Author name: beerbellycollection

I close my eyes and picture the emerald of the sea From the fishing boats at Dingle To the shores of Dona’dee I miss the River Shannon and folks at Skibere

Darkened years of winter have passed Summer waits for spring before it lives Blanket clad and wasted the winter has been long No gleam of hope a thoughtles

The little boat had gone from the breast of An Liffey And the Ferrymen were stranded on the Quay Ah the Dublin docks are dying and a way of life is gone An

As I walked by the dockside one evening so fair To view the salt water and take the sea air I heard an old fisherman singing a song Won’t you take ma away

There’s many a date in history of which the poet sings, Of battles won and battles lost, of emperors and kings. But the fifth day of October stays in my me

Ah Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin Street, A gentleman Irish mighty odd Well he had a tongue both rich and sweet, An’ to rise in the world he carried a hod Ah

I can hear the bells of Dublin in this lonely waiting room And the Paper-boys are singing in the rain Not be long before they take us to the Airport and th

My name is Arthur Hollandin, as you may understand I was born ten miles from Dublin Town, down on the salt-sea strand, When I was young and’ comely, sure,

‘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 D

Lift MacCahir Og your face brooding o’er the old disgrace That black FitzWilliam stormed your place, drove you to the Fern Grey said victory was sure soon