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Easy and Slow ‘Twas down by Christchurch I first met with Annie - A neat little girl, and not a bit shy, She told me her father, who came from Dungannon, Would take her back home in the sweet bye and bye. And what’s it to any man, whether or no, Whether I’m easy, or whether I’m true? As I lifted her petticoat easy and slow, And I tied up my sleeve for to buckle her shoe. Now, from city or country, a girl is a jewel, And well made for gripping sure most of them are, But any young man, he is really a fool If he tries for the first time to go a bit far. We wandered by Thomas Street down to the Liffey, The daylight was fading, as the evening grew dark, And down by Kingsbridge, and begod! in a jiffy My arm was around her, beyond in the Park. So, if you should go to the town of Dungannon, You may search till your eyeballs are empty or blind, Be you sitting, or standing, or courting or sporting, A girl like my Annie yez never will find. The Banks of the Bann When first unto this country a stranger I came I placed my affection on a maid that was young, She being young & tender, her waist small & clender, Kind nature had formed her for my overthrow. On the banks of the Bann, where I first beheld her She appeared like fair Juno, or a Grecian queen, Her eyes shone like diamonds, her hair softly twining, Her cheeks were like roses or blood drops in snow. It was her cruel parents that first caused our variance, All because I was poor and of a low degree, But I'll do my endeavor to gain my love's favor, Although she comes from a rich family. My name is Delaney, that's a name that won't shame me, And if I had saved money, I'd have plenty in store, But drinking & courting, nightrambling & sporting Are the cause of my ruin and absence from home. Had I all the money that's in the West Indies, Or had I the gold of the African shore, I'd spend it on pearls and on you, my brown girl, For there's no other love on the earth I adore. Since I have gained her, I'm contented for life, I'll put rings on her fingers and gold in her ears, And we'll live on the banks of the lovely Bann river, And in all sorts of splendor I will style her my dear. Buachaill Ón Éirne Buachaill ón Éirne mé's bhréagfainn cailín deas óg, Ní fhiarfainn bó spré léi, táimse féin saibhir go leor, 'S liom Corcaigh dá mhéad é, is dhá thaobh a' ghleanna, 's Tír Eoghain, 'S mura n-aithraigh mé béasa's mé an t-aidhir ar chontae Mhuigheo. Rachfaidh mé amárach ag déanamh leanna fán choill, Gan coite, gan bád, gan gráinín breac ar bith liom, Ach duilliúr na gcraobh mar éadaigh leaba ós mo chionn, 's óró sheacht m'anam déag thú, 's tú ag féachaint orm anall. Buachailleacht bó, mo leo, nár chleacht mise riamh, Ach ag imirt 's ag ól le h-ógmhná deasa ón sliabh, Má chaill mé mo stór, ní móide gur chaill mé mo chiall, Is ní mó liom do phóg ná an bhróg atáim ag caitheamh le bliain. A chúisle 's a stór, ná pós an seanduine liath, Ach pós an fear óg, mo leo, mura maire sé ach bliain, Nó beidh tú go fóill gan uadh nó mac ós do chionn A shílfeadh aon deor ort tráthnóna nó ar maidin go trom. The Cuckoo The cuckoo, she's a pretty bird, she sings as she flies, She brings us glad tidings, and she tells us no lies, She suck all the pretty flowers to make her voice clear, And she never sings 'cuckoo' till the spring of the year. Come all you young women, take warning by me, Never place your affections on the love of a man, For the roots they will wither, the branches decay, He'll turn his back on you and walk square away. A meeting, it's a pleasure, and a parting is a grief, But an inconstant lover is worse than a thief, A thief he'll but rob you, and take what you have, But an inconstant lover will lead you to your grave. On Raglan Road [words: Patrick Kavanagh; air: Fáinne Gheal an Lae - The Dawning of the Day] On Raglan Road, on an autumn day, I met her first, and knew That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might someday rue, I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way, And I said, "Let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day". On Grafton Street, in December, we tripped lightly along the ledge Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion's pledge, The Queen of Hearts still making tarts, and I not making hay, Oh, I loved too much, and by such, by such is happiness thrown away. I gave her gifts of the mind, I gave her the secret sign that's known To the artists, who have known the true gods of sound and stone And word and tint, I did not stint, but I gave her poems to say, With her own name there, and her own dark hair, like clouds over fields of May. On a quiet street, where old ghosts meet, I see her walking now, Away from me so hurriedly, my reason must allow That I had wooed not as I should this creature made of clay, When the angel woos the clay, he'd lose his wings at the dawn of day. Down by the Sally Gardens Down by the sally gardens my love and I did meet, She passed the sally gardens with little snow white feet, She bid me to take love easy, as the leaves grow on the trees, But I, being young and foolish, with her did not agree. In a field by the river, my love and I did stand, And on my leaning shoulder she placed her snow white hand, She bid me to take life easy, as the grass grows on the weir, But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears. The Bonny Ship, the Diamond Oh, the Diamond is a ship me lads, for the Davis Strait she's bound, And the quay it is all garnished with bonnie lassies round, Captain Thompson gives the order to sail the ocean wide, Where the sun it never sets me lads, nor darkness dims the skies, CHORUS: And it's cheer up, me lads, let your hearts never fail, For the bonnie ship the Diamond goes a-fishing for the whale. Along the quay at Peterhead the lassies stand around, With their shawls all pulled around them and the salt tears running down; Oh don't you weep, my bonnie lass, though you be left behind, For the rose will grow on Greenland's ice before we change our mind. It'll be bricht both day and night when the Greenland lads come hame, Wi' a ship that's full of oil me lads, and money to our name, We'll make the cradles for to rock and the blankets for to tear, And every lass in Peterhead sing "hushabye my dear"! Here's a health to the Resolution, likewise the Eliza Swan, Here's a health to the Battler of Montrose and the Diamond, ship of fame, We'll wear the trousers of the white and the jackets of the blue, When we return to Peterhead, we'll ha'e sweethearts enough! The Blackleg Miner It's in the evening after dark When the blackleg miner creeps to work, With his moleskin pants and his dirty shirt, There goes the blackleg miner. Well, he grabs his duds and down he goes To hew the coal that lies below, There's not a woman in this townrow Will look at the blackleg miner. Oh, Delville is a terrible place They rub wet clay in the blackleg's face, And round the heath they run a footrace To catch the blackleg miner. And if a' gang down Seghill mine, Across the way, the stretch a line To catch the throat and break the spine Of the dirty blackleg miner. They grab his duds and picks as well And throw them down in the pit of hell, It's down you go, and fare you well You dirty blackleg miner. So join the union while you may Don't wait until your dying day, That may not be so far away, You dirty blackleg miner!