JOHN FRANCOIS
(Hilliard Chanty)
Boney was a warrior,
Away-i-oh;
Boney was a warrior,
John Francois.
Boney fought the Proosh-i-ans,
Away-i-oh;
Boney fought the Proosh-i-ans,
John Francois.
Boney fought the Roosh-i-ans,
Away-i-oh;
Boney fought the Roosh-i-ans,
John Francois.
Drive her, captain, drive her,
Away-i-oh;
Drive her, captain, drive her,
John Francois.
Give her the top-gallant sails,
Away-i-oh;
Give her the top-gallant sails,
John Francois.
It's a weary way to Baltimore,
Away-i-oh;
It's a weary way to Baltimore,
John Francois.
The drivers in the sunset race
Their coal-carts over cobble-stones:
Not draymen now but charioteers;
Their bags are left with Smith and Jones
They let the horses take their stride
Which toss their forelocks in their pride.
Nor green nor blue these faction wear
That make career o'er Dublin stones
But Pluto his own livery
Is what each whip-carrier owns.
The Caesar of the cab-rank I
Now bless the triumph hurtling by !
Eoin Mac Eoin.
THE LONE WOMAN
When sleep would settle on me,
Like the wild bird down on the nest
The wind tears out of the West.
It batters the door, maybe,
And chases away my rest
When sleep would settle on me.
Oul' man, you built on the lea
Your house, and its door to the sea
With every bad tool in the chest.
Ochon, there's the wind on my breast,
It tears at the door, d'ye see
And batters away my rest,
When sleep would settle on me,
Like the wild bird down on the nest!
Oul' man, may you lie with the blest!
Padraic Colum
A LONG TIME AGO
(Hilliards Chanty)
A long, long time, and a long time ago,
To me way hay, Ohio;
A long, long time, and a long time ago,
A long time ago.
A Smart Yankee packet lay out in the bay,
To me way hay, Ohio;
A-waiting for a fair wind to get under way,
A long time ago.
With all her poor sailors all sick and all sore,
To me way hay, Ohio;
For they'd drunk all their lime-juice, and could get no more,
A long time ago.
With all her poor sailors all sick and all sad,
To me way hay, Ohio;
For they'd drunk all their lime-juice, and no more could be had,
A long time ago.
She was waiting for a fair wind to get under way,
To me way hay, Ohio;
She was waiting for a fair wind to get under way,
A long time ago.
If she hasn't had a fair wind she's lying there still,
To me way hay, Ohio;
If she hasn't had a fair wind she's lying there still,
A long time ago.
TREASURE
A down a down a derry,
It's far to Prince's Pier
And pay-day's once a year.
So how can we be merry
A-fisting canvas here?
As Theodore pulled on his trews,
(Oh ho the Gara River)
The scarlet trews that pirates use
To make the merchants shiver.
He found a purse in the lining stuck,
(Aha the main top bowling)
Which he had sneaked from a negro buck
The last time they were coaling.
He sang, he danced, he merrily hallooed,
A down a down a derry;
'Oh a penny saved is a penny to the good,
And therefore let's be merry.'
UP!
A Vernal ODE
'Tis spring- and blithe from spray to spray
The winged musicians hop,
Uniting in a roundelay
As if they all were - Up.
Each plant erects its pendent head,
Each flower expands its cup;
The very weeds in every bed
Set impudently - Up.
There's not a tree in wood or grove
That waves its branchy top,
Which does not hoist the badge of love
And union boldly - Up.
The brambles on the highway side,
A numerous, hardy crop,
So long kept down by winter's pride,
Spring amicably - Up.
The tenants of the crystal stream
Their heads above it pop!
As if they wanted to exclaim,
'See, Neighbours, we are - Up.'
Each hill now cocks its crest on high
As any martial fop,
While every valley seems to cry,
'Come down, and help us - Up.'
The progress of this rising rage,
No human power can stop-
Then, Tyrants, cease your war to wage;
FOR NATURE WILL BE- Up.
DIE WE MUST
Die we must and go to dust,
But let us all be merry;
Let us drink the cocktail down
And let us eat the cherry.
Though we win across the sea,
Let us not be tired;
Yon's the blue and hazy line
Of the lands desired.
Fill the jolly bowl again,
And to hell with sorrow;
We may be the lucky men
At the cards to-morrow.
Darkness brings another day,
So let us sing a chorus;
Though we reach the edge of earth,
There's the sea before us.
White are all the cities there,
All the streets are golden;
All the bonny maids are fair,
Only unbeholden.
Aft the sheet and let her ride
From Vallipo to Trond-em;
Seas are salt and seas are wide,
But the land's beyond them.
Blue and slapping run the waves,
Ebbing out or flowing;
Let us go to life or graves,
Let's at least be going.
Wolfe T. McGowan
THE COMING OF SPRING
From the Irish of Raftery's 'County Mayo' by Padraic Colum
Now, coming on Spring the days will be growing,
And after Saint Bride's day my sail I will throw,
Since the thought has come to me I fain would be going
Till I stand in the middle of the County Mayo.
The first of my days will be spent in Claremorris,
And in Balla down from it I'll have drinking and sport;
To Kiltimagh then I shall go on a visit,
And there, I can tell you, a month will be short.
I solemnly swear that the heart in me rises
As the wind rises up and the mist breaks below;
When I think upon Carra and Gallen down from it,
The Bush of the Mile and the Plains of Mayo.
Killeadean's my village and every good's in it,
There's blackberries, rasberries and all kinds of fruit.
And if Raftery stood in the midst of his people,
Old age would go from him and he'd be in his youth.