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Chance of a Start

by Patrick Clifford

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1.
The Ferryman 03:19
The little boats are gone from the banks of Anna Liffey The ferrymen are stranded on the quays The Dublin docks is dying, and a way of life is gone And Molly, it was part of you and me Where the strawberry beds sweep down to the Liffey You kiss away the worries from my brow I love you well today and I'll love you more tomorrow If you ever loved me, Molly, love me now It was the only life I knew, it was hard but never lonely The River Liffey made a man of me Now it's gone without a whisper, forgotten even now Sure it's over, Molly-- over, can't you see So now I'll tend the yard and I'll spend my days in talking And I hear them whisper "Charlie's on the dole" But Molly, we're still living, and darling, we're still young And that river never owned me heart and soul.
2.
Pole to Pole 03:40
Got a head of things to tell you Got a good mind to do it, too Got a will that will not be denied So much time I’ve spent, so long content To let ignorance be my guide Come on, take a look My mind’s an open book Come and see what someone’s scribbled inside: “Happiness, it’s clear, is happening here, And happiness will abide.” Is it heart or mind or body Or all of the above? O my love That gets my pulse to racing, Sets me sailing pole to pole? O my soul Tell your ma, tell your pa Send them back to gape in awe Tell my friends, too, I don’t care a bit Tell the news, tell the world You’re my It Girl When I met you I said “that’s it” Get the sitter on the phone Get your red dress on Got to get you into my hands All true, all true And all because you make me feel like a natural man Didn’t know any better Didn’t know any worse Didn’t know what what was missing implied And didn’t a deep, wide, high, long emptiness come While I was otherwise occupied So much time I spent, so long content To be tumbling out of control Into a big black hole O my soul O my soul
3.
Rent’s late again, skies are all gray You wish you could be 100 miles away If you only had the money you’d go She’s complaining again, about this, that, and drinking: “Don’t you know, can’t you see how low you’ve been sinking?” All you know is that you don’t want to know All the dreams you had last night are all gone Scattered like moonlight with the morning sun You hear the wind whisper as it blows where it will And the rain tapping on the bar windowsill You sit there waiting for some kind of sign Close your eyes, remember old times, old places All names forgotten, but you still see the faces Till you’re brought back to New York By the passing subway line All the dreams you had last night are all gone Scattered like moonlight with the morning sun Starting to feel the sharp pinch of hope But the end of your money, the end of your rope Are all that’s ever left to you at the end of the day Pick up the receiver, listen to the tone Try to remember her number And how to dial a phone Try to remember what you meant to say All the dreams you had last night are all gone Shattered like moonlight with the morning sun And all the things she said still cut to the bone But fade into the distance, like the last train going home
4.
I'm a freeborn man of the traveling people Got no fixed abode; with nomads I am numbered Country lanes and byways were always my ways I never fancied being lumbered O we knew the woods and the resting places And the small birds sang when winter days were over Then we'd pack our load and be on the road They were good old times for a rover There was open ground where a man could linger Stay a week or two, for time was not your master Then away you'd jog with your horse and dog Nice and easy, no need to go faster I've known life hard and I've known it easy And I've cursed the times when winter days were dawning But I've danced and sung through the whole night long Seen the summer sun rise in the morning All you freeborn men of the traveling people Every tinker, rolling stone, and gypsy rover Winds of change are blowing, old ways are going Your traveling days will soon be over
5.
A hungry feeling came o'er me stealing And the mice they were squealing in my prison cell And that auld triangle, went jingle jangle All along the banks of the Royal Canal To begin the morning, the warden bawling Get up out of bed you, and clean out your cell And that auld triangle, went jingle jangle All along the banks of the Royal Canal Oh the screw was peeping and the lag was sleeping As he lay weeping for his girl Sal And that auld triangle, went jingle jangle All along the banks of the Royal Canal On a fine spring evening, the lag lay dreaming And the seagulls were wheeling high above the wall And that auld triangle, went jingle jangle All along the banks of the Royal Canal Oh the wind was sighing, and the day was dying As the lag lay crying in his prison cell And that auld triangle, went jingle jangle All along the banks of the Royal Canal In the female prison there are 75 women And it's there amongst them I wish that I did dwell Then that auld triangle, could go jingle jangle All along the banks of the Royal Canal
6.
With our nets and gear we're faring On the wild and wasteful ocean It's there on the deep That we harvest and reap As we hunt the bonny shoals of herring Oh, it was a fine and a pleasant day Out of Yarmouth harbour I was faring As a cabin boy on a sailing lugger For to go and hunt the shoals of herring We had left the home grounds in the month of June And to canny Shields we soon were bearing With a hundred cran of the silver darlings That we'd taken from the shoals of herring Now the work was hard and the hours were long And the treatment sure it took some bearing There was little kindness and the kicks were many As we hunted for the shoals of herring Oh, we fished the Sward and the Broken Bank I was cook and I'd a quarter-share in And I used to sleep standing on my feet And I'd dream about the shoals of herring In the stormy seas and the living gale Just to earn your daily bread you're daring From the Dover Straits to the Farroe Islands While you're following the shoals of herring Now you're up on deck, you're a fisherman You can swear and show a manly bearing Take your turn on watch with the other fellows While you're following the shoals of herring Well, I earned my keep and I paid my way And I earned the gear that I was wearing Sailed a million miles, caught 10 million fishes We was following the shoals of herring
7.
I joined the flying column in 1916 In Cork with Sean Moylan; Tipperary with Dan Breen Arrested by Free-Staters and sentenced for to die, Farewell to Tipperary, said the Galtee Mountain Boy We crossed through pleasant valleys and over hilltops green Where we met with Dinny Lacey, Sean Hogan, and Dan Breen, Sean Moylan and his gallant men, who kept the flag flying high Farewell to Tipperary, said the Galtee Mountain Boy We trekked the Wicklow mountains, rebels on the run Hunted night and morning, we were outlaws but free men We crossed the Dublin mountains; the sun was shining high Farewell to Tipperary, said the Galtee Mountain Boy So I'll bid farewell: To old Clonmel, that I never more will see, And to the Galtee Mountains that ofttimes sheltered me, And to the men who fought for liberty and died without a sigh. May their cause be ne'er forgotten, said the Galtee Mountain Boy.
8.
Don’t look now but I think you slipped Let something past that you didn’t mean to say Was it something you did? Don’t speak it now Some things you can’t just explain away Over and over, I tried to reach you To touch you, to feel you, to tell you I need you To look you in the eye and have you look back It’s too late Don’t look now I’m not here Cry if you like, but I won’t give you the pleasure There’s truth to the lie that reason becomes a man Shed a tear for the past There’s a prayer for the rest For the things that I can’t do and the things that I can Over and over I tried to reach you To touch you, to feel you, to tell you I need you To look you in the eye and have you look back It’s too late Don’t look now I can’t see you anymore
9.
Travel 05:07
Away on a silent sea Cries soothed like a child’s To prayers and silences Out on the sway of the sea Music in the stilling night “Nearer My God, to Thee” Afloat, adrift, alone In the dark depth of sky An open road of receding red lights The moon sails by, like the years Each step takes me away Nearer, my heart, ever nearer You fill my thoughts You fill my sails Music on a silent sea of doubt This heart is truer than the lies I’ve told you This heart we’ve both tried to figure out Away at the edge of this boundless sky You sleep Out of harm, out of view Someday I will return Nearer, my love, to you Someday soon I’ll take my first steps back Nearer, my love, to you
10.
All the money e'er I had, I spent it in good company And all the harm that e'er I've done, alas it was to none but me And all I've done for want of wit, to memory 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. All the comrades that e'er I had, they're sorry for my going away. And all the sweethearts that 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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released October 1, 2012

Produced by Patrick Clifford

Randy Decker: Drums/Percussion, backing vocals
Marty Guilfoyle: Accordion
Wolf Hul: Fiddle
Ed Hummel: Fiddle
Peter Kane: Fiddle
Martin Kelleher: Backing vocals
Judy Minot: Vocals
Dan O'Dea: Fiddle, mandolin*
Mark Stewart: Bouzouki
David Yeates: Backing vocals
Jane, Grace, and Bennett: Backing vocals

Otherwise performed by Patrick Clifford

Recording assistance: Courtney Greenwood and Peter Kane.

Executive Producers: Linda Zdepski, Linda Jeffers, Martin Rutherford, Bernadette Clifford, Wolf Hul, Jim Clare.

Thanks to Jane— as always; for always.

Thanks also to Randy, Marty, Wolf, Ed, Pete, Martin, Judy, Dan, Mark, and Dave, Grace, Bennett; Courtney; my executive producers and sponsors; Jenny Greenwood; WDVR-FM (Sergeantsville, NJ; wdvrfm.org); Spruce Run Lutheran Church (Glen Gardner, NJ; SpruceRunLutheran.com).

* Dan O'Dea plays Breedlove instruments.

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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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