Irish Songs in America 1. Michael Finnigan (Anonymus) 2. Molly Malone (Cockles and Mussels) Traditional 3. Galway Bay 4. Pat on the Railway 5. The Wearin' o' the Green 6. It's a Great Day for the Irish --- 1. Michael Finnigan (Anonymus) There was an old man named Michael Finnigan Who had some whiskers on his chinnigan. He shaved them off, but they grew in again. Poor old Michael Finnigan. There was an old man named Michael Finnigan Who went off fishing with a pinnigan. He caught a fish, but it fell in again. Poor old Michael Finnigan. There was an old man named Michael Finnigan Who had a wife called Missus Finnigan. She first grew fat, and then frew thin again. Poor old Missus Finnigan. There was an old man named Michael Finnigan Who had an old dog called Rin Tin Tinnigan. He threw it out, but the wind blew it in again. Poor old Rin Tin Tinnigan. There was an old man named Michael Finnigan Who caught a cold and couldn't get well again. Then he died, and had to begin again. Poor old Michael Finnigan. --- Molly Malone (Cockles and Mussels) Traditional In Dublin's fair city, Where the girls are so pretty, I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone As she wheeled her wheelbarrow Through streets broad and narrow, Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive-o!" CHORUS: Alive, alive-o! Alive, alive-o! Crying, "Cockles and mussels, Alive, alive-o!" She was a fishmonger, And sure 'twas no wonder, For so were her father and mother before, And they each wheeled their barrow Through streets broad and narrow, Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive-o!" CHORUS She died of a fever, And no one could save her, And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone, But her ghost wheels her barrow Through streets broad and narrow, Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive-o!" CHORUS --- Galway Bay If you ever go across the sea to Ireland, Then maybe at the closing of your day, You will sit and watch the moon rise over Claddagh And see the sun go down on Galway Bay. Just to hear again the ripple of the trout stream, The women in the meadows making hay, And to sit beside a turf fire in the cabin, And watch the barefoot gossoons at their play. For the breezes blowing o'er the seas from Ireland, And perfum'd by the heather as they blow, And the women in the uplands diggin' praties, Speak a language that the strangers do not know. For the strangers came and tried to teach us their ways, They scorn'd us just for being what we are, But they might as well go chasing after moonbeams, Or light a penny candle from a star. And if there is going to be life hereafter, And somehow I am sure there's going to be, I will ask my God to let me make my heaven In that dear land across the Irish sea. --- Pat on the Railway . Railroad Ballad. In eighteen hundred and forty one I put me corduroy breeches on, I put me corduroy breeches on To work upon the railway. CHORUS: Fil-i-me-oo-ree-eye-ree-ay, Fil-i-me-oo-ree-eye-ree-ay, Fil-i-me-oo-ree-eye-ree-ay, To work upon the railway. It's "Pat, do this" and "Pat, do that", Without a stocking or cravat, And nothing but an old straw hat, While Pat works on the railway. CHORUS And, when Pat lays him down to sleep, The wiry bugs around him creep, And hardly a bit can poor Pat sleep, While he works on the railway. CHORUS --- The Wearin' o' the Green Oh, Paddy dear! an' did ye hear the news that's goin' round? The Shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground! Saint Patrick's Day no more we'll keep, his color can't be seen, For there's a cruel law agin the wearin' o' the green! I met with Mapper Tandy, and he took me by the hand, And said, "How's poor old Ireland, and how does she stand?" "She's the most distressfull country that ever yet was seen, They're hangin' men and women there for wearin' o' the green!" But if at last the color should be torn from Ireland's heart, Her sons with shame and sorrow from the dear old isle will depart, I've heard the whisper of the land that lies beyond the sea, Where rich and poor stand equal in the light of freedom's day. Ah, Erin, must we leave you driven by a tyrant's hand, Must we seek a mother's blessing from a strange and distant land, Where the cruel cross of England shall never more be seen, And where, please God, we'll live and die still wearin' o' the green. She's the most distressfull country that ever yet was seen, They're hangin' men and women there for wearin' o' the green, They're hangin' folks in Ireland for wearin' o' the green! --- It's a Great Day for the Irish Oh, I woke me up this morning And I heard a joyful song From the throats of happy Irishmen, A hundred thousand strong, Sure it was the Hibernian Brigade Lining up for to start the big parade, So I fetched me Sunday bonnet, And the flag I love so well, And I bought meself a shamrock Just to wear in me lapel, Don't you know that today's March Seventeen? It's the day for wearin' o' the Green! It's a great day for the Irish, It's a great day for fair! The sidewalks of New York are thick with Blarney, For sure you'd think New York was Old Killarney! It's a great day for the Shamrock, For the flags in full array, We're feeling so inspirish, Sure because for all the Irish, It's a great, great day! It's a great day for the Irish, It's a great day for fair! Begosh, there's not a Cop to stop a raiding, Begorry all the Cops are out parading! It's a great day for the Shamrock, For the flags in full array, We're feeling so inspirish, Sure because for all the Irish, It's a great, great day! ---