Simon Darkshade
Mysterious City of Gold
Finnegan's Wake
Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin' Street
A gentleman, Irish, mighty odd;
He had a brogue both rich and sweet
And to rise in the world he carried a hod.
Now Tim had a sort of the tipplin' way
With a love of the whiskey he was born
And to help him on with his work each day
He'd a "drop of the cray-thur" every morn.
cho Whack fol the darn O, dance to your partner
Whirl the floor, your trotters shake;
Wasn't it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake!
One mornin' Tim was feelin' full
His head was heavy which made him shake;
He fell from the ladder and broke his skull
And they carried him home his corpse to wake.
They rolled him up in a nice clean sheet
And laid him out upon the bed,
A gallon of whiskey at his feet
And a barrel of porter at his head.
cho:
His friends assembled at the wake
And Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch,
First they brought in tay and cake
Then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch.
Biddy O'Brien began to bawl
"Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see?
"O Tim, mavourneen, why did you die?"
Arragh, hold your gob said Paddy McGhee!
cho:
Then Maggie O'Connor took up the job
"O Biddy," says she, "You're wrong, I'm sure"
Biddy she gave her a belt in the gob
And left her sprawlin' on the floor.
And then the war did soon engage
'Twas woman to woman and man to man,
Shillelagh law was all the rage
And a row and a ruction soon began.
cho:
Then Mickey Maloney ducked his head
When a noggin of whiskey flew at him,
It missed, and falling on the bed
The liquor scattered over Tim!
The corpse revives! See how he raises!
Timothy rising from the bed,
Says,"Whirl your whiskey around like blazes
Thanum an Dhul! Do you thunk I'm dead?"
cho:
SEAN VAN VOGHT
"Oh! the French are on the sea," says the Sean van Voght,
"Oh! the French are on the sea," says the Sean van Voght,
"The French are in the Bay, they'll be here at break of day,
And the Orange will decay," says the Sean van Voght,
"And the Orange will decay," says the Sean van Voght.
"And where will they have their camp?" says the Sean van Voght,
"And where will they have their camp?" says the Sean van Voght.
"On the Curragh of Kildare and the boys will all be there
With their pikes in good repair." says the Sean van Voght,
"With their pikes in good repair." says the Sean van Voght
"And what will the yeomen do?" says the Sean van Voght,
"And what will the yeomen do?" says the Sean van Voght,
"What will the yeomen do but throw off the red and blue,
And swear they will be true to the Sean van Voght?
And swear they will be true to the Sean van Voght?"
"Then what colour will be seen?" says the Sean van Voght,
"Then what colour will be seen?" says the Sean van Voght,
"What colour should be seen where our fathers' homes have been
But our own immortal green? " says the Sean van Voght,
"But our own immortal green? " says the Sean van Voght.
"Will old Ireland then be free? " says the Sean van Voght,
"Will old Ireland then be free? " says the Sean van Voght,
"Old Ireland shall be free from the centre to the sea;
Then hurrah for liberty," says the Sean van Voght.
WILD COLONIAL BOY
There was a wild colonial youth, Jack Doolan was his name
Of poor but honest parents, he was born in Castlemaine
He was his father's only hope, his mother's only joy
The pride of both his parents was the wild colonial boy
Come all my hearties, we'll range the mountainside
Together we will plunder, together we will ride
We'll scour along the valleys and gallop o'er the plains
We'll scorn to live in slavery, bowed down in iron chains
In sixty-one this daring youth commenced his wild career
With a heart that knew no danger, no foeman did he fear
He held up the Beechworth mailcoach and he robbed Judge MacEvoy
Who trembled and gave up his gold to the wild colonial boy
One day as he was riding the mountainside along
Alistening to the little birds their pleasant laughing song
Three mounted troopers came in view - Kelly, Davis, and Fitzroy
And thought that they would capture him, the wild colonial boy
"Surrender now, Jack Doolan, you see there's three to one
Surrender now, Jack Doolan, you daring highwayman"
He drew a pistol from his belt and spun it like a toy
"I'll fight, but I won't surrender," said the wild colonial boy
He fired at trooper Kelly and brought him to the ground
And in return from Davis received a mortal wound
All shattered through the jaws, he lay still firing at Fitzroy
And that's the way they captured him, the wild colonial boy
THE BONNY YOUNG IRISH BOY
O first I came a-courted by a bonny young Irish b'y,
He called me all of his jewels, his sweetheart, pride and j'y;
'Twas in fair Dubelin city, a place so old and fair,
Where first I came a-courted by a bonny young Irish b'y.
His cheeks was of the roses and his hair was of the brown
And hung in ringlets heavy to his shoulders hanging down
His teeth was of an ivory white, his eyes was black as sloes;
He'd charm the heart of any fair girl, no matter where he goes.
Long time I keeped him company and hoped to be his bride
But now he is gone and leaved me, across the ocean wide.
Sure I'm afraid some other fair maid, my true love will enj'y
While I'm left here lamenting my bonny young Irish b'y.
So I'll pack all my clothing and in search of him I'll go,
I'll cross the wide, wide ocean through stormy winds and snow
And never shall I marry until the day I die,
So I'll die broken-hearted for my bonny young Irish b'y.
O comrades, I am dying! There's one more word I'll say
Take my bones to Ireland and bury them in the clay,
And write upon my tombstone to children passing by,
That I died broken-hearted for my bonny young Irish b'y.
Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin' Street
A gentleman, Irish, mighty odd;
He had a brogue both rich and sweet
And to rise in the world he carried a hod.
Now Tim had a sort of the tipplin' way
With a love of the whiskey he was born
And to help him on with his work each day
He'd a "drop of the cray-thur" every morn.
cho Whack fol the darn O, dance to your partner
Whirl the floor, your trotters shake;
Wasn't it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake!
One mornin' Tim was feelin' full
His head was heavy which made him shake;
He fell from the ladder and broke his skull
And they carried him home his corpse to wake.
They rolled him up in a nice clean sheet
And laid him out upon the bed,
A gallon of whiskey at his feet
And a barrel of porter at his head.
cho:
His friends assembled at the wake
And Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch,
First they brought in tay and cake
Then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch.
Biddy O'Brien began to bawl
"Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see?
"O Tim, mavourneen, why did you die?"
Arragh, hold your gob said Paddy McGhee!
cho:
Then Maggie O'Connor took up the job
"O Biddy," says she, "You're wrong, I'm sure"
Biddy she gave her a belt in the gob
And left her sprawlin' on the floor.
And then the war did soon engage
'Twas woman to woman and man to man,
Shillelagh law was all the rage
And a row and a ruction soon began.
cho:
Then Mickey Maloney ducked his head
When a noggin of whiskey flew at him,
It missed, and falling on the bed
The liquor scattered over Tim!
The corpse revives! See how he raises!
Timothy rising from the bed,
Says,"Whirl your whiskey around like blazes
Thanum an Dhul! Do you thunk I'm dead?"
cho:
SEAN VAN VOGHT
"Oh! the French are on the sea," says the Sean van Voght,
"Oh! the French are on the sea," says the Sean van Voght,
"The French are in the Bay, they'll be here at break of day,
And the Orange will decay," says the Sean van Voght,
"And the Orange will decay," says the Sean van Voght.
"And where will they have their camp?" says the Sean van Voght,
"And where will they have their camp?" says the Sean van Voght.
"On the Curragh of Kildare and the boys will all be there
With their pikes in good repair." says the Sean van Voght,
"With their pikes in good repair." says the Sean van Voght
"And what will the yeomen do?" says the Sean van Voght,
"And what will the yeomen do?" says the Sean van Voght,
"What will the yeomen do but throw off the red and blue,
And swear they will be true to the Sean van Voght?
And swear they will be true to the Sean van Voght?"
"Then what colour will be seen?" says the Sean van Voght,
"Then what colour will be seen?" says the Sean van Voght,
"What colour should be seen where our fathers' homes have been
But our own immortal green? " says the Sean van Voght,
"But our own immortal green? " says the Sean van Voght.
"Will old Ireland then be free? " says the Sean van Voght,
"Will old Ireland then be free? " says the Sean van Voght,
"Old Ireland shall be free from the centre to the sea;
Then hurrah for liberty," says the Sean van Voght.
WILD COLONIAL BOY
There was a wild colonial youth, Jack Doolan was his name
Of poor but honest parents, he was born in Castlemaine
He was his father's only hope, his mother's only joy
The pride of both his parents was the wild colonial boy
Come all my hearties, we'll range the mountainside
Together we will plunder, together we will ride
We'll scour along the valleys and gallop o'er the plains
We'll scorn to live in slavery, bowed down in iron chains
In sixty-one this daring youth commenced his wild career
With a heart that knew no danger, no foeman did he fear
He held up the Beechworth mailcoach and he robbed Judge MacEvoy
Who trembled and gave up his gold to the wild colonial boy
One day as he was riding the mountainside along
Alistening to the little birds their pleasant laughing song
Three mounted troopers came in view - Kelly, Davis, and Fitzroy
And thought that they would capture him, the wild colonial boy
"Surrender now, Jack Doolan, you see there's three to one
Surrender now, Jack Doolan, you daring highwayman"
He drew a pistol from his belt and spun it like a toy
"I'll fight, but I won't surrender," said the wild colonial boy
He fired at trooper Kelly and brought him to the ground
And in return from Davis received a mortal wound
All shattered through the jaws, he lay still firing at Fitzroy
And that's the way they captured him, the wild colonial boy
THE BONNY YOUNG IRISH BOY
O first I came a-courted by a bonny young Irish b'y,
He called me all of his jewels, his sweetheart, pride and j'y;
'Twas in fair Dubelin city, a place so old and fair,
Where first I came a-courted by a bonny young Irish b'y.
His cheeks was of the roses and his hair was of the brown
And hung in ringlets heavy to his shoulders hanging down
His teeth was of an ivory white, his eyes was black as sloes;
He'd charm the heart of any fair girl, no matter where he goes.
Long time I keeped him company and hoped to be his bride
But now he is gone and leaved me, across the ocean wide.
Sure I'm afraid some other fair maid, my true love will enj'y
While I'm left here lamenting my bonny young Irish b'y.
So I'll pack all my clothing and in search of him I'll go,
I'll cross the wide, wide ocean through stormy winds and snow
And never shall I marry until the day I die,
So I'll die broken-hearted for my bonny young Irish b'y.
O comrades, I am dying! There's one more word I'll say
Take my bones to Ireland and bury them in the clay,
And write upon my tombstone to children passing by,
That I died broken-hearted for my bonny young Irish b'y.
