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If you're traveling in the north country fair
Where the wind stands heavy on the borderline Remember me to one who lives there For she once was a true love of mine If you go when the snowflakes storm When rivers freeze and summer ends Please see if she has a coat so warm To keep her from the howling winds Please see for me if her hair hangs long If it rolls and flows all down her breast Please see for me if her hair hangs long For that's the way I remember her best I wonder if she remembers me at all Day and night I've often prayed In the darkness of my night And in the brightness of my day |
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| 3. |
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There's naught but care on every hand
In every hour that passes oh What signifies the life of man If it were not for the lassies oh Chorus (after each verse): Green grow the rushes oh Green grow the rushes oh The sweetest hours that ever I spent Are spent among the lassies oh The worldly race may riches chase And riches still may fly them oh And though at last they catch them fast Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them oh Give me a cannie hour at e'en My arms around my dearie oh The wisest man the world e'er saw He dearly loved the lassies oh Old nature swears the lovely dears Her noblest work she classes oh Her apprentice hand she tried on man Then she made the lassies oh Green grow the rushes Green grow the rushes |
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Suil ghorm, uisce fomhair
Craiceann chailce, sneachta gheimhridh Folt fonn, corna shamhraidh Cumha poige, blath an earraigh Your blue eyes, autumn water Pure white skin like winter snow Your fair hair, summer barley Scented kisses, spring flowers Ar imeall na mara a ghluais muid le cheile Is thog muid ar nglorthai go hard leis na speartha Ceo maidne, seidean gaoithe Anam saortha, sruth 's taoide Gealach iomlan, spear na hoiche Loinnear realta, aoibh an ghaire Your smile shines through the morning mist Lifts the soul light as a feather And the moon glows in the darkest night Distant stars are yours forever Ar imeall na mara a ghluais muid le cheile Is thog muid ar nglorthai go hard leis na speartha Suil ghorm, uisce fomhair Craiceann chailce, sneachta gheimhridh Folt fonn, corna shamhraidh Cumha poige, blath an earraigh |
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I wish my love was a red, red rose growing in yon garden fair
And I to be the gardener, of her I would take care There's not a month throughout the year, that my love I'd renew I'd garnish her with flowers fine, sweet William, Thyme and Rue I wish I was a butterfly, I'd light on my love's breast And if I was a blue cuckoo, I'd sing my love to rest And if I was a nightingale, I'd sing the daylight clear I'd sit and sing for you, Molly, for once I loved you dear I wish I was in Dublin town and seated on the grass In my right hand, a jug of punch, and on my knee, a lass I'd call for liquor freely and I'd pay before I'd go I'd roll my Molly in my arms, let the wind blow high or low |
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This pretty young maid I seek far and wide
My heartache each morn with her I don't meet When I go to the bar, the dance hall or fete But I'd follow her trail in the dead of the night Chorus: Now you're the young man that travels afar Find me a gem I can have as my wife Never yearn or pine for flocks or for kine And I'll conjure plan that will charm her life Have her youthful and fair with no worry or care Patient and wise in affairs of all kind Modest and mild, without too much pride That is my love if she hadn't a dime (Chorus) Let no blemish or shame be attached to her name Honest in heart and gentle in mien No hatred or vice to be heard in her voice But cheerful and smiling from morning 'til night (Chorus) And I'll charm her life |
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Fare you well, my own true love
Farewell for a while I am going away but I'll be back If I go ten thousand miles Ten thousand miles, my own true love Ten thousand miles or more And the rocks may melt and the seas may burn If I no more return Oh don't you see yon lonesome dove Sitting on yon ivy tree She is weeping for her own true love As I shall weep for mine Oh come back, my own true love And stay a while with me If I had a friend all on this earth You have been a friend to me |
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A moment in time, rosin the bow
Sound the strings of years ago A sunlit room at Glenties fair A traveller plays a haunting air A story told, the laughter peel The fiddler strikes another reel The music lifts, the tapping toe The listeners call for "Sean sa Cheo" Feel his art lift the heart Sense the spirits rise and fall A fiddler plays in Donegal The story resounds, the tune rings on The given note, the given song And now a child lifts the master's bow A moment in time from years ago Feel his art lift the heart Sense the spirits rise and fall A fiddler plays in Donegal |
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