pen
The trials and misfortune of Allan McLean
I was born in the Oulton, a minister’s son
Brought up with good learning ‘til my school days were done

Well I went to the college a scholar to be
But the wedding at Westfield it quite ruined me
John Allan, McGregor, McDermott and me
Went to the wedding bonnie lassies to see

Oh we danced and we drank and we took great delight
‘Til bonny Sally Allan came into my sight
Oh Sally, dear Sally, will you sit down by me
And tell me the news from your north country

Oh Sally, dear Sally will you take a dram
Oh yes, bonny Allan if it comes from your hand
We went to the broom in the middle of the night
We had neither coal nor candle but the moon gave us light

But her father the next morning to the college he came
He was all in a passion at Allan McLean
If it’s true says the Regent and I think it’s no lie
This day from Oulton College young Allan must fly

Today’s the recreation and tomorrow’s the Ball
And we’ll banish you Allan from the Oulton College Hall
She was a rich man’s daughter and I but a poor man’s son
And one word from her father and my college days were done

My fathers a minister and he preaches at Tain
And my mother dies in the Highlands and I dare not go home
But there’s Charlotte, the Royal lies ready for sea
And she takes goods and passengers and maybe she’ll take me

I intended for a minister but now that will not do
And it’s now as a doctor my life I must pursue
And it’s I’m bound for London a doctor to be
And then to Jamaica, strange countries to see

And if ever I return again as I hope I will
We will have a merry meeting by the Oulton College wall
And if ever I return again as I surely will
I will marry Sally Allan in spite of them all

 

Banks of Newfoundland

Oh you may bless your happy luck that lies serene on shore
Far from the billows and the waves that round poor sailors roar
For little we knew the hardships that we were obliged to stand
For fourteen days and fourteen nights on the banks of Newfoundland

Our good ship never crossed before these stormy western waves
And the raging seas came down on us and soon beat in her stays
She being of green unseasoned wood and little could she stand
When the hurricane came down on us on the banks of Newfoundland

We were starved and frozen with the cold when we sailed from old Québec
And every now and then we were obliged to walk the deck
We being all hardy Irishmen and our vessel did well man
And the captain doubled each man’s grog on the banks of Newfoundland

We fasted for three days and nights when provisions did run out
And on the morning of the fourth we cast a lot about
The lot it fell on the captain’s son and as you may understand
We spared his life for another night on the banks of Newfoundland

Then on the morning of the fifth he got orders to prepare
We only gave him one short hour to offer up a prayer
But providence proved kind to us and saved blood from every hand
When a full-rigged ship hauled into view on the banks of Newfoundland

When they took us from our wrecked ship we were more like ghosts than men
They fed us and they clothed us and they brought us back again
But many of our brave Irish boys never saw they native land
And the captain lost both legs from frost on the banks of Newfoundland

The number of our passengers was four hundred thirty two
There was none of them poor passengers could tell that tale but two
Their parents may shed bitter tears that’s on their native strand
Wild mountains of waves roll over their graves on the banks of Newfoundland

Submitted by Saskia

The Mall of Lismore

Come all you fair maids take a warning
And it’s never a soldier take wed
Or else like myself you’ll be mourning
Far better live single instead

For once I was young and light hearted
But now all my pleasures are o’er
Since my darling has gone and he’s left me
All alone in the Mall of Lismore

As I went a walking one morning
Down by the sweet banks of the Finn
I met with a dashing young soldier
And soon my poor heart he did win

I thought him both handsome and charming
His features I ne’er saw before
But alas has gone and he’s left me
All alone in the Mall of Lismore

To Dublin his regiment was ordered
And my soldier he didn’t take long
In picking a dispute with his Sergeant
And it was for this misfortune was wronged

He was handcuffed and tied with a halter
And his back with the lash was made sore
And that was the reason he left me
All alone in the Mall of Lismore

Farewell to the banks of Blackwater
And adieu to my parents and home
Since my father her disowned his own daughter
In some foreign valleys I’ll roam

May he always be blessed with good fortune
And I hope that I’ll meet him once more
But alas has gone and he’s left me
All alone in the Mall of Lismore

Traditional

“The Mall of Lismore” is a song written in the first person—and as a warning to “other fair maids”—by a girl who was disowned by her father for falling in love with a “dashing young soldier” who, in turn, leaves her “all alone on the Mall of Lismore, when to Dublin his regiment was ordered”. Irvine sings and plays harmonica & mandolin, accompanied on harpsichord by Tríona Ní Dhomhnaill.

Lyrics submitted by Sean Laffey. “Here are the lyrics to Mall of Lismore, from the 1977 The Gathering album. These will be printed in Irish Music Magazine this coming October along with a commentary.”

Come To The Land Of Sweet Liberty

Our ship at the present lies in Derry Harbour
To bear us away o’er the wild swelling sea
May heaven be her pilot and grant us fond breezes
Till we reach the green fields of Amerikay.

Oh come to the land where we will be happy
Don’t be afraid of the storm o’er the sea
And it’s when we get over we will surely discover
That place is the land of sweet liberty.

Traditional

Part of a trilogy of songs (“The Emigrants”), comprising: “Come To The Land Of Sweet Liberty” which seems to be part of “The Green Fields Of Amerikay” (which Irvine learnt from Len Graham), “Farewell To Old Ireland” (Irvine’s adaptation of “The Emigrant’s Farewell”,) and “Edward Connors” (which Irvine learnt from Eddie Butcher of Magilligan, County Londonderry).

A Rich Irish Lady

A rich Irish lady from Ireland came,
A beautiful lady called Saro by name.
Her riches were more than a king could possess,
Her beauty was more than her wealth at its best.

A charming young gentleman courtin’ her came,
Courtin’ this lady called Saro by name.
“O, Saro! O, Saro! O, Saro!” said he,
“I’m afraid that my ruin forever you’ll be.

“I’m afraid that my ruin forever you’ll prove,
Unless you turn all of your hatred to love.”
“No hatred to you nor to no other man,
But this, for to love you, is more than I can.

“So, end all your sorrows, and drop your discourse,
I’ll never have you unless I am forced.”
Six months appeared and five years had passed,
When I heard of this lady’s misfortune at last.

She lay wounded by love, and she knew not for why;
She sent for this young man whom she had denied.
“Then am I your doctor, and am I your cure?
Am I your protector that you sent for me here?”

“Yes, you are my doctor, and you are my cure;
Without your protection I’ll die I am sure.”
“O, Saro! O, Saro! O, Saro!” said he,
“Don’t you remember when I first courted thee?

“I asked you in kindness, you answered in scorn,
I’ll never forgive you for times past and gone.”
“Times past and gone I hope you’ll forgive,
And grant me some longer in comfort to live.”

“I’ll never forgive you as long as I live,
I’ll dance on your grave, love,
when you’re laid in the ground.”
Then off of her fingers gold rings she pulled three,
Saying, “Take them and wear them when you’re dancing on me.

“Adieu, kind friends, adieu all around;
Adieu to my true love—God make him a crown;
I freely forgive him, although he won’t me,
My follies ten thousand times over I see.”

Traditional

Irvine learnt “The Rich Irish Lady” from an album Peggy Seeger recorded in the late 1950s.

Seamen Three

We were seamen three,
Cisco, Jimmy and me;
Shipped out to beat the fascists
Across the land and sea.

We were seamen three,
Cisco, Jimmy and me;
We outsung all o’ you Nazis
Across our lands and seas.

We were seamen three,
Cisco, Jimmy and me;
We talked up for the NMU
Across our lands and seas.

We were seamen three,
Cisco, Jimmy and me;
Outsung all o’ you finks and ginks
Across our lands and seas.

We were seamen three,
Cisco, Jimmy and me;
Worked to haul that TNT
Across our lands and seas.

We were seamen three,
Cisco, Jimmy and me;
If you ever saw one you’d see all three
Across our lands and seas.

We were seamen three,
Cisco, Jimmy and me;
Torpedoed twice and robbed with dice
Across our lands and seas.

We were seamen three,
Cisco, Jimmy and me;
Not many pretty lasses did we miss
Across our lands and seas.

We were seamen three,
Cisco, Jimmy and me;
Ocean’s still a-ringin’ with songs we sung
Across our lands and seas.

We were seamen three,
Cisco, Jimmy and me;
We fight and sing for the Willy McGhees
Across our lands and seas.

We were seamen three,
Cisco, Jimmy and me;
Keep a-fightin’ and a-singin’ till the world gets free
Across my lands and seas.

We were seamen three,
Cisco, Jimmy and me;
Gonna keep workin’ and a-fightin’ for peace
Across my lands and seas.

Words by Woody Guthrie

*This song is available in the “Pastures of Plenty: The Unpublished Writings of Woody Guthrie” edited by Harold Leventhal and Dave Marsh along with “Woody, Cisco and Me” by Vincent James Longhi. Both of these books are no longer in print.

© Copyright 1962 (renewed) and 1990 (renewed) by Woody Guthrie Publications, Inc. & TRO-Ludlow Music, Inc. (BMI) Contact The Publisher- The Richmond Organization (TRO)
Attention: Kathryn Ostien 266 West 37th Street, 17th Floor / New York, NY 10018-6609
Email: copyright@songways.com

The Man That Shot The Dog

I was born a collie sheepdog with a white band around my neck.
And for nine days my eyes were closed and I couldn’t see a speck
I had four lovely sisters, me being the only boy.
And for six weeks we played around, our mother’s pride and joy.

Till a gentleman from Mullaghbawn, a fancy to me took,
He held me in his arms, then my masters hand he shook.
He took me to his motor car and started for the road,
And in less than twenty minutes I was in my new abode.

Well the first thing my family did was to look for me a name
And they called me this and they called me that, and it sounded all the same.
Till my master he came round the house and this to me he said,
Consider yourself now a dog, henceforth your name is Ned.

My one great distinction was I had a bunty tail,
And I wagged it for my master as we walked o’er hill and dale.
I herded sheep and cattle and sometimes the nanny goat
And my master often threatened that he’d cut my bleedin’ throat

As the months went by and I grew up and learned to do my chore,
I barked at postmen, soldiers and likewise the man next door.
The people loved to see me work they said it was a treat
And before we got into the car, I always washed me feet.

But sometimes dogs grow lonesome and I wished I had a pal,
So I met a great big labrador and she said her name was Sal
She said that she was lonesome too that she had a pedigree
I said ‘that ain’t no problem Sal, you just leave that to me.’

When her master overheard the news, that with her I slept,
We didn’t use protection, and across the fence he leapt.
Saying ‘You bunty tailed black so-and-so from beyant in Conway Park
I’ll stop your gallivanting around me cottage after dark.’

With his gun up top his shoulder, a careful aim he took
And the noise that came out of it the valley round it shook.
It left me hide a burning as the bullet tore me head
And the woman says, ‘He shot that dog that belongs to Michael Ned’

When my master he did hear the shots and it happened just by luck
He went up to the gunman and he said ‘You Newry Knuck’
Then he let him have the one two three up in the ould phisogue
Saying ‘That’s the medicine I dish out to a man who would shoot me dog’

And he picked me up & carried me to me kennel & here i lie,
And I hear the neighbours asking ‘will poor Ned live or die?’
‘I’m getting great attention, now my body’s full of lead
And for the first time in my life I get my breakfast here in bed’
My master is forlorn, as he sits and strokes my head,
And he searches round my body for those little balls of lead.
He’s using awful language, as he sits there on the log
And these are some of the things he says about the man that shot the dog.

‘May scabs like crabs grow up in flabs round everything he feels,
And green snothers flow down to his toe and hacks come on his heels.
May his woman pout and his hair fall out, and his farts smell like a hog
And the divil’s luck take that Newry knuck, the man that shot the dog.

May piles grow ’round his big backside, like strawberries on their stalk
And everytime that he lifts his gun that his stomach it may baulk
And as he goes a hunting over heather, hill and bog
May the diorrhoea skite with all it’s might from the man that shot the dog’

And it’s to conclude and finish now, I’m on all fours once more
And I feel that urge coming over me that did one time before,
And I’ll sneak out some dark evening in mist or the thick fog,
And leave another half a dozen pups with the man that shot the dog.

Written by Michael Quinn.

As of yet this remains unrecorded by Andy. He has sung it at his shows many times. It is sung unaccompanied with a melody line quite similar to “The Lakes of Ponchartrain” / “Paddy’s Green Shamrock Shore”.

James Connolly

Where oh where is our James Connolly?
Where oh where is that gallant man?
He has gone to organise the union
That working men might yet be free

Where oh where is the Citizen Army?
Where oh where is that gallant band?
They´ve gone to join the Great Rebellion
And smash the bonds of slavery

Who´ll be there to lead the van?
And who´ll be there to lead the van?
Oh who should be there but our James Connolly
The hero of each working man

Who carries high our burning flag?
Who carries high our burning flag?
Oh who but James Connolly all pale and wounded
Who carries high our burning flag.

They carried him up to the jail
They carried him up to the jail
And there they shot him one bright May morning
And quickly laid him in his grave.

Who mourns now for our James Connolly?
Who mourns for that gallant man?
Oh lay me down in yon green garden
And make my bearers Union men

We laid him down in yon green garden
With Union men on every side
And we swore we would forge one mighty weapon
And fill that gallant man with pride

Where oh where is our James Connolly?
Where oh where is that gallant man?
He has gone to organise the union
That working men might yet be free

Erin-Go-Bragh

My name’s Duncan Campbell from the shire of Argyll
I’ve travelled this country the many’s the mile
I’ve travelled through Ireland, Scotland and all
And the name I go under’s bold Erin-go-bragh
With me folderol-diddle-i-derdil-i-day

One night in Auld Reekie as I walked down the street
A saucy big polis I chanced for to meet
He glowered in my face and he give me some jaw
Sayin’ “When cam’ ye over, bold Erin-go-bragh?”
With me folderol-diddle-i-derdil-i-day

“Well I am not a Pat though in Ireland I’ve been
Nor am I a Paddy though Ireland I’ve seen
But were I a Pat, now, well what’s that at all?
For there’s many’s the bold hero from Erin-go-bragh”
With me folderol-diddle-i-derdil-i-day

“Well I know you’re a Pat by the cut of your hair
But you all turn to Scotsmen as soon as you’re here
You left your ain country for breaking the law
And we’re seizing all stragglers from Erin-go-bragh”
With me folderol-diddle-i-derdil-i-day

“Were I a Pat and you knew it were true
Or were I the devil, then what’s that to you?
Were it not for the stick that you hold in your claw
I would show you a game played in Erin-go-bragh”
With me folderol-diddle-i-derdil-i-day

Then the big lump of blackthorn that I held in my fist
Around his big body I made it to twist
And the blood from his napper I quickly did draw
And paid him stock-and-interest for Erin-go-bragh
With me folderol-diddle-i-derdil-i-day

Then the people came around like a flock of wild geese
Crying “Catch that mad bastard, he’s killed the police”
for every friend I had I’ll swear he had twa
It was terrible hard times for Erin-go-bragh
With me folderol-diddle-i-derdil-i-day

But I came to a wee boat that sailed in the Forth
And I packed up my gear and I steered for the North
Fareweel to Auld Reekie, you polis and all
And the devil go with you, cries Erin-go-bragh
With me folderol-diddle-i-derdil-i-day

So come all you young people, wherever you’re from
I don’t give a damn to what place you belong
I come from Argyll in the Highlands so braw
But I ne’er took it ill being called Erin-go-bragh
With me folderol-diddle-i-derdil-i-day

Traditional

“Erin Go Bragh” is a Scottish song about the experience of Irish people in Britain. Although it is mainly associated with Dick Gaughan, Irvine first heard it sung by Ian ‘Jock’ Manuel in the Bluebell pub in Hull about 1964.