Song Lyrics
BRENNAN ON THE MOOR
'Tis of a brave young highwayman this story I will tell,
His name was Willie Brennan and in Ireland he did dwell.
'Twas on the Kilwood Mountain he commenced his wild career,
Where many a gallant gentleman before him shook with fear.
Chorus:
Bold Brennan on the moor, Brennan on the moor
A brave undaunted robber was young Brennan on the moor
A brace of loaded pistols he carried night and day,
He robbed a poor man upon the King's Highway,
For what he'd taken from the rich, like Turpin and Black Bess,
He always did divide it with the widows in distress.
One night he robbed a packman, by the name of Juler Bawn,
They traveled on together 'till the day began to dawn;
The Juler found his money gone, likewise his watch and chain,
He at once encountered Brennan & he robbed him back again.
When Willie found the Juler was as good a man as he,
He took him on the Highway his companion for to be;
The Juler threw away his pack without anymore delay,
And prove a faithful comrade until his dying day.
It happened on a certain day, as he was riding down
He met the mayor of Cashiell a mile outside of town;
The mayor he knew his features; he said, 'Young man', said he
'Your name is Willie Brennan, you must come along with me'.
Now Willie's wife had gone to town provisions for to buy,
When she saw her Willie taken she began to weep and cry;
Says he, 'Give me a tenpenny', as ever as he spoke
She handed him a blunderbuss from underneath her cloak
So with the loaded blunderbuss - the truth I will unfold,
He made the Mayor to tremble and he robbed him of his gold;
One hundred pounds was offered for his apprehension there,
But he with horse and saddle to the mountains did repair.
Then Brennan being an outlaw upon the mountains high,
With cavalry and infantry to take him they did try;
He laughed at them and scorn at them, until at length 'tis said,
By a false-hearted woman he basely was betrayed
In the County Tipperary in a place they call Clonmore,
Brennan and his comrade were made to suffer sore;
He lay amongst the bracken that grew thick upon the field,
And nine deep wounds he did receive before that he would yield.
When Brennan and his comrade found that they were betrayed
They with the mount cavalry a gallant battle made;
He lost his foremost finger which was shot off by a ball,
So Brennan and his comrade were taken after all.
When they were taken prisoners, in irons they were bound
And both conveyed to Clonmel jail, strong walls did them surround;
The jury found them guilty, the judge made this reply:
'For robbing on the King's highway you're both condemned to die'.
When Brennan heard his sentence, he made this reply;
'I own that I did rob the rich, and the poor supply;
In all the deeds that I have done I took no life away:
May the Lord have mercy on my soul against the judgment-day.
'Farewell unto my loving wife and to my children three
Likewise my aged father - he may shed tears for me:
And to my gray-haired mother - in sorrow she did cry,
It would be better Willie Brennan if in the cradle you had died'.
They hanged Brennan at the cross-roads, in chains he hung and dried
But still they say that, in the night, some do see him ride
They see him with his blunderbuss, all in the midnight chill
Along, along the King's highway rides Willie Brennan still!
THE BRIG O' STIRLING
Doon by Stirling Brig, the Wallace lay in hiding
As the Englishmen, frae the south came riding
Loud the river Forth, between them baith was gurling
Gurling oot o' sicht, below the Brig O Stirling
Watching frae the wood, the Wallace and the Moray
As the English Cam' wi' the Earl O' Surrey
Ane by ane they crossed, a' the brig was filling
Still they onward cam' o'er the Brig O' Stirling
Wallace gave the shout, oot his men cam running
Stopped the English host on the Brig O' Stirling
Cressingham turned round, the brig was sma' for turning
Moray cut him down on the Brig O' Stirling
All the English men ran intae each other
Nane could turn about, nane could gae much further
Some fell o'er the side in the Forth was drowning
Some were left tae dee on the Brig O' Stirling
Surrey he was wild, could nae ford the river
Wished wi' all his mecht that the brig was bigger
Then he rade awa, loud the man was cursin'
He'd lost a' his men, and the Brig o' Stirling.
BRIGHT BLUE ROSE
(Jimmy McCarthy)
I skimmed across Blackwater,
Without once submerging onto the banks of an urban morning
That hungers the first light, much much—more then the mountains ever do
And she like a ghost beside me, goes down with the ease of a dolphin
And emerges unlearned, untamed, unharmed
For she is a perfect creature, natural in every feature
And I am the geek, with the alchemist's stone
For all of you who must discover, for all of you who understand
For having found the path of others, you find a very special hand
And it is a holy thing, and it is a precious time and it is the only way
Forget-me-nots among the snow, it's always been and so it goes
To ponder his life and his death eternally
One bright blue rose
Outlives all those
Two thousands years and so it goes
To ponder his life and his death eternally
BRING THEM HOME
In the jail that held McSwinney In that prison where he died
There lie two daughters of old Ireland and they fill my heart with pride
For I know England wishes that we'd let them die alone
But the voice of Dear old Ireland cries for us to bring them home
Chorus
Here it ring on the air, it's the voice of my country so fair
Can't you feel? Can't you see? Irishmen will set them free
'Twas for loving dear old Ireland brought them to their prison hell
But the ghost of Pearse and Connolly fill there lonely prison cell
Clarke and Plunkett stand beside them McDonnagh, McDermott and Wolfe Tone
But the voice of Dear old Ireland cries for us to bring them home
So I pray young men of Ireland Don't betray our daughters true
Proudly stand behind our heroes blessed they died for you and me
Though the tyrant would deny us we can break their hearts of stone
And all the voices will be singing when we bring our daughters home
THE BROAD BLACK BRIMMER
There's a uniform that's hanging in what's known as father's room
A uniform so simple in its style,
It has no braid of silk or gold, no hat with feathered plume,
Yet me mother has preserved it all the while
One day she made me try it on, a wish of mine for years
'Just in memory of your father Sean,' she said
And when I put the Sam Brown on, she smiling through her tears
As she place the broad black brimmer on me head
Chorus:
It's just a broad black brimmer, its ribbon frayed and torn
By the careless whisk of manys a mountain breeze
And old trench coat that's all battered stained and worn
And breeches almost threadbare at the knee
A Sam Brown belt with a buckle big and strong
And a holster that's been empty manys the day, but not for long
And when men claim Ireland's freedom, the one they'll chose to lead 'em
Will wear the broad black brimmer of the IRA
It was the uniform been worn by me father long ago
When he reach me mother's homestead on the run
It was the uniform me father wore in the little church below
When Father Mick he blessed the pair as one
And after truce and treaty and the parting of ways
He wore when he marched out with the rest, and the best
And when they bore his body down, that rugged heather braes
The placed the broad black brimmer on his breast
Chorus
Now that was many a day before and manys a fight between
And since that day I've grown from boy to man
And those who want our freedom are still fighting Erin's war
For the trouble is not over in the land
So like my father before me, and his oul' father too
I marched out with lads to join the fray
Pledged to Ireland's freedom and a bold Republic too
In the uniform of the IRA
Chorus
Recordings include: The Wolfe Tones' "Rifles of the IRA" 1969; Live alive-oh! 1980; "25th Anniversary" 1989.
BROOM O' THE COWDENKNOWS
How blyth was I ilk morn to see my swain come o're the hill;
He leap'd the burn and flew to me. I met him will good will,
O, the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom o' the cowden knowes;
I wish I were wi' my dear swain, wi' his pipe and my ewes.
I neither wanted ewe nor lamb, while his flock near me lay;
He gather'd in my sheep at night, and cheer'd me a' the day.
O, the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom o' the cowden knowes;
I wish I were wi' my dear swain, wi' his pipe and my ewes.
He tun'd his pipe and played sae sweet, the birds sat list'ning by;
E'en the dull cattle stood and gaz'd, charm'd with his melody.
O, the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom o' the cowden knowes;
I wish I were wi' my dear swain, wi' his pipe and my ewes.
While thus we spent our time by turns, betwixt our flocks and play,
I envied not the fairest dame, though ne'er sae rich and gay.
O, the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom o' the cowden knowes;
I wish I were wi' my dear swain, wi' his pipe and my ewes.
Hard fate that I should banish'd be, gang heavily and mourn,
Because I lov'd the kindest swain, that ever yet was born.
O, the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom o' the cowden knowes;
I wish I were wi' my dear swain, wi' his pipe and my ewes.
He did oblige he every hour, could I but faithful be?
He staw my heart, could I refuse, whate'er he ask'd of me?
O, the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom o' the cowden knowes;
I wish I were wi' my dear swain, wi' his pipe and my ewes.
My doggie and my little kit, yhat held my wee sop whey,
My plaidie, brooch, and crooked stick, may now lie useless by.
O, the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom o' the cowden knowes;
I wish I were wi' my dear swain, wi' his pipe and my ewes.
Adieu, ye Cowdenknowes, adieu, farewell, a' pleasures there;
Ye gods, restore me to my swain, is a' I crave or care.
O, the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom o' the cowden knowes;
I wish I were wi' my dear swain, wi' his pipe and my ewes.
BUILDING UP AND TEARING ENGLAND DOWN
(Dominic Behan)
Oh I've won the hero's name with McAlpine and Costain
With Fitzpatrick Murphy, Ash and Wimpy's gang
I've off and on the road on me way to draw the dole
When there's nothing left to do for Johnny Lang
And I used to think that God made the mixer pick and hod
So that Paddy might know hell above the ground
I've had gangers big and tough tell me tear it all old gruff
When you're building up and tearing England down
In a tunnel under ground a young Limerick man was found
He was built into the New Victoria Line
When the boneless gang and past sticking from the concrete cast
Was face of little Charlie Joe Devine
And the ganger man McGurk said big Paddy hates the work
When the gas main blew and he flew off the ground
Oh they swore he said don't slack I'll not be long before I'm back
Keep on building up and tearing England down
I was on the shuddering jam on the day that Jack McCann
Got the better of his stammer in a week
He fell from the shuddering jam when that poor old stuttering man
He was never ever more inclined to speak
And I saw old Balls McCall from a high fly over fall
Into a concrete mixer spinning round
Though it wasn't his intent he got a fine head of cement
When he was building up and tearing England down
I remember Carrier Jack with his hod upon his back
How he swore one day he'd set the world on fire
But his face they've never seen since his shovel it cut clean
Through the middle of the big high tension wires
For no more like Robin Hood will we roam through Crickelwood
Or dance around the pubs in Camden town
Oh but let no man complain sure no Pat can die in vain
When he's building up and tearing England down
So come all you Navvy's bold do not think that English gold
Is just waiting to be taken from each sod
For the likes of you and me will never get an OBE
Or a knighthood for good service to the hod
If the concrete master race were to keep you in your place
And a ganger man to kick you to the ground
If you ever try to take part of what the bosses make
When you're building up and tearing England down
A BUNCH OF THYME
Come all ye maidens young and fair
All you that are blooming in your prime
Always beware and keep your garden fair
Let no man steal away your thyme
Chorus:
For thyme it is a precious thing
And thyme brings all things to my mind
Oh thyme with all its labors, along with all its joys
Thyme brings all things to my mind
Once I had a bunch of thyme
I thought it never would decay
But on came a lusty sailor, who chanced to pass that way
He stole my bunch of thyme away
The sailor gave to me a rose
A rose that never would decay
He gave it to me to keep me well minded
Of when he stole my thyme away
Come all ye maidens young and fair
All you that are blooming in your prime
Always beware and keep your garden fair
Let no man steal away your thyme
Chorus:
For thyme it is a precious thing
And thyme brings all things to my mind
Oh thyme with all its labors, along with all its joys
Thyme brings all things to my mind
BURGHEAD SANDS
(Gordon Menzies)
Come again, come again ye Burghead men
And sail wi' the mornin' tide
Come again, come again through the wind and the rain
To the place where you'll always bide
Chorus:
And you know if stand of the Burghead sand
All the years be ten times ten
You'll aye be a slave to the ocean wave
Till your back on the sea once again
When the fishing's done, the harvest won
Take oot your boat tae Skye
Tae the harbor gate, where the woman wait
Till you're safely by their side
Chorus
Till your back on the sea once again
Born in the wee of the great North Sea
Where the weepin' willows laughed
Married at birth to the Moray Firth
And the deck o' a fishin' craft
Chorus
Till your back on the sea once again
Come again, come again ye Burghead men
Tae the Broch(?) where you'll aye belong
To the Dewar's(?) Well, the Claive's smell
And the Oyster's catchers song
Chorus
BURKE AND HARE
(Robin Laing)
Chorus:
Burke and Hare were a terrible pair, their deeds were beyond belief
They worked underground in Edinburgh town, the cruelest kind of thief
Aye they stole the lives of the city's poor, the city's waifs and strays
Got them drunk and tied them tae a bunk and smothered the lives away
And in the Tanner's Close in the old Westport, those rottens had their lair
And manys a wretch from there was fetched in a box up to Surgeon's Square
For ten pounds each was the priced they reached for the contents of every box
And they denied folks lives to satisfy knives of anatomist Dr. Knox
Chorus
So sixteen souls departed this world at the hands of the villainous crew
"Well it sure beats work", says lazy bugger Burke and Hare took a similar view
But there evil ways and their drunken days, very soon were cut short
For they grew to smart and let down their guard and very soon they were caught
Chorus
Ah, but William Hare he took a terrible scare, he turned super-grass with glee
He snitched on mate and left him to his fate, while he got away Scot free
But William Burke he dangled and jerked as the hangman ended his life
And in a final twist that famed anatomist cut him up with his surgeon's knife
Chorus
For they stole the lives of the city's poor, the city's waifs and strays
Got them drunk and tied them tae a bunk and smothered the lives away
The swine, smothered the lives away
BURKE AND HARE [2]
(Traditional)
Tae help the folk in medical school, word is passed around
A body nae mair than ten days auld will bring in fourteen pound.
It's a terrible thing, but truth tae say—in this age o' greed
A man's worth little when he's alive, but plenty when he's deid.
Chorus:
An' it's doon the close an' up the stair a but-an'-ben wi' Burke and Hare
Burke's the butcher, Hare's the thief and Knox is the man that buys the beef.
So in the dark of mony a nicht, when a' guid folks are sleeping
By the dyke and in the kirkyard come twa shadows creeping.
An' mony a man that's cauld richt thru an' safely hid away
He never thocht it wisnae the last he'd see the licht o'day.
But no contented wi' howkin' deid, a ploy that aye gets harder
They've started pickin' healthy folk, and then committin' murder.
An' a' arood the countryside creeps a fearsome pair—
Be ye man or wife or wean, ye're nae safe from Burke and Hare.
Chorus
Men and women, auld and young, the sickly and the hale
Were murdered, packed up and sent off tae Knox's human sale.
That man o' skill wi' subjects warm was frequently supplied,
Nor did he question where or how the person brought had died.
Chorus
But noo auld Reekie can sleep at last; these two will trade nae mair
It's the gallows tree for William Burke, and a pauper's grave for Hare.
It's a terrible thing, but truth tae say—in this age o' greed
A man's worth little when he's alive, but plenty when he's deid.
Chorus
THE BUTTON PUSHER
(Enoch Kent)
Chorus:
I am the man, the well fed man, in charge of the terrible knob
The most pleasing thing about it, it's almost a permanent job
When the Atom war is over and the world is split in three
A consolation I've got, well maybe it's not,
There'll be nobody left but me
I sit at me desk in Washington in charge of this great machine
More vicious than Adolf Hitler, more deadly than strychnine
And in the evening after a tiring day just to give meself laugh
I hit the button a playful belt and I listen for a blast
Chorus
If Brezhnev starts his nonsense and makes a nasty smell
With a wink and a nod from Nixon I'll blast them all to hell
And as for that fella Castro—him with his sugar cane
He needn't hide behind his whiskers—I'll get him just same
Chorus
If me wife denies me conjugal rights or me breakfast is sour
From eight to nine in the morning you're for nervous hour
The Button being so terribly close it's really a dreadful joke
I'll part with arse as I go past and we'll all go up in smoke
Chorus
Now I'm thinking of joining the Army, the Army that bans the bomb
We take up a large collection and I'll donate me thumb
For without it I am helpless and that's the way to be
You don't have to kill the whole bloody to make the people free
Chorus