Lachesis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iamlachesis) wrote2005-03-17 12:52 am
iamlachesis) wrote2005-03-17 12:52 am
I'm not Irish - but aren't we all, today?
Star Of The County Down
Near Banbridge town in the County Down
one morning last July
Down a Boreen green came a sweet coleen
and she smiled as she passed me by
She looked so sweet from her two bare feet
to the sheen of her nut-brown hair
Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself,
for to see I was really there
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
and from Galway to Dublin town
No maid I've seen like the brown coleen
that I met in the County Down
As she onward sped, sure I scratched my head
and I looked with a feeling rare
And I says, says I, to a passer-by:
Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?
He smiled at me and he says, says he:
That's the gem of Irelands crown
Young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann
she's the star of the County Down
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
and from Galway to Dublin town
No maid I've seen like the brown coleen
that I met in the County Down
At the harvest fair she'll be surely there,
so I'll dress in my Sunday clothes
With my shoes shone bright and my hat cocked right,
for a smile from my nut-brown rose
No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke, til my plough is a rust-coloured brown
Til a smiling bride by my own fireside, sits the star of the County Down
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
and from Galway to Dublin town
No maid I've seen like the brown coleen
that I met in the County Down
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
and from Galway to Dublin town
No maid I've seen like the brown coleen
that I met in the County Down
or, if you prefer,
Happy Evacuation Day
Turlough og O'Boyle incidentally, one of my favorite songs.
Wild are thy hills O Donegal, that frown and darkly rise
as if to greet the mist that falls upon them from the skies
Dark,dark thy hills, and darker still thy mountain torrents flow
but none so dark as Maolmuire's heart, in his castle hall at Doe.
Mild are thy plains, O Donegal, and calm thy winding streams
that gently flow by hut and hall, beneath the bright sunbeams
but plain or stream or meadow green or flower upon the lea
were none more mild than Maolmuire's child, so sweet and fair was she.
Stout grow thine oak, O Donegal, and straight thine ashen tree
and swift and straight thy sons so tall, her country's pride to see.
But oak, nor ash, nor young men all, that spring from Irish soil,
were none more stout, swift, straight or strong, than the chief of Clan O'Boyle
He was the pride of Faugher side, from the hills of Ballymore,
for feats of strength, none equalled him from Fanad to Gaoth Dhobair
and he would go through the frost and snow on a merry christmas day
with a ringing cheer to hunt the deer from his haunts in dark Glenviegh
In a little boat, O'Boyle would float and a-fishin he would go
with hook and line to Lachagh stream which runs by castle Doe
where high up in the tower above his loved one lay confined;
and in its lofty battlements, in sorrow deep she pined
At the castle strand two boats lay manned to await the rising tide,
Maolmuire there in cheif command, right cowardly did hide
and when O'Boyle on his homeward course steered past the Bishop's isle
they were waylaid, and a prisoner made, of the fearless young O'Boyle.
They took him to the castle, in strongirons he was bound
and by Maolmuire was confined to a dungeon underground
but in a few days after, inside the graveyard wall,
four stalwart ruffians bore a bier, wrapped in a funeral pall
Then poor Eileen in her tower above beheld the mournful scene
in mute amaze she cast her gaze upon the graveyard green
all pale and death beside a mound of freshly risen soil,
the pall removed she there beheld the features of O'Boyle
Then with a shreik she madly leapt from her tower to the ground
where by her faithful waiting maid, her corpse in cold was found
In castle Doe, by the graveyard green, beneath the mould'ring soil
Maolmuire's daughter sleeps in death, with Turlough Og O'Boyle
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(and, FTR, if I never have to make green beer again, I'll be a very happy woman. :))
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anyway, in honor of Evacuation Day, let's all go give the Porcelain Goddess a nice present!
:P
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btw - didnt you say you'd make me a mix CD some time ago?
I await it excitedly. :)
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you've only had to remind me what? 8 times now?
just keep sending me those Yahoo IM thingies with the content "CEEEEEE-DEEEEEEE" once every 2.5 days, and i should have memory jogged sufficiently to net positive results for you (4U). ;)
"D" comes after "C". *smirk*
I never see you online anymore; are you busy these days or logging in later at night (later STILL, I should say).
Re: "D" comes after "C". *smirk*
way down
and i make like a bear more than a clown
a clown. . .
so doth the spleanoid creature hibernate much, thereby negating both postulates in your inquiry, tho "hibernating" could be construed as "busy"! ;)
but the springish vibrations are getting to me now. i done poked me nose outta the cave a few times. . .