1. Suil a Ruin
2. North Country Fair
3. Wild Mountain Thyme
4. The West's Awake
5. The Boys of Barr na Sraide
6. The Witch of the Westmerelands
7. Brand New Legacy
8. When Margaret Was Eleven
9. Marching
10. Is Fad o'Bhaile Daithneoinn
11. Road to Glory
12. Dawning's Whisper
13. The Wild Geese
14. A Man's a Man for a'That

Siuil, siuil, siuil a ruin,
Siuil go socair agus siuil go ciuin
Siuil go doras agus ealaigh liom
Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan

His hair was black, his eyes were blue
His arm was stout, his word was true
Oh how I wish I was with you
Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan

I wish I was on yonder hill
And by myself I'd cry my fill
And every tear would turn a mill
Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan

I'll sell my rod I'll sell my reel
I'll sell my only spinning wheel
To buy my love a sword of steel
Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan

I'll dye my petticoats, I'll dye them red
Around the world I'll beg my bread
Until my parents shall wish me dead
Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan

But no, my love, he's gone to France
Afore his fortune to advance
And if ere he return tis but a chance
Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan

I wish, I wish, I wish in vain
I wish I had my heart again
And vainly think I'd not complain
Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan

Anders - acoustic guitar
Frances - mandolin
Maggie - vocal, fiddle
Matthew - percussion

If you're travelling to the North Country Fair
Where the wind blows heavy on the borderline
Remember me to the one who lives there
For she once was a true love of mine

See for me that her hair's hangin' long
That her crimson curls fall down her breast
See for me that her hair's hangin' long
For that's the way I remember her best

Please see for me she has a cloak so warm
That it wraps around her, up around her chin
Please see for me she has a cloak so warm
To keep her from the howling wind.

Please see for me that her room is dry
That the peat is plenty and fire is bright
Please see for me that her room is dry
To keep her from the freezing night

oh the summer time is coming and the trees are sweetly blooming
and the wild mountain thyme grows around the purple heather
will you go lassie go?

and we'll all go together to pull wild mountain thyme
all around the purple heather, will you go lassie go?

i will build my love a bower by yon clear and crystal fountain
and on it i'll place all the flowers of the mountain
will you go lassie go?

and if my true love, he won't go, i shall surely find no other
to pull wild mountain thyme all around the purple heather,
will you go lassie go?

In remembrance of the Fenian Uprising of 1798

And if when all the vigil keep, the West's asleep, the West's asleep
Alas full well may Erin weep, bold Connaught lies in slumber deep
Where lake and plain smile fair and free mid rocks their guardian chivalry,
Sing ho! let man learn liberty from crashing winds and slashing seas.

For often in O'Connor's van to triumph dashed each Connaught clan
And fleet as dear the Norman's ran thru Curlew's pass and Ardrahan,
And later times saw deeds as brave and glory guards clan Riggard's grave
Sing ho! they died their land to save on Aughrim's slopes and Shannon's waves.

Yet still when all the vigil keep the West's asleep, the West's asleep,
Alas full well may Erin weep, bold Connaught lies in slumber deep,
But hark! a voice like thunder spake! the West's awake, the West's awake!
Sing ho! hurrah! let England quake...we'll watch till death for Erin's sake.

Maggie - vocal
Matthew - drums

Oh the town that climbs the mountain and looks out upon the sea
At sleeping time or waking, tis there I long to be
To walk again those kindly streets, the place where life began
With the boys of Barr na Sraide who hunted for the wren

With cudgels stout they roamed about in search of dreolin
We searched for birds from every furze from Litir to Doneen
We danced for joy beneath the sky, life held no print nor plan
When the boys of Barr na Sraide were hunting for the wren

And when the hills were bleeding and the rifles were aflame
To the rebel homes of Kerry the Saxon stranger came
But the men who dared the Auxies, who fought the Black & Tans
Were the boys of Barr na Sraide who hunted for the wren
But now they toil in foreign soil where they have made their way
Deep in the heart of Londontown or over in Broadway
And I am left to sing their deeds and praise them while I can
Those boys of Barr na Sraide who hunted for the wren

And here's a health to them tonight wherever they may be
By the groves of Carham River or the slopes of Bi na Ti
John Daley and Batt Andy, the Sheehan's, Conn and Dan
Those boys of Barr na Sraide who hunted for the wren

And when the wheel of life runs out, and peace comes over me
Just take me back to that old town between the hills and sea
I'll take my rest in those green fields, the place where life began
With boys of Barr na Sraide who hunted for the wren

Anders - electric guitar, bass guitar, acoustic guitar
Maggie - vocal
Matthew - drums

Pale was the wounded knight
That bore the rowan shield,
Loud and cruel were the ravens' cries
That feasted on the field.
Sayin' "Beck water cold and clear
Will never clean your wounds.
There's none but the Maid of the Winding Mere
Can make thee healed and sound."

"So course well my brindled hounds,
And fetch me the mountain hare,
Whose coat is as gray as the West water,
Or as white as the lily fair."
Who said, "Green moss and heather bands
Will never staunch the flood.
There's none but the Witch of the Westmerelands
Can save thy dear life's blood."

"So turn, turn your stallion's head
'Till his red mane flies in the wind,
And the rider of the moon goes by,
And the bright star falls behind."
And clear was the pale evening
When his shadow passed him by,
And overhead was the brightest star
When he heard the owlet cry.

Sayin' "why do you ride this way?
And whafore came ye here?"
"I seek the Witch of the Westmerelands
That dwells by the winding mere."
"Then fly free your good gray hawk
To gather the goldenrod.
And face your horse into the clouds
Beyond yon gaping wood."

And it's weary by Ellswater,
And the misty brakefern way,
Through the cleft of the Kirksten Pass
The winding water lay.

And it's down to the water's brim
He's borne the rowan shield,
And the goldenrod he has cast in
To see what the lake might yield.

Sayin' "Course well, my brindled hounds,
And fetch me the jet-black mare.
Stoop and strike, my good grey hawk,
And bring me the maiden fair."

And she's bound his wounds with the goldenrod,
Full fast in her arms he lay,
And he has risen healed and sound,
With the sun high in the day.

She said, "Ride with your brindled hounds at heel,
And your good grey hawk in hand:
There's none can harm a knight who's lain
With the Witch of the Westmerelands."

Davey lives out on the plain
Knows the silence in his home
Hides secrets and stories of people and places
Long long forgotten long left behind
Oh grandmother where did my family come from
Remember to me what you've heard
My darling it's over it's worn out and gone
As she recalls her own grandmother's words

Go now leave now leave me right here
I can't take no more of this lingering
Go and find a new life forget all this strife
Go make a brand new legacy

Davey goes to chruch and prays
In a faith just eighty years old
It's a feeling he's had since he was a lad
That something was his but never was told
Oh who was that man they call Patrick the Saint
Who taught all his people to see
Did he speak the truth then did he touch my own kin
Did he leave me his own legacy

He wonders why the songs of Ireland
Strike deep in his heart and his blood
He won't know his clan fought against poverty wrought
By the landlords and kings throughout his homeland
When the chieftain was hunted and fled for his life
His true love had bid him goodbye
Knowing she'd never see him or speak of him more
And his story would die whith the darkening sky

My father waved farewll, and the band played tunes of glory
A giant man in ribbons, and bedevilled dignity
A regimenatl sergeant, the backbone of the empire
For God and righteous glory bound for High Germany

Chorus
Sweet Lord, I was just seven when Margaret was eleven
They served us war for breakfast, and soldier's songs for tea
"Your daddy's gone campaigning" was their way of not explaining
That soldiers are the living proof of our inhumanity

My father made it home, but he came without his reason
Two eyes of molten madness, a senseless fool of war
"He's just a child," my mother cried, "To be dressed in full regalia,
And paraded as a hero home from High Germany."

There'll be no more tunes of glory for Margaret and me...

Daddy can you tell me what are they marching for
Are they marching into battle are they marching into war
They are marching for their freedom they are marching for their right
They're marching for the things they won't give up without a fight
They're marching for their freedom to speak and to hear
They're marching for the things in life that we all hold so dear

Daddy can you tell me why are they marching now
Why do their banners say we are bloody but unbowed
They've faced the baton charges and they've nursed the ones who've bled
They know the sound of horses hooves and truncheons to the head
Their leaders have been taken from their homes at the dead of night
But they'll not give up the battle no they'll not five up the fight

Daddy now they're marchin they're marching by one more
And some of them are weeping as they pass on by our door
The papers said an accident and one said suicide
It seems that no one will admit just how the prisoner died
Well I've seen a lot of life though I'm only ten times four
But a man who beat himself to death I've never seen before.

Daddy tell me why you talk in whispers on the phone
And why won't you let me go and play out on my own
Hush my child, don't let them hear you talk in such a way
For they've passed a law to stop you from disputing what they say
And someday in the future when we can't take anymore
We'll march again and next time we'll be marching into war

is fad ò bhaile a d'aithneoinn féin do shiùl
do chul dubh daite faoi hata glan éadrom ùr
bhiodh blas na meala 'ach aon mhaidin ar phoig mo rùn
roimhe shamhain gan amhras beidh faire orm féin le chumhaidh

nuair a éìrìm ar maidin is théim go cùl an toigh'
is amharcaim le fada ar un taobh ùd a bhfeicinn mo mhian
ach 'nois tà mé réidh leis go ndeàntar dom cònair chaol
is go bhfàsann an neantòg's an féar glas frìd làr mo chroì

a shùil is glaise nà'n coiscreach nuair is ùire a blàth
scéal cinnte go jcaoinfinn gan stanaodh dà gcluinnfinn do dhàil
feara Eireann's dà mbeadh siad cruinn ar aon chnoc amhàin
a ghrà dà bhféadfainn's tu féin bheadh agam ar làimh

tabhair mo mhallact do d'aithair's do do mhàthair fein
nach dtug beagàn tuigse diut-se le mo làmh a léamh
go moch air maidin a chuirfinnse chugat bri mo scéil
fà mo leithscéal a ghlacadh go gcasfaì duit in uagneas mé

Translation

It's far from home I'd know you by your walk
Your dark head of hair beneath a clean new hat
The taste of honey each morning on your lips
By Halloween it is certain the surveillance of Death will be upon me.

When I awake each morning and go behind my house
I look with longing where my true-love used to walk
I'm finished now forever till laid low in my narrow grave
Till the grasses and nettles germinate through the center of my heart.

O eye more green than grass or fresh growing reed
I'd cry endlessly if I heard you were betrothed
If all the men of Ireland were gathered on one hill
My love, it's you, of all them I would chose still.

A curse I place on your mother and father both
For not teaching you to read the words of my hand
For then I could convey the meaning of my wails
Until the time we can be together once again

Born in the country where life's never tiring
Where people from cities they drove down admiring
The montains and rivers they'd always imagined to
Never have substance at all
I once met and old man he told me a story
Of a great empire living in glory
I sat down beside him, listened intently
Couldn't find meaning at all

On the road to glory
On the road without a prayer
On the road to nowhere
And I pray that there's somebody there

I see in the papers, read the opinions
Of high flying critics who scorn at the millions
Of ordinary people who live in the shadows
And search for a light in the dark
I'm travelling this road, playing in places
To handfuls of people with hope in their faces
They're asking me questions, searching for meanings
In songs I can't give them at all.

Living in the city you know it's not easy
The cars and the taxis are passing so quickly
I sometimes imagine that nobody's listening to
Songs that I'm singing at all
I'm sitting here writing this song by the river
I'm gazing at towers and great concrete buildings and
Dreaming of Ireland and wet summer evenings and
Wishing I was back home again

When autumn leaves, they do change their color
You'll find no change in me, my love
When green the winter snows uncover
I'll waken by your side
But the king does call, and I must follow
To fight the cruel enemy
I feel my fate will turn tomorrow
Across the wild sea

Oh give to me your ring of silver
And you take mine if you must go
So that you may know with the passing winter
It's you my heart still holds
Oh don't you hear the dawning's whisper
Calling for my boat to sail
My parting tears I can hold no longer
Farewell my love, farewell

Now autumn leaves they have changed their color
The cold wind blows with the turning tide
Now green the winter snows uncover
I feel my love has died
And I curse the sea, and I curse the winter
I curse the wind that breathes
And I curse the king, and all his servants
That stole my love from me

Your grieving tears, they have called me home
But you know that I cannot stay my love
No sweetest kiss, nor all your beauty
Can save me from the clay
When she awoke to her true love's whisper
He was standing at her feet
And when she rose to pull him to her
He was colder than the sleet

Oh give to me your sword of silver
That will lay me down to die, my love
If you cannot stay, then I must follow
To waken by your side
So he took off his sword of silver
And laid it at her side
And when they heard the dawning's whisper
They were sailing on the tide

Anders - acoustic guitars
Frances - french horn
Maggie - vocal

I know that soon I must go and leave you
Who knows when we'll meet again
The wild goose calls and I must follow
Even though it brings you pain
But when I'm far away please remember
Come what may I will always care
And when you hear the wild geese calling
Think of me and I'll be right there

This land I've walked was once my fathers
I'd hoped one day it would be my sons
But when the crops began to falter
No living there could then be won
But soon the ship will raise it's anchor
To Americay I've paid my fair
And when you hear the wild geese calling
Think of me and I'll be right there

My dear who knows whenever
I will return to this land I love
But as we part amongst the heather
This vow I make by the stars above
That unto you I will prove faithful
This promise I do make my dear
That when you hear the wild geese calling
Think of me and I'll be right there

Is there for honest poverty that hangs his head and a' that
The coward slave we pass him by, we dare be poor for a' that
For a' that and a' that, our toils obscure for a' that
Their rank is but their guinea stamp, the man's the gold for a' that

For tho on homely fare we dine, wear hodden* gray and a' that
Give fools their silks and knaves their wine, a man's a man for a' that
For a' that and a' that, their tinsel show an a' that
The honest man, tho e're so poor, is king of men for a' that

You see yon birkie* called a lord, wha' struts and stares and a' that
Tho hundreds worship at his word, he's but a fool for a' that
For a' that and a' that, his ribband, star, and a' that
The man of independent mind, he looks and laughs at a' that

A prince can make a belted knight, a marquis, duke and a' that
But an honest man's above his might, good faith! he must not fall, that
For a' that and a' that, their dignities and a' that
The pith* of sense and pride of work are higher rank than a' that

Then let us pray that come it may, and come it will for a' that
That sense o' worth o'er all the earth shall bear the gree* for a' that
For a' that and a' that, it's comin' yet, for a' that
That man to man the world o'er shall brothers be, for a' that!

For a' that and a' that, it's comin' yet, for a' that
That man to man the world o'er shall brothers be, for a' that!

*Old Scots terms:
hodden: roughest, poor quality wool
birkie: young lad
pith: core, substance
bear the gree: have first priority

Home Questions or comments? Contact the WebMaster. © 2003, Loose Goose Productions