Lyrics

There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet Oh! The last rays of feeling and life must depart Ere t

I have seen you tossing restless between midnight and day, Paying all the debts of many years, Staring out the window till the mist has burned away, Waitin

I’m a weaver, a Carlton Weaver I’m a a rash and a-roving blade I’ve got silver in my pockets And I follow the roving trade Whiskey, Whiskey, Nancy Whiskey

There was an ould woman in Belfast did dwell Constipation was giving her hell She went to the doctor cause she couldn’t @*$#& So he gave her a bottle to ma

Chorus: There was Peter sitting in the corner fiddle in his hand Playing away like you never did hear and you’ll never hear again Charlie on banjo, Shorty

Patrick McGinty, an Irishman of note Came into a fortune, so bought himself a goat Said he, “Sure, of goat’s milk I mean to have my fill!” But when he got

Gentle men it is my duty To inform you of one beauty Though I’d ask you of a favor, Not to seek her for a while Though I own she is a creature Of character

Summer smiling on the city, it’s another lovely day in Sydney Sunshine pouring down like honey in a golden water fall But in the room where Claire is dying

A lonely wave is breaking on the rocky Antrim shore And the sighing winds are a keening oe’r the water’s solemn roar The seabirds sweep to Heaven with a lo

Well I’ve been a Sunday driver now for many’s a happy year And I’ve never had my Morris-Miner in route to second gear I can drive at 15 miles an hour on mo