Irish song lyrics | Besedila irskih pesmi

Y

Total lyrics: 8


YOU MIGHT EASY KNOW A DOFFER

You might easy know a doffer
When she comes into town
With her long yellow hair
And her pickers hanging down
With her rubber tied before her
And her scraper in her hand
You will easy know a doffer
For she'll always get a man
  Oh, she'll always get a man
  Oh, she'll always get a man
  You will easy know a doffer
  For she'll always get a man

You might easy know a weaver
When she comes into town
With her old greasy hair
And her scissors hanging down
With a shawl around her shoulders
And a shuttle in her hand
You will easy know a weaver
For she'll never get a man
  No, she'll never get a man
  No, she'll never get a man
  You will easy know a weaver
  For she'll never get a man.


BAND | DISCOGRAPHY | PHOTOS | CONCERTS | LYRICS | BUY

Back On Top | Back to World Celtic Music | Back To Main Lyrics page


Ye Jacobites By Name

Ye Jacobites by name give an ear, give an ear
Ye Jacobites by name give an ear
Ye Jacobites by name your faults I will proclaim
Your doctrines I must blame, you shall hear.

What is right and what is wrong by the law, by the law
What is right and what is wrong by the law
What is right and what is wrong, a short sword and a long
A weak arm and a strong for to draw.

What makes heroic strife famed afar, famed afar?
What makes heroic strife famed afar?
What makes heroic strife, to whet the assassin's knife
Or hunt a parent's life with bloody war.

Then leave your schemes alone in the state, in the state
Then leave your schemes alone in the state
Then leave your schemes alone, adore the rising sun
And leave a man alone to his fate.

Then leave your schemes alone, adore the rising sun
And leave a man alone to his fate...
And leave a man alone to his fate.


BAND | DISCOGRAPHY | PHOTOS | CONCERTS | LYRICS | BUY

Back On Top | Back to World Celtic Music | Back To Main Lyrics page


 

 

YE CANNA SHOVE YER GRANNY

Oh ye cannae shove yer grannie aff the bus,
Oh ye cannae shove yer grannie aff the bus,
Ye cannae shove yer grannie
For she's yer mammie's mammie,
Ye canna shove yer grannie aff the bus.

O ye canna shove yer Granny aff a bus,
O ye canna shove yer Granny aff a bus,
O ye canna shove yer Granny
’Cos she's yer Mammy's Mammy
O ye canna shove yer Granny aff a bus.

Ye can shove yer ither Granny aff a bus.
Ye can shove yer ither Granny aff a bus.
Ye can shove yer ither Granny
’Cos she's yer Faither's Mammy
Ye can shove yer ither Granny aff a bus.

Ye can shove yer Uncle Wullie aff a bus.
Ye can shove yer Uncle Wullie affa bus.
Uncle Wullie's like yer Faither
A harum-scarum blether,
Ye can shove yer Uncle Wullie aff a bus.

Ye can shove yer Auntie Maggie aff a bus.
Ye can shove Auntie Maggie aff a bus.
Auntie Meg's yer Faither's sister,
She's naethin' but a twister,
Ye can shove yer Auntie Maggie aff a bus.

But ye canna shove yer Granny aff a bus.
O ye canna shove yer Granny aff a bus.
O ye canna shove yer Granny,
’Cos she's yer Mammy's Mammy,
O ye canna shove yer Granny aff a bus.

Singing I will if you will, so will I; singing I will if you will, so will I;
Singing I will if you will, I will if you will, I will if you will, so will I.


BAND | DISCOGRAPHY | PHOTOS | CONCERTS | LYRICS | BUY

Back On Top | Back to World Celtic Music | Back To Main Lyrics page


 

 

 

YELLOW ON THE BROOM, THE

When the yellow's on the broom
When the yellow's on the broom
I'll tak' ye on the road again
When the yellow's on the broom

I ken ye dinna like it, lass, tae winter here in toon
For the scaldies aye miscry us and they try tae put us doon
But it's hard to raise three bairns in a single flea-box room
So I'll tak' ye on the road again when yellow's on the broom

The scaldies call us 'tinker dirt' and strike our bairns in school
Who cares what a scaldy thinks a scaldy's just a fool
He never hears the yorlin's song nor sees the flax in bloom
For they're a' cooped up in hooses when the yellow's on the broom

No sale for pegs or baskets so just to stay alive
We have tae work at scaldy jobs from nine o'clock till five
But we call no man our master for we own the world's room
And we'll bid fareweel tae Brechin when the yellow's on the broom

I'm weary for the springtime tae tak' the road yince mair
For the plantin' and the pearlin' and the berry fields of Blair
We'll meet up wi' oor kinfolk from a' the country roon'
When the ganaboot folk tak' the road and the yellow's on the broom


BAND | DISCOGRAPHY | PHOTOS | CONCERTS | LYRICS | BUY

Back On Top | Back to World Celtic Music | Back To Main Lyrics page


 

 

YESTERDAY'S MEN

Twas Joey the weasel that gave us the wire
We were closing our factory down
Though we didn't believe and we called him a liar
The redundancy letters came round
As we read them in silence I choked back a tear
It was to believe after twenty odd years

Chorus:
Farewell my companions, me friends and me work mates
Farewell to the pay days, the pints and the crack
For we gave them our best years, now they've paid us back
By making us yesterday's me, sure as hell, by making us yesterday's men

So we said our goodbyes by the factory gate
One cold Friday evening last year
And I saw it all there in the eyes of me mates
The anger, the sadness, the fear
Like our fathers before us we worked there pride
Now we fought back the bitterness burning inside

Chorus

Now Jenny said she'd give the kids a few bob
After all sure it is Friday night
Ah how could I tell her I was out of the job
From now things were gonna be tight
How well I remember it cut like a knife
I was never a day on the dole in my life

Chorus

The machines now are silent, the work bench is bare
And there's dust on the factory floor
They've boarded the windows and chained up the gate
And padlocked the factory door
Now I'm on the scrap heap and I'm thirty-nine
Just one of the hundreds shot down in me prime

Chorus
Chorus


BAND | DISCOGRAPHY | PHOTOS | CONCERTS | LYRICS | BUY

Back On Top | Back to World Celtic Music | Back To Main Lyrics page


YOU CAN'T GET PETROL

In days of old, when we were told by bold Sean McEntee
To take it easy on the bread, the baccy and the tea,
We never thought we'd live to see the likes of it once more
When our visions of provisions, they were swept out of the door

Chorus:
You can't get petrol, you can try it if you can
'Tis nowhere to be had except Araby or Iran,
You can steal it, you can siphon it, risk it if you like
But you'd be better off resorting to your old Pierce bike.

We seem to be dependant on the derricks of the East
Where recently supplies from them to us have almost ceased,
It's a pity if your patience and your pride is getting hurt
So join the queue you sucker for your ten bob's worth

Chorus

Besided the Petrol shortage, there's also the ESB
Bord na Mona turf and briquettes and all sorts of energy
As we know the poor old pensioners were given it buckshee
God help us when the winter comes, 'tis cold that they will be

Chorus

The petrol queues are growing every day, I tell no lie
Some are almost two miles long, 'twould make laugh or cry
With rationing, they're cashing in, I mean those garage boys
With plenty stock, they're waiting for the next price rise

Chorus

I'm told that on the Continent, the story is worse still
And recently the Dutch have launched an anti-driving bill
With horses, drays and bicycles they'll all be very fit
And no traffic jams a-wreaking havoc with their wit

Chorus

They tell us there's confusion neath the Oriental clime
The Arabs and the Jew boys, they are at it fairly fine
With bullets flying East and West and down the firing-line
With Russians and the Yankees a-watching all the time

Chorus


BAND | DISCOGRAPHY | PHOTOS | CONCERTS | LYRICS | BUY

Back On Top | Back to World Celtic Music | Back To Main Lyrics page


 

 

YOUNG NED OF THE HILL

Did you ever walk the lonesome hills or hear the curlews cry
Or see the raven black as night upon a windswept sky
To walk the purple heather, and hear the west wind sigh
To know that's where the rapparee must die
To know that's where the rapperee must die

Since Cromwell drove us westward to live our lowly lives
Some of us have deemed to fight from Tipperary hills on high
Noble men with wills of iron who are not afraid to die
Who'll fight with Gaelic honour held on high
Of one such man I'd like to speak, a rapparee by name and deed
His family dispossessed and slaughtered, he fought the English breed
His name is known in song and story, his deeds are legend still
I'll tell you now the sorry tale of Young Ned of the Hill

Chorus:
You can rob our homes and fortunes; you can drive us from our land
You can try to break our spirit but you'll never understand
The love of dear old Ireland that will forge an iron will
As long as there are gallant men like Young Ned of the Hill

A scourge to the redcoat soldiers with a price upon his head
To tempt a weaker soul to tell them where he kept his bed
One night as he lay sleeping, his head beside his sword
Murdered by his cousin Dwyer, to claim a coward's reward

The day the cur O'Dwyer murdered Young Ned in his bed
He went for his blood money but was gaoled himself instead
Poor Ned he had been pardoned the very day before
And a noose upon the gallows was O'Dwyer's just reward

Chorus

A curse upon you Oliver Cromwell who raped our motherland
I hope you're rotting down in Hell for the horrors that you sent
To our misfortunate forefathers who you robbed of their birthright
"To Hell or Connaught!" may you burn in Hell tonight.

Chorus


BAND | DISCOGRAPHY | PHOTOS | CONCERTS | LYRICS | BUY

Back On Top | Back to World Celtic Music | Back To Main Lyrics page


 

 

YOUR DAUGHTERS AND YOUR SONS

They didn't hear your music and they tore your paintings down
They wouldn't read your writing and they banned you from the town
But they couldn't stop you dreaming, and a victory you've won
For you sowed the seeds of freedom in your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
You sowed the seeds of freedom in your daughters and your sons

Your weary smile, it proudly hides the chain-marks on your hands
For you've bravely strived to realise the rights of everyone
But though your body's bent and low, a victory you've won
For you sowed the seeds of justice in your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
You sowed the seeds of justice in your daughters and your sons

I don't know your religion but one day I heard you pray
For a world where everyone can work and children they can play
And though you never got your share and the fruits that you have won
You sowed the seeds of equality in your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
You sowed the seeds of equality in your daughters and your sons

They taunted you in Belfast and they tortured you in Spain
And in that Warsaw ghetto where they tied you up in chains
In Vietnam and Chile, when they came with tanks and guns
It's there you sowed the seeds of peace in your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
It's there you sowed the seeds of peace in your daughters and your sons

And now your music's playing, and the writing's on the wall
And all the dreams you painted can be seen by one and all
And now you've got them thinking, and the future's just begun
For you sowed the seeds of freedom in your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
You sowed the seeds of freedom in your daughters and your sons


BAND | DISCOGRAPHY | PHOTOS | CONCERTS | LYRICS | BUY

Back On Top | Back to World Celtic Music | Back To Main Lyrics page


 

 

 

 

 

  • Main Page - Beer Belly
  • Discography
  • Photos
  • Buy CD
  • Gigs | Concerts
  • Contact
  • Irish Song Lyrics
  • Irish Session Reels
  • This Week's Favorite Irish Video
Got a band? Introduce your music to millions of potential fans!