Irish Songs Lyrics With Guitar Chords By Martin Dardis

Old Irish Folk Songs

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Old Folk Song Lyrics From Ireland. As opposed to the other sections of the site these song have never been recorded to the best of my knowledge. Some are over 100 years old. There are a total of 1700 songs on this site. The vast majority are over 50 years old. So the best place to start looking for old songs is the A-B Section and take it from there going through all the sections.

Kitty from Baltimore Lyrics.
Well Known Songs

When i was young
And
Had lots of fun
And been an early blade
I loved to walk
And have a talk
With a handsome comley maid.

2

That was the
Way
From day to day
That i spent my time alone
And i never found
Till i fell in love
With kitty from baltimore

3

It’s her father frank
That i might thank
Still he made me
In this sad state
He said he could
Not me endure
For to court his
Daughter kate

4

I went to kate
For to relate
All my troubles
And my grief
And she answered me
Quite modestly
Kind sir there is no relief

(mouth organmusic is played in between)

5

Not being content away i went
Till i joined the 98
I’m enlisted now she’s broken her vows
Farewell to my love kate
The note she wrote
My heart nearly broke
When i read it all in all
Saying she’d got wed
To a farmers son
Not far from baltimore

6

Now lads that’s young
Take my advice
And adventure to relate
Do not believe
A fair young lass
One word that she might say
She’l tell you lad
She loves you
And she’ll
Swear it
All and all
And she’ll curl her hair
And leave ye there
Like kitty from baltimore.


From the lp irish ballad brew 1968
With the folk group three coins
Trad arranged by (magee, woods)

This is another jaunting song easy to sing
From the three coins on a lp 1968 called irish ballad brew.

This Folk Song Was Sent to site by Patrick Burke

Old Irish Folf Songs
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Boys From The County Armagh

Carrickfergus Song

Curragh Of Kildare

The Butcher Boy

Danny Boy Song

Come down from the mountains Katie Daly

I wish I had someone to love me

God's Island, Words and music Nick Sharkey
[ The Moonlighters ]

God made an Island and he placed it in the

sea, His fingers traced the river beds to set

the water free,When the rain falls on the hilltops and

the snow melts the spring,
He made the birds and crickets, and he

taught them how to sing.

Chorus
Some say him nay, it happened not that

way,'Twas the wind of the ages, and the sun

upon the clay,But who made the wind,
the earth and the sun ? And who made the ages
but the great and timeless one.

Chorus
Some still say nay, it happened not that way,
The Trinity means nothing more than time and sun and clay,
But who made the wind, the earth and the sun ?
And who made the ages but the great and timeless one.

Sea Captain

Once there lived a captain born out of the

sea,
And before he was married he was sent far

away,
Oh but when he returned, to her father he

did go,
''Is your daughter inside sir, may I see

her once more ?


''For my daughter is not here sir,
She left us here last night,
She is gone into some Nunnery,
Was the old man's reply.


He went unto the Nunnery,
And he knocked at the door,
The Reverend Mother came to him,
And she was all mournful go leor.


Then your love is not here sir,
She left us last night,
She is gone into the Asylum
Where she is fractured in mind.


He went into the Asylum,
Where he got a hard surprise,
And the anser that they gave him,
Oh she died here last night.


Let me in said the captain,
Let me in the captain cried,
Let me in until I see her,
And I'll die by her side.


For he stood at her left side,
And his sharp sword he drew.
When he stood to great attention.
And he pierced his heart through.


Oh sad it was the parting,
And hard it was the doom,
To see two loyal lovers,
Lying dead in that dark room.


Saying green grow the laurels,
And soft it was the dew,
Oh sorry am I true lover,
For ever parting with you.

 By The Sea- John Keegan / Casey Ballad

The soft winds sing across the sea,
While here I sit all alone and cold.
Rapt in the rays of memory,
That flash from Golden days of old,
For oh, the oceans murmuring tune,
Speaks to my bosom of a time,
When life was as a harvest moon,
Or warbling of a sylvan rhyme.


An old grey home upon the beach
A gentle face that blessed the door,
Whose eyes like Saint's from sculptured niche,
Look into mine for evermore
Full voices 'mid the garden flowers,
To soothe and sanctify the day,
These once were mine but frozen hours,
Have stolen them all to depts away.


One after one they glided past,
Borne on the stream that mocks at time,
On dusty thorny pathways cast,
'Mid poisoned cares I lived my prime,
But still the breath of early buds
Remained to scent the cross I bore,
To give me strenght to breast the floods,
That break on life's enclouded shore.


Snow chilly snow, fell on my way,
And cast sharp icy thrills around.
But gentle voices day by day,
When hopeful tones my faint heart fond,
Soft stars looked through the dark browned skies,
And poured a pulsing light on my,
I felt they were the radiant eyes,
That lit my youth beside the sea.


Back memory ! close thy faded leaves,
And let me ope the page to come,
''T' is not with thee my soul now grieves;
I pine for rest ; I thirst for home !
I want to see beloved forms,
I want to clasp soft hands again,
To hear no more the roaring storms,
To feel no more the aching pain.

Dear Old Donegal - Old Irish Folk Song
Tho' I may range in foreign lands, beyond a dreary sea,
The home I leave in Ireland shall still be dear to me.
And as the river seeks the sea, my thoughts to it shall flow,
To rest on scenes I dearly loved, in the days of long ago;
For wheresoever my path shall lead and whatsoever shall befall,
I'll never forget the hills and dales of dear old Donegal.

Let Italy boast its myrtle groves, and skies of cloudless blue;
The bogs of dear old Ireland have got their myrtles, too;
And tho' her sky is often dark, her sun is seldom seen,
'Tis the weeping skies of Erin that keep old Ireland green.
The sweetest breath that nature breathes, the sweetest dews that fall,
Fall on the heath that clothes the hills of dear old Donegal.

I hear them praise the glint that lights the Spanish maiden's eyes,
I hear them praise the Saxon maid and laud her loud and high;
But there are girls in Ireland, fair as the flowers of spring,
With eyes as black as Irish sloes and hair like raven's wing.
You'll find them in the rugged glens, where mountain torrents fall,
By moor and lake and fen and brake in dear old Donegal.
Oh, how I loved to listen to Granny's Irish song,
She sang when soinnine at the wheel in her soft Gaelic tongue:
 
Oh, how I loved to listen to Granny's Irish song,
She sang when spinning at the wheel in her soft Gaelic tongue,
Or when she told some legend of ancient Irish Kings,
Or when the elfs in boisterous mirth, waltzed round the fairy rings,
You offer books, you offer wealth, I fling you back them all,
For the love songs and the legends of dear old Donegal.

Eileen - Traditional Irish Love Song
In a spot by the sea near the castle of Mulveen,
There lived a fair maiden called lovely Eileen.
Her cheeks were as bright as the clear morning dew,
And her love for her young fisher laddie was true.
Each morning he'd said with the sun and the tide,
But he always returned to his promised young bride.
On a rock by the shore they could hear him so plain,
His voice in the wind singing soft this refrain:

Chorus:
Eileen, my Eileen  Wait for me, wait, Eileen.
They were to be wed on a Sunday in May,
His heart was overjoyed to see Eileen so gay.
Next morning he sailed with the sun and the tide,
And he never returned to his promised young bride.
Oh, no, never more, their hearts beat as one, ..
Her lover he died -- yes, he died in a storm.
Yet down by the shore she could hear him so plain,
His soft voice in the wind singing soft this refrain:

Chorus
They say that her heart it was broken in two,
For Eileen was so young and so true.
Down by the shore those who loved her the best,
Near the rocks where he waited they laid her to rest.
Many a year has passed since that day,
When maidens they waited for lovers so gay.
Yet down by the shore you can hear it so plain,
His ghost in the wind singing soft this refrain:
Chorus

The Old Lammas Fair
At the Ould Lammas Fair in Ballycastle long ago,
I met a little colleen, who set my heart a-glow;
She was smiling at her daddy buying lambs from Paddy Roe
At the Ould Lammas Fair in Ballycastle 0?

CHORUS:
At the Ould Lammas Fair, boys, were you ever there.
Were you ever at the fair in Ballycastle 0?
Did you treat your Mary Ann to dulse and yellow man
At the Ould Lammas Fair at Ballycastle 0?

In Flanders fields afar while resting from the war,
We drank Bon-Sante to the Flemish lassies 0;
But the scene that haunts my memory is kissing Mary Ann,
Her pouting lips all sticky from eating yellow man.
As we crossed the silver Morgey and strolled across the strand,
From the Ould Lammas Fair at Ballycastle 0!

There's a neat little cabin on the slopes of ould Knocklaod,
It's lit by love and sunshine where the heather honey's made
By the bees ever humming and our childer's joyous call, 
it Resounds across the valley when the shadows fall.
I take my fiddle down and my Mary smiling there
Brings back a happy memory of the Ould Lammas Fair
JOHN HENRY MACAULAY -Old Folk Songs From Ireland

The Dawning Of The Day-Old Version
THE DAWNING OF THE DAY
As I walked forth one morning fair before the break of day,
Across the pleasant fields so gay I carelessly did stray;
I there espied a comely lass, she seemed the Queen of May,
As she lightly tripped o'er the meadows green at the dawning of the day.

Her cheeks were like the roses red, her hair a lovely brown,
And o'er her snow-white bosom fair, her careless locks hung down;
With milking pail all in her hand, as she crossed o'er the lea,
She far outshined Aurora bright at the dawning of the day.

I gently stepped up to her, and this to her did say:
`Good morning to you. pretty maid, pray what brought you this way?
You seem a stranger in these parts; oh, why so lonely stray,
At such an early hour as this, the dawning of the day.'

`I am no stranger o'er these plains,' she courteously replied;
`As yonder is my father's cot, down by the river's side;
The pastures where our cows feed on, they are so far away,
That I must be there each morning fair, by the dawning of the day.'

"Tis time enough, my jewel,' I said, `supposing it was a mile,
Come, sit you down on this primrosy bank, 'till we chat awhile.'
`Oh, no, kind sir, my hurry, I fear, admits of no delay,
Look all round, 'tis morning clear, 'tis the dawning of the day.'
_______________________________
Old Folk Songs From Ireland

God Be With You Kerry
O God be with you, Kerry,
When in childhood we were merry!
When we'd hear the fiddler tuning up
and resining the bow.
At the crossroads we'd be dancing,
And our colleens shyly glancing,
Just like their dads and mothers did
In Kerry long ago.

Now my heart is sad and weary,
Still in dreams I see my Mary,
With her golden tresses flying - on her
checks a rosy glow!
In her joy I hear her singing,
While Bill ? alpin's fiddle ringing
As he played The Stack at Barley,
Down in Kerry long ago.

We'd go down to Mary's dairy,
And our feet so light and airy.
At the churn we'd take our turn,
'till the butter would overflow.
Then to the kitchen we'd retire,
And pick out the biggest liar,

Just to tell us `fairy stories'
of Kerry long ago.
Then we'd stroll home in the moonlight,
And the colleens' waists we'd hug tight,
Just to save them from the fairies in the
Raheen' down below.
Then we'd say 'good-night' and kiss them;
We'd go home and pray; God bless them,
The sweethearts of our boyhood days
in Kerry long ago.

Whiskey Row
Well I came to Chicage in 1869
And I took me a place in Connely's patch
Started on the railway working the UP line,
Walking those endless miles of track
Laying down those crossties and banging on the steel
In the cold wind and rain,
From Palmer House, down to Marshall Fields,
Every day was just the same.

Chorus
But at the end of the day,
We'd all wait for the horns to blow,
Then we'd make our own way,
Down to the Bars on Wiskey Row.

Now over at the stockyards the packers are winding down,
They're all waiting for the closing sign,
They'll rush the front gates and  storm the town,
And take their seats upon the line,
With their glasses on the counter, their feet upon the rail
A friendly smile and hello
All the laughing getting louder with every passing tale,
Those golden days of Whiskey Row.

Now Palmer House has fallen
Pullman cars are off the track,
And there ain't no more Courthouse Square,
And nothing is left standing over at Connelys Patch
Since that mighty fire tore through there
But some day soon we'll reach up to the sky,
Over the rivers flames and smoke,
And she'll keep a lookout with a mothers eye,
Over her boys on Whiskey Row,

What Did They Do ?
By GRACE LORENZA O'MALLEY
What did they do?
Oh Irishmen! Whose souls are dead,
Who claim this blessed land
of our your motherland,
And walk in ways where Saints have led,
Who view the hills and breathe the air
But never see God's image there.
To you I speak:
You ask me: `What did they do?"

I ask you
What did Christ do, as naked on the Cross He hung
Twixt earth and sky, a God-man unknown?
Outraged, despised, neglected by the world
That passed him by and said:
`What did He do?'
Except the faithful few
Seeing beyond the wounds and blood and tears,
What sacrifice hath done for countless years,
Of generations yet unborn;
And still they say, who seeing, will not see,
`What has He done for me?'
Oh Irishmen! by tyrants led,

Your hearts grown cold, your minds corrupt,
What right have you to criticise the dead
That stood for God and Liberty!
Oh ye, who stand and see the Shadows stealing o'er our land,
Who seeing are unmoved, nor lift a hand
to strike a blow for freedom.
What can ye know of spirits such as these,
Or of the powers that move them to great deeds
'gainst frightful odds?

`What did they do?' You say who will not see,
Nor judge their merits further than their gains,
They give their lives --- no more!
What greater sacrifice does God demand
That we may live, and living think,
And, thinking, learn to soar above the fate of slaves?
Oh Blessed Failure! Born of the Cross,
Triumph is Thine,
For Christ has triumphed through eternety
______________________________
Old Folk Songs From Ireland

Victoria- The Grehan Sisters
 
1
The Lion and the Unicorn were fighting for the Crown,
Some usefull Irish Chedder and they both came tumbling down.
At second St. George they parted to,
From St. Stevens Green in town.
But ther’e coming down for you Victoria.
Chorus
Victoria ther’e coming for ye soon
Victoria it’s made around the moon
Its shining on December frost
To crown the flowers of June
But ther’e coming down for you Victoria.
2
A Gas main burst in Belfast on the eve  of poppy day
And loyal doors and windows soon flew rapidly away
They came to Dublin Dockland
and in the North or so they say
Sent the message from the Capital to Victoria.
Chorus as above
Victoria ther’e coming for ye soon
Victoria its made around the moon
Its shining on December frost
 to crown the flowers of June
But ther’e coming down for you Victoria.
3
Georgie lost his seaty
King Billy lost his head
And Wayne lost his Balance
From the Unicorn he fled
As sure as your a humpish
Bumpy Bumpy lump of lead
They’l be coming down for you Victoria
Chorus as above
4
Nelson’s weather eyed is looking out they say for spuds
Ther’e nervous  in the phoneix park and round old Dublin’s Woods
But since ther’e ever cheap and useless good
They’ll be double A’s for you Victoria.
2 x Chorus as above at the end
The very last Chorus is sung in a lower voice Level.

DRUMBOE CASTLE Michael McGinley
'Twas the eve of St. Patrick's Day by the dawn of the day,
The hills of Tirconnel looked sombre and grey.
When the first dawn of morning illumined the sky
Four brave Irish soldiers were led forth to die.

They left their loved homes in a green Munster vale,
And came to Tirconnell to fight for the Gael.
Instead of true friends they met traitor and foe,
Now uncoffined they lie in the woods of Drumboe.

The church bells rang loud in the cool morning air,
To summon the faithful to penance and prayer.
When a crash from the wild woods struck terror and woe,
'Twas the death knell of Daly shot dead at Drumboe.

Four Republican soldiers were dragged from their cells,
Where for months they had suffered the torments of hell.
No mercy they ask from their pitiless foe,
And no mercy was shown by the thugs of Drumboe.

Let Tirconnel no more boast of honour and fame,
All the waters of Finn could not wash out this shame.
While the Finn and the Swilly continue to flow,
This stain will remain on the thugs of Drumboe.

THE COLLEEN DHOUN
As I roved out one summer's morning,
I met a maiden of beauty rare -
The sweet wild roses, the braes adorning,
Not half so sweet are, nor half so fair.
The brown thrush singing when the sun is sinking,
The blackbird piping when the sun is down,
And the little stars in the sky a-winking,
Sang not so sweetly as my colleen dhoun.

Oh, brown tressed maiden of rarest beauty,.
You've won my heart on this summer day,
To love you always will be my duty,
If you, fair one, won't say me nay.'
`Young man,' she answered, `you are a stranger,
And I will ne'er give my heart and hand,
To any rover or to any ranger,
Who will not fight for his native land.'

`In the fields of France has my father batled,
My brothers, too, 'neath the fleur-de-lis
Where the sables flashed and the cannon rattled,
Struck many a blow to set Ireland free;
And the English flag often sank before them,
But their graves are made in a foreign strand,
And sad and lonely do I deplore them
Who died away from their native land.

`Oh, bright-eyed maiden, the hours I'm counting,
Till the summons comes to the brave and true,
And the green flag flies over plain and mountain
And pikes are flashing, and muskets, too.
And then, astoreen, when the battle's over
I'll come and ask for your heart and hand
And if I fall forget not the rover
Who died for you and his native land
_____________________________

Goldsmith - John Keegan / Casey Ballad

The calm air rested on the grass
Brown-hued by summer's fading sun,
And far above the vapours dun,
Were clustering in the vapours mass.


From trellised doors low drooped the vine
And sounds of soft Provencal song,
Rose from the happy peasant throng
A-quaffing draughts of fragant wine.


Far sunward, like a band of gold,
The broad Laire gleamed bright and fair,
And when the stout spears bristling there,
The Norman Rod fis flag unrolled.


His face has not the Gallic hue
Around his lips there plays a smile,
Like one whose breast is free from guile,
To God and nature firm and true.


Here, here is peace, yet not for me,
Let me enjoy it while I may,
I yearn for other scences away,
In my own land across the sea.


The wanderer sits before the door,
Amid the eager, wandering hand,
The wine cup in his clasped hand,
Before him spread the household store.


He thinks how long he pined and pined,
The world and all it's shades to see,
It's citizen alone to be,
And here is what his hear divined.


Yet there is something wanting still,
The mother's love the father's prayer,
The freshness of his native air,
The ancient home, the rath - crowned hill.


This is the void, but now the rays,
Of moonlight kiss the ripening fruit,
He breathes into his sopft tuned flute,
And young eyes fill the while he plays.


The sad old tunes that soothe his breast
Along the air in richness flow,
Frighted with dreams of long ago,
Dreams full of pearls and silken rest.


A change ! a change ! the jovial strain,
Old Ballymahon Town appears,
Bob, Jack and all the wild compeers,
Of awkard, mad brained ''Noll'' again !.


As swiftly round the dancers go,
He thinks he rides on ''Fiddleback'',
The careless poet's sorry hack.
With spirits in congenial flow.


Thus 'neath the smiling moon of France,
He laughs and plays his melodies,
To thoughts and fancies such as these,
That through his brain in madness dance.


So be it, Let the scoffer sneer -
Goldsmith ! thy life is understood,
By all like thee, who love the good,
To whome God's work is always dear.


Thy follies ! we can let them pass,
And make the bright lights ever shine
That sparkle from the soul devine
As clear and pure as crystal glass.


The traveller now, the preacher then,
The post preacher filled with love,
As gentle as the light above,
That woos the rugged hearts of men.


Here in the spot thy feet oft pressed,
A Celtic minstrel tribute pays,
To all those strange ways,
Thy faults, thy vertues, and the rest.


Peace to the clay ! let other men
Chant forth thy fame in golden song;
Where will thy like be found again

Christmas Memories by Leo Casey
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Christmas Memories by Leo Casey and published by Robert S. McGee 35 Lower Sackville Steet Dublin beside the General Post Office. Title of book - Wreath Of Shamrocks, Ballads, Songs and Legends.


Oh those Christmas times, Mavourneen are not like times of old.
When the light of love shone shoftly, and our pulses felt no cold;
When the laughter of the young hearts rount the hearth rang merrily;
Now the laughter of the young hearts all are gone ashore, Machree !


Methinks I see our darling Kate, her blue eyes fixed on mine,
And dark haired Patrick resting soft his little hand in mine;
Methinks I hear brave Owen's voice, and Brian's free and gay,
With soft cheeked Eily's mingling in the holy Christmas lay.


Dreams ! dreams ! tonight the ancient hearth no kindly look doth wear,
There is snow upon the threshold stone and chillness everywhere,
No swell of rushing voices pours the holy Christmas lay,
The young hearts, and the merry hearts, Mavoureen, where are they ?


Ah, Blue eyed Kate and Patrick Dhu, long long have found their rest,
Where Shruel's silent Churchyard looks across the Inny's breast;
And Eily, thy young heart lies cold and pulseless 'neath the sea,
Full many and many a Christmas-tide, alanna Bawn Machree.


And Potomac's blood tinged wave brave Owen nobly fell.
My gallant boy ! they say he fought, right gloriusly and well;
And Brian's voice is hushed in Death, where Blue Australian streams,
Fill with their youthful melodies the exile's glowing dreams.


Asthore, asthore, beside the light our faces shine alone;
But they are clustered with the stars, before the eternal throne;
With St. Patrick and St. Bridge and the Angles robed in white,
They sing the old remembered strains, their Christmas hymn tonight.


Old love ! old love ! his will be blessed that left e'en you to me.
To keep my heart from bursting with the wild, wild memory.
That soothing glance, Mavoureen speaks of Christmas time to come,
When the scattered hearts shall meet, for aye in God's eternal home

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