Get all 6 Patrick Clifford releases available on Bandcamp and save 20%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Chance of a Start, McAlpine's Fuseliers, Sé go Dó, Neat Little Still: The Authorized Bootlegs, Vol. 1, Lo, Above the Earth, and American Wake.
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I'm on my way down to the quay
Where the big ship at anchor lays
To command a gang of navvys
I was told to engage
I thought I'd drop in for a drink
Before I went away
For to take a trip on an emigrant ship
To the shores of Botany Bay
CHORUS:
Farewell to your bricks and mortar
Farewell to your dirty lime
Farewell to your gangway and your gang plank
To hell with your overtime
For the good ship Ragamuffin
Is lying at the quay
For to take old Pat with a shovel on his back
To the shores of Botany Bay
The boss came up this morning
He says "Well, Pat you know
If you didn't get your navvys out
I'm afraid you'll have to go"
So I asked him for my wages
I demanded all my pay
And I told him straight I was going to emigrate
To the shores of Botany Bay
And when I reach Australia
I'll go and I'll look for gold
There's plenty there for digging up
Or so I have been told
Or else I'll go back to my trade
Eight hundred bricks I'll lay
And eight bob I'll lift for an eight-hour shift
On the shores of Botany Bay
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2. |
Sea-Fever
03:16
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Sea-Fever, by John Masefield
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life.
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
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3. |
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It was one fine March morning I bid New Orleans adieu
And I took the road to Jackson town, my fortune to renew
Accursed with foreign money, no credit could I gain
Which filled my heart with longing for the lakes of Ponchartrain
I stepped on board a railroad car beneath the morning sun
I rode the rods till evening and I laid me down again
All strangers there no friends to me till a dark girl towards me came
And I fell in love with my Creole girl by the lakes of Ponchartrain
I said, "My pretty Creole girl, my money here is no good
If it weren't for the alligators, I'd sleep out in the woods"
"You're welcome here, kind stranger, our house is very plain
But we never turned a stranger out by the lakes of Ponchartrain"
She took me into her mother's house and treated me right well
The hair upon her shoulders in jet black ringlets fell
To try and paint her beauty, I’m sure twould be in vain
So handsome was my Creole girl by the lakes of Ponchartrain
I asked her if she'd marry me, she said that ne'er could be
For she had got a lover and he was far at sea
She said that she would wait for him and true she would remain
Till he'd return to his Creole girl on the lakes of Ponchartrain
So its fare thee well, my Creole girl, I never will see you more
I'll not forget your kindness in the cottage by the shore
And at each social gathering, a flowing glass will I drain
And I'll drink the health of my Creole girl by the lakes of Ponchartrain
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4. |
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As I was going over the far-famed Kerry mountains
I met with Captain Farrell and his money he was counting
I first produced my pistol, and I then produced my rapier
Saying, "Stand and deliver, for I'm your bold deceiver"
CHORUS
Musha ring dum a do dum a da
Whack for my daddy-o
Whack for my daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar
I counted out his money, and it made a pretty penny
I put it in my pocket and I took it out to Jenny
She sighed and she swore that she never would deceive me
But the devil take that woman, for they never can be easy
I went into my chamber, all for to take a slumber
I dreamed of gold and jewels and sure it was no wonder
But Jenny drew me charges and she filled them up with water
Then sent for Captain Farrell to be ready for the slaughter
It was early in the morning, just before I rose to travel
Up comes a band of footmen and likewise Captain Farrell
I first produced my pistol, for she stole away my rapier
But I couldn't shoot the water so as a prisoner I was taken
If anyone can aid me, it's my brother in the army
But a new station will be in Cork or in Killarney
And if he'll come to join me, we'll go roving near Kilkenny
And I swear he'd treat me fairer than my army sporting Jenny
Now some take delight when the carriages are rolling
Others take delight in the hurling and the bowling
Me, I take delight in the juice of the barley
And courting pretty Jenny in the morning bright and early
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5. |
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There's been a woman in our town
A woman you ought know well
She loved her husband dearly
And another man twice as well
CHORUS
With me right finnickineerio
Me tip finnick a wall
With me right finnickineerio
We're tipping it up to Nancy
She went down to the chemist's shop
Some remedies for to buy
"Have you anything in your chemist shop
To make me old man blind?"
"Give him eggs and marrowbones
And make him suck them all
Before he has the last one sucked
He won't see you at all."
So she gave him eggs and marrowbones
She made him suck them all
Before he had the last one sucked
He couldn't see her at all
"If in this world I cannot see
Then here I cannot stay.
I'd drown myself in the river!"
"Come on" says she, “I'll show you the way."
She led him to the river
She led him to the brim
But sly enough of Martin
It was him that shoved her in
She swam through the river
She swam through the brine
"Oh Martin, dear Martin
Don't leave your wife behind."
"Yerra shut up outa that ye silly aul fool
Don't ye know poor Martin is blind?"
There's nine in me family
And none of them is me own
I wish that each and every man
Would come and claim his own.
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6. |
Jigs I
03:11
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7. |
The Foggy Dew
04:18
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'Twas down the glen one Easter morn
To a city fair rode I.
When Ireland's line of marching men
In squadrons passed me by.
No pipe did hum, no battle drum
Did sound its dread tattoo
But the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey's swell
Rang out in the foggy dew.
Right proudly high over Dublin town
They hung out a flag of war.
'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky
Than at Suvla or Sud el Bar.
And from the plains of Royal Meath
Strong men came hurrying through;
While Brittania's sons with their long-range guns
Sailed in from the foggy dew.
'Twas England bade our wild geese go
That small nations might be free.
Their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves
On the fringe of the grey North Sea.
But had they died by Pearse's side
Or fought with Cathal Brugha,
Their graves we'd keep where the Fenians sleep
'Neath the hills of the foggy dew.
The bravest fell, and the solemn bell
Rang out mournfully and clear
For those who died that Eastertide
In the springing of the year.
And the world did gaze in deep amaze
At those fearless men and true
Who bore the fight that freedom's light
Might shine through the foggy dew.
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8. |
The Galtee Mountain Boy
03:37
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I joined the flying column in 1916
In Cork with Sean Moylan; in Tipperary with Dan Breen
Arrested by Free Staters and sentenced for to die
Farewell to Tipperary said the Galtee mountain boy
We went across the valleys and over the hilltops green
Where we met with Dinny Lacey, Sean Hogan and Dan Breen
Sean Moylan and his gallant men that kept the flag flying high
Farewell to Tipperary said the Galtee mountain boy
We tracked the Wicklow mountains we were rebels on the run
Though hunted night and morning we were outlaws but free men
We tracked the Dublin mountains as the sun was shining high
Farewell to Tipperary said the Galtee mountain boy
I’ll bid farewell to old Clonmel that I never more will see
And to the Galtee mountains that oft times sheltered me
To the men who fought for liberty and died without a sigh
May their cause be ne'er forgotten said the Galtee mountain boy
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10. |
The Night Visit
05:04
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"And who are you, me pretty fair maid, and who are you, me honey?"
She answered me quite modestly,
"I am me mother's darling."
CHORUS
With me too-ry-ay
Fol-de-diddle-day
Di-re fol-de-diddle
Dai-rie oh.
"Will you come to me mother's house, when the moon is shining clearly?
I'll open the door and I'll let you in
And devil a one would hear us."
So I went to her house in the middle of the night when the moon was shining clearly.
She opened the door and she let me in
And devil a one did hear us.
She took my horse by the bridle and the bit and she led him to the stable,
Saying "There's plenty of oats for a soldier's horse,
Leave him eat it if he's able."
Then she took me by the lily-white hand and she led me to the table,
Saying "There's plenty of wine for a soldier boy,
Drink it if you're able."
Then she got up and she made the bed and made it nice and easy
She got up, she laid me down, she said "Laddie, are you able?"
And there we lay till the break of day and devil a one did hear us
She arose, put on her clothes saying "Darling, I must leave you."
"When will I return again and when will we be married?"
"When broken shells make Christmas bells, we might well be married."
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11. |
The Parting Glass
04:09
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Oh, all the money e'er I had, I spent it in good company
And all the harm that ever I've done, alas it was to none but me
And all I've done for want of wit to mem'ry now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass, Good night and joy be with you all
If I had money enough to spend, and leisure time to rest awhile
There is a fair maid in this town, who sorely has my heart beguiled
Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips, I own she has my heart enthralled
So fill to me the parting glass, Good night and joy be with you all.
Oh, all the comrades e'er I had, they're sorry for my going away.
And all the sweethearts e'er I had, they wished me one more day to stay.
But since it falls unto my lot, that I should rise and you should not,
I will gently rise and softly call, Goodnight and joy be with you all.
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Patrick Clifford New York, New York
Patrick Clifford is an Irish-American musician, songwriter, and producer.
He performs and
records Irish traditional standards; skillfully crafted original songs and compositions; and discerning covers of contemporary Irish and American songwriters such as Pete St. John, Bob Dylan, and Bruce Springsteen.
Read more:
www.patrickclifford.com/clifford/about/
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