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George Harrison of Beatles fame took the ferry to Ireland regularly to visit his cousins in Drumcondra. This is him with his mother Louise and brother Pete on O’Connell Street pictured by the man on the bridge Arthur Fields. #IrishFact
927,399 viewsMay 17, 20093.4K242ShareSaveNdB 971 subscribers a video with pictures of Croagh Patrick song: Green and Red of Mayo by Saw Doctors
Lyrics
Oh the Green and Red of Mayo I can see it still It’s soft and craggy boglands It’s tall majestic hills Where the ocean kisses Ireland And the waves carress it’s shore Oh the feelin’ it came over me To stay forever more Forever more
From it’s rollin’ coastal waters I can see Croagh Patrick’s peak Where one Sunday every Summer The pilgrims climb the reek Where Saint Patrick in it’s solitude Looked down across Clew Bay And With the ringin’ of his bell Called the faithful there to pray There to pray
Oh take me to Clare Island The home of Granuaile It’s waters harbour fishes From the herring to the whale And now I must depart it And reality is plain May the time not pass so slowly ‘Fore I set sail again Set sail again
Oh the Green and Red of Mayo I can see it still It’s soft and craggy boglands It’s tall majestic hills Where the ocean kisses Ireland And the waves carress it’s shore Oh the feelin’ it came over me To stay forever more Forever more
Stay forever more
Oh the Green and Red of Mayo Oh the Green and Red of Mayo Oh the Green and Red of Mayo Oh the Green and Red of Mayo
On Raglan Road on an autumn day I saw her first and knew That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue; I saw the danger, yet I passed along the enchanted way, And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.
On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion’s pledge, The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay Oh I loved too much and by such by such is happiness thrown away.
I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that’s known To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone And word and tint without stint for I gave her poems to say. With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow That I had loved not as I should a creature made of clay When the angel woos the clay he’d lose his wings at the dawn of day.
1,248 views Premiered Sep 13, 2024CAST/CREW HER – Jordanne Jones HIM – Jack Gavin DIRECTOR – Edelle Kenny PRODUCER – Órla Morris Toolen DOP – Ignas Laugalis 1ST AC – James Marnell GAFFER – Eoghan Hand BEST BOY – Evan Hayes EDITOR – Annie Walsh COLOURIST – Natalia Witkowska, Element Post/VFX SPECIAL THANKS – Ciara Kirwan, Mick Flood Song by Greg Kearns, Nicole Lyons, Ruairi Forde and Frank O’Flaherty Produced by Alex Borwick
27,856 views Mar 13, 2021Clancy Brothers & Tommy Makem “The Rising Of The Moon” on The Ed Sullivan Show on March 12, 1961. Subscribe now to never miss an update: https://ume.lnk.to/EdSullivanSubscribe
Now when I was a young man, I carried me pack And I lived the free life of the rover From the Murray’s green basin to the dusty outback Well, I waltzed my Matilda all over Then in 1915, my country said “son It’s time you stopped rambling, there’s work to be done” So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun And they marched me away to the war
And the band played Waltzing Matilda As the ship pulled away from the quay And amidst all the cheers, the flag-waving and tears We sailed off for Gallipoli
And how well I remember that terrible day How our blood stained the sand and the water And of how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter Johnny Turk, he was waiting, he’d primed himself well He showered us with bullets and he rained us with shell And in five minutes flat, he’d blown us all to hell Nearly blew us right back to Australia
But the band played Waltzing Matilda When we stopped to bury our slain We buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs Then we started all over again
And those that were left, well we tried to survive In that mad world of blood, death and fire And for ten weary weeks, I kept myself alive Though around me the corpses piled higher Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head And when I woke up in me hospital bed And saw what it had done, well I wished I was dead Never knew there was worse things than dyin’
For I’ll go no more waltzing Matilda All around the green bush far and free To hump tent and pegs, a man needs both legs No more waltzing Matilda for me
So they gathered the crippled, the wounded, the maimed And they shipped us back home to Australia The legless, the armless, the blind, the insane Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay I looked at the place where me legs used to be And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me To grieve, to mourn, and to pity
But the band played Waltzing Matilda As they carried us down the gangway But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared Then they turned all their faces away
And so now every April, I sit on me porch And I watch the parades pass before me And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march Reviving old dreams of past glories And the old men march slowly, old bones stiff and sore They’re tired old heroes from a forgotten war And the young people ask, “what are they marching for?” And I ask myself the same question
But the band plays Waltzing Matilda And the old men still answer the call But as year follows year, more old men disappear Someday no one will march there at all
Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me? And their ghosts may be heard As they march by that billabong Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
67,806 views May 6, 2012Daniel performs the popular Irish ballad by Percy French at the Green Glens Arena in Millstreet, County Cork on New Year’s Eve 1994. Lyrics The Garden of Eden has vanished, they say But I know the lie of it still; Just turn to the left at the bridge of Finea And stop when halfway to Cootehill. ‘Tis there I will find it, I know sure enough When fortune has come to me call, Oh the grass it is green around Ballyjamesduff And the blue sky is over it all. And tones that are tender and tones that are gruff Are whispering over the sea, Come back, Paddy Reilly to Ballyjamesduff Come home, Paddy Reilly, to me. My mother once told me that when I was born The day that I first saw the light, I looked down the street on that very first morn And gave a great crow of delight. Now most newborn babies appear in a huff, And start with a sorrowful squall, But I knew I was born in Ballyjamesduff And that’s why I smiled on them all. The baby’s a man, now he’s toil-worn and tough Still, whispers come over the sea, Come back, Paddy Reilly to Ballyjamesduff Come home, Paddy Reilly, to me. The night that we danced by the light of the moon, Wid Phil to the fore wid his flute, When Phil threw his lip over Come Again Soon, He’s dance the foot out o’ yer boot! The day that I took long Magee by the scruff For slanderin’ Rosie Kilrain, Then, marchin’ him straight out of Ballyjamesduff, Assisted him into a drain. Oh, sweet are the dreams, as the dudeen I puff, Of whisperings over the sea, Come back, Paddy Reilly to Ballyjamesduff Come home, Paddy Reilly, to me. I’ve loved the young women of every land, That always came easy to me; Just barrin’ the belles of the Black-a-moor brand And the chocolate shapes of Feegee. But that sort of love is a moonshiny stuff, And never will addle me brain, For the bells will be ringin’ in Ballyjamesduff For me and me Rosie Kilrain! And through all their glamour, their gas and their guff A whisper comes over the sea, Come back, Paddy Reilly to Ballyjamesduff Come home, Paddy Reilly, to me. Encore verse I’ve struck oil at last! I’ve struck work, and I vow I’ve struck some remarkable clothes, I’ve struck a policeman for sayin’ that now, I’d go back to my beautiful Rose. The belles they may blarney, the boys they may bluff But this I will always maintain, No place in the world like Ballyjamesduff No guril (sic) like Rosie Kilrain. I’ve paid for my passage, the sea may be rough But borne on each breeze there will be, Come back, Paddy Reilly to Ballyjamesduff Come home, Paddy Reilly, to me.