The Green Fields of France

Well, how do you do, young Willie McBride,
Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside,
And rest for a while neath the warm summer sun,
I've been working all day and I'm nearly done.
I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen,
When you joined the great fallen in nineteen sixteen,
I hope you died well and I hope you died clean,
Or young Willie McBride was it slow and obscene.
Did they beat the drum slowly, did they play the life lowly.
Did they sound the dead march as they lowered you down,
And did the band play the Last Post and chorus,
Did the pipes play the Floulrs of the Forest.
Did you leave ore a wife or a sweetheart behind, 
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined. 
Although you died back in nineteen sixteen, In that faithful heart are you forever nineteen. 
Or are you a stranger without even a name, Enclosed and forever behind the glass pane,
In an old photograph, torn and battered and stained And faded to yellow in a brown leather frame. 
The sun now it shines on the green fields of France
There's a warm summer breeze, it makes the red poppies dance. 
And look how the sun shines from under the clouds
There's no gas, no barbed wire, no guns firing now. 
But here in this graveyard it's still no-man's-land. 
The countless white crosses stand mute in the sand, 
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man, 
To a whole generation that were butchered and damned. 
Now young Willie McBride I can't help but wonder why 
Do all those who lie here know why they died
And did they believe when they answered the cause 
did they really believe that this war would end wars. 
Well the sorrows, the suffering, the glory, the pain, 
the killing, and dying was all done in vain...
For young Willie McBride it all happened again, and again, and again, and again, and again



Spancil Hill

Last night as I lay dreaming
Of pleasant days gone by
My mind being bent on rambling
To Ireland I did fly
I stepped aboard a vision
And I followed with the wind
Oh the next I came to anchor
At the cross in Spancil Hill
Being on the twenty-third of June
The day before the fair
When Ireland's sons and daughters
In crowds assembled there
The young, the old, the brave and the bold
Came their duties to fulfill
At the parish church near Clooney
A mile from Spancil Hill
I went to see my neighbours
To see what they might say
The old ones were all dead and gone
The young ones turning grey
I met with the Taylor Quigley
He's as bold as ever still
Oh he used to make me britches
When I lived in Spancil Hill
I paid a flying visit
To my first and only love
She's as white as any lily
As gentle as a dove
She threw her arms around me
Saying "Johnny, I love you still"
Oh she's yet the farmer's daughter
And the pride of Spancil Hill
I dreamt I knelt and kissed her
As in the days of yore
"Oh Johnny, you're only joking
As many's the time before"
When the cock he crew in the morning
Though he crew both loud and shrill
It's when I woke in California
Many miles from Spancil Hill


Oíche Chiúin


Oíche chiúin, oíche Mhic Dé,         
 Cách 'na suan dís araon,             
 Dís is dílse 'faire le spéis         
 Naoín beag gnaoigheal                 
   ceananntais caomh                   
   Críost, 'na chodhladh go séimh 
   Críost, 'na chodhladh go séimh 
 Oíche chiúin, oíche Mhic Dé 
 Aoirí ar dtús chuala 'n scéal;       
 Allelúia aingeal ag glaoch.          .
 Cantain suairc i ngar is i gcéin     .
   Críost an Slánaitheoir Féin      
   Críost an Slánaitheoir Féin         


O Peggy Gordon, You are my darling
Come sit you down upon my knee
And tell to me the very reason
Why I am slighted so by thee
I am so deep in love that I can't deny it
My heart lies smothered in my breast
But it's not for you to let the whole world know it
A troubled mind can find no rest
I leaned myself on a cask of brandy
It was my fancy, I do declare
For when I'm drinking, I'm always thinking
Wishing Peggy Gordon was there
I wished I was in a lonesome valley
Where womankind cannot be found
And the pretty little birds do change their voices
And every moment a different sound
I wish I was away in Ingo
Far away across the briny sea
Sailing over deepest waters
Where love nor care never trouble me