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Come Fill Your Glass With Us

by The Clancy Brothers And Tommy Makem

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1.
Whisky you're the devil You're leading me astray Over hills and mountains And to Amerikay You're sweeter, stronger, decenter, And spunkier than tea Oh whisky you're my darling drunk or sober Now brave boys, we're on for march Off to Portugal and Spain Drums are beating, banners flying The Devil all home we'll come tonight Love, fare thee well With me tithery-aye me doodle-ah-m'dah Me tithery-aye me doodle-ah-m'dah Me rikes fall to ra laddie-o There's whisky in the jar Hey! Whisky you're the devil You're leading me astray Over hills and mountains And to Amerikay You're sweeter, stronger, decenter, And spunkier than tea Oh whisky you're my darling drunk or sober Says the mother do not wrong me Don't take me daughter from me For if you do I will torment you An' after death, my ghost will haunt you Love, fare thee well With me tithery-aye me doodle-ah-m'dah Me tithery-aye me doodle-ah-m'dah Me rikes fall to ra laddie-o There's whisky in the jar Hey! Whisky you're the devil You're leading me astray Over hills and mountains And to Amerikay You're sweeter, stronger, decenter, And spunkier than tea Oh whisky you're my darling drunk or sober Now, the French are fighting boldly Men are dying hot and coldly Give every man his flask of powder His firelock on his shoulder Love, fare thee well With me tithery-aye me doodle-ah-m'dah Me tithery-aye me doodle-ah-m'dah Me rikes fall to ra laddie-o There's whisky in the jar Hey! Whisky you're the devil You're leading me astray Over hills and mountains And to Amerikay You're sweeter, stronger, decenter, And spunkier than tea Oh whisky you're my darling drunk or sober
2.
Come all ye lads and lasses, and hear my mournful tale, Ye tender hearts that weep for love to sigh you will not fail, 'Tis all about a young man, and my song will tell you how He lately came a-courtin' of the Maid of the Sweet Brown Knowe. Said he, "My pretty young fair maid, could you and I agree, To join our hands in wedlock bands, and married we will be; We'll join our hands in wedlock bands, and you'll have my plighted vow, That I'll do my whole endeavors for the Maid of the Sweet Brown Knowe. Now this young and pretty fickle thing, she knew not what to say, Her eyes did shine like silver bright, and merrily did play; Says she, "Young man, your love subdue, I am not ready now, And I'll spend another season at the foot of the Sweet Brown Knowe." "Oh," says he, "My pretty young fair maid, now why do you say so? Look down in yonder valley where my verdant crops do grow. Look down in yonder valley at my horses and my plough, All at their daily labor for the Maid of the Sweet Brown Knowe." "If they're at their daily labor, kind sir, it is not for me. I've heard of your behavior, I have, kind sir, " said she; "There is an inn where you drop in, I've heard the people say, Where you rap and you call and you pay for all, and go home by the break of day." "If I rap and I call and I pay for all, my money is all my own. I've never spent aught of your fortune, for I hear that you've got none. You thought you had my poor heart broke in talkin' to you now, But I'll leave you where I found you, at the foot of the Sweet Brown Knowe."
3.
I'm a rambler, I'm a gambler, I'm a long way from home And if you don't like me, well, leave me alone I'll eat when I'm hungry, I'll drink when I'm dry And the moonshine don't kill me, I'll live til I die I've been a moonshiner for many a year I've spent all me money on whiskey and beer I'll go to some hollow, I'll set up my still And I'll make you a gallon for a ten shilling bill I'm a rambler, I'm a gambler, I'm a long way from home And if you don't like me, well, leave me alone I'll eat when I'm hungry, I'll drink when I'm dry And the moonshine don't kill me, I'll live til I die I'll go to some hollow in this counterie Ten gallons of wash I can go on a spree No women to follow, the world is all mine I love none so well as I love the moonshine I'm a rambler, I'm a gambler, I'm a long way from home And if you don't like me, well, leave me alone I'll eat when I'm hungry, I'll drink when I'm dry And the moonshine don't kill me, I'll live til I die Oh, moonshine, dear moonshine, oh, how I love thee You killed me old father, but ah you try me Now bless all moonshiners and bless all moonshine Their breath smells as sweet as the dew on the vine I'm a rambler, I'm a gambler, I'm a long way from home And if you don't like me, well, leave me alone I'll eat when I'm hungry, I'll drink when I'm dry And the moonshine don't kill me, I'll live til I die
4.
Ye maids of Dulhallow who are anxious for courtin' a word of advice I will give unto ye preceed to the Banteeer to the athletic sporting and give in your names to the Club Committee and never commence any sketch of your program till the carriage you see coming over the hill all down through the valleys and glens of Kilcorney with the Muskerry sportsman, the Bold Thaddy Quill for ramblin for rovin for football and sportin' for drinkin' black porter as fast as you fill in all you days rovin' you'll find none so jovial as the Muskerry sportsman the Bold Thaddy Quill At the great hurling match between Cork and Tipperary that was held in the park on the banks of the Lee our own darling boys were afraid of being beaten so they sent for Bold Thaddy in Ballinagree well he hurled the ball left and right in their faces he showed those Tipperary boys daring and skill If they touched on his lines he would certainly brain them and the papers sang praises of the Bold Thaddy Quill At the Cork Exhibition there was a fair maiden who's fortune exceeded one million or more but a poor constitution had ruined her completely and medical treatment had failed o're and o're Ah mother she says sure I know what will ease me and all the diseases most certainly kill give over your potions and medical treatment I'd rather one squeeze from the Bold Thaddy Quill
5.
I've traveled all over this world And now to another I go And I know that good quarters are waiting To welcome old Rosin the Bow To welcome old Rosin the Bow To welcome old Rosin the Bow And I know that good quarters are waiting To welcome old Rosin the Bow When I'm dead and laid out on the counter, A voice you will hear from below Sayin', "Send down a hogshead of whiskey To drink with old Rosin the Bow!" To drink with old Rosin the Bow To drink with old Rosin the Bow Sayin', "Send down a hogshead of whiskey To drink with old Rosin the Bow!" Then get a half dozen stout fellas And stack 'em all up in a row Let 'em drink out of half-gallon bottles To the memory of Rosin the Bow To the memory of Rosin the Bow To the memory of Rosin the Bow Let 'em drink out of half-gallon bottles To the memory of Rosin the Bow Then get this half dozen stout fellas And let them all stagger and go And dig a great hole in the meadow And in it put Rosin the Bow And in it put Rosin the Bow And in it put Rosin the Bow And dig a great hole in the meadow And in it put Rosin the Bow Then get ye a couple of bottles, Put one at me head and me toe With a diamond ring scratch upon 'em The name of old Rosin the Bow The name of old Rosin the Bow The name of old Rosin the Bow With a diamond ring scratch upon 'em The name of old Rosin the Bow I fear that old tyrant approaching, That cruel, remorseless old Foe And I lift up me glass in his honour: Take a drink with old Rosin the Bow! Take a drink with old Rosin the Bow Take a drink with old Rosin the Bow And I lift up me glass in his honour: Take a drink with old Rosin the Bow!
6.
Tim Finnegan lived in watling street A gentle Irishman, mighty odd He'd a beautiful brogue so rich and sweet To rise in the world, he carried a hod See, he'd sort of a tipplin' way With love for the liquor poor Tim was born To help him on with his work each day He'd a drop of the craythur every morn' Whack fol, de, dah Now, dance to your partner Welt the floor, your trotters shake Wasn't it the truth, they told ye lots of fun At Finnegan's wake One morning Tim got rather full His head felt heavy which made him shake Fell from a ladder and he broke his skull They carried him home, his corpse to wake Rolled him up in a nice clean sheet And laid him out upon the bed A gallon of whiskey at his feet And a bottle of porter at his head Whack fol, de, dah Now, dance to your partner Welt the floor, your trotters shake Wasn't it the truth, they told ye lots of fun At Finnegan's wake His friends assembled at the wake And misses Finnegan called for lunch First she brought in tea and cake Then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch Biddy O'Brien began to cry Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see? Tim mavourneen, why did you die? Arrah, hold your gob, said Patty Megee Whack fol, de, dah Now, dance to your partner Welt the floor, your trotters shake Wasn't it the truth, they told ye lots of fun At Finnegan's wake Then Maggie O'Connor took up the job "Arrah", biddy says, she ye're wrong, I'm sure Biddy then gave her a belt on the gob And left her sprawling on the floor There the war did soon engage Woman to woman and man to man Shillelah law was all the rage An a row and a ruction soon began Whack fol, de, dah Now, dance to your partner Welt the floor, your trotters shake Wasn't it the truth, they told ye lots of fun At Finnegan's wake Then Mickey Maloney raised his head When a bottle of whiskey flew at him It missed him falling on the bed The liquor scattered over Tim Tim revives, see how he rises Timothy rising from the bed Then Whirl your whiskey around Like blazes Thanum an Dhul Do ye think I'm dead?
7.
Beside a hill there is a still, Where the smoke runs up to the sky; You ean always tell by the whiff and the smell That the liquor boys are nigh. That the liquor boys are nigh, That the liquor boys are nigh, You ean always tell by the whiff and the smell, That the liquor boys are nigh. This mountain dew is made from grain, And mixed with water pure, And the alcohol that it eontains Will all your troubles cure. Will all your troubles cure, Will all your troubles cure, And the alcohol that it contains Will all your troubles sure. AII learned men who use the pen Have writ its praises high; It fills the air with perfume rare Distilled with wheat and rye. Distilled with wheat and rye, Distilled with wheat and rye, It fills the air with perfume rare Distilled with wheat and rye. Away with pills,'twill cure the ills Of Pagan, Christian and Jew, Off with your coat and wet your throat With the real old mountain dew. With the real old mountain dew, With the real old mountain dew, Off with your coat and wet your throat With the real old mountain dew. So before we roll won't you have another bowl Of the good old mountain dew? Of the good old mountain dew? Of the good old mountain dew? Of the good old mountain dew? Of the good old mountain dew? So before we roll won't you have another bowl Of the good old mountain dew?
8.
Come single belle and beau, unto me pay attention Don't ever fall in love, for it's the devil's own invention For once I fell in love with a maiden so bewitching Miss Henrietta Bell out in Captain Kelly's kitchen With me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie And me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie At the age of seventeen I was 'prenticed to a grocer Not far from Stephen's Green where Miss Henri' used to go sir Her manners were sublime and she set me heart a-twitchin' When she invited me to a hooley in the kitchen With me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie And me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie Oh, next Sunday bein' the day that we were to have the flare-up I dressed meself quite gay and I frizzed and oiled me hair up The Captain had no wife and he had gone a-fishin' And we kicked up high life down below stairs in the kitchen With me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie And me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie With her arm around me waist, she slyly hinted marriage To the door in dreadful haste came Captain Kelly's carriage Her eyes were full of hate and poison she was spittin' When the Captain at the door, walked right into the kitchen With me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie And me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie When the Captain came downstairs, though he saw me situation In despite of all me prayers I was marched off to the station For me they'd take no bail, but to get home I was itchin' And I had to tell the tale, how I came into the kitchen With me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie And me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie Now, I said she did invite me, but she gave a flat denial For assault she did indict me, and I was sent for trial She swore I robbed the house and in spite of all her schreechin' And I got six months hard for me courtin' in the kitchen With me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie And me toora loora la and me toora loora laddie
9.
Mick McGuire 02:32
Oh, me name is Mick McGuire and I'll quickly tell to you Of a young girl I admired called Katy Donahue She was fair and fat and forty and believe me when I say That whenever I came in at the door you could hear her mammy say: "Johnny, get up from the fire, get up and give the man a sate Can't you see it's Mr McGuire and he's courting your sister Kate Ah, you know very well he owns a farm a wee bit out of the town Arragh, get up out of that, you impudent brat, and let Mr McGuire sit down" Diddle e dowdle-owdle-owdle diddle e dowdle-owdle-ow Diddle e dowdle-owdle-owdle diddle e dowdle-owdle-ow "Ah, you know very well he owns that farm a wee bit out of the town Arragh, get up out of that, you impudent brat, and let Mr McGuire sit down" Now, the first time that I met her was at a dance at Tarmagee And I very kindly asked her if she'd dance a step with me Then I asked if I could see her home if I'd be going her way And whenever I come in at the door you could hear her mammy say: "Johnny, get up from the fire, get up and give the man a sate Can't you see it's Mr McGuire and he's courting your sister Kate Ah, you know very well he owns a farm a wee bit out of the town Arragh, get up out of that, you impudent brat, and let Mr McGuire sit down" Diddle e dowdle-owdle-owdle diddle e dowdle-owdle-ow Diddle e dowdle-owdle-owdle diddle e dowdle-owdle-ow "Ah, you know very well he owns that farm a wee bit out of the town Arragh, get up out of that, you impudent brat, and let Mr McGuire sit down" Ah, but now that we are married, sure her mother's changed her mind Just because I spent the legacy her father left behind She hasn't got the decency to bid me time of day Now whenever I come in at the door you'd hear the old one say: "Johnny, come up to the fire, come up, you're sitting in the draft Can't you see it's old McGuire and he nearly drives me daft Ah, I don't know what gets into him, for he's always on the tare Arragh, just sit where you are and never you dare to give old McGuire the chair" Diddle e dowdle-owdle-owdle diddle e dowdle-owdle-ow Diddle e dowdle-owdle-owdle diddle e dowdle-owdle-ow "Ah, I don't know what gets into him, for he's always on the tare Arragh, just sit where you are and never you dare to give old McGuire the chair"
10.
'Twas early, early, in the month of June I was sitting with my glass and spoon. A small bird sat on an ivy bunch And the song he sang was a jug of punch. Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie A small bird sat on an ivy bunch And the song he sang was a jug of punch. If I were sick, and very bad And were not able to go or stand, I would not think it at all amiss To pledge my shoes for a jug of punch. Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie I would not think it at all amiss To pledge my shoes for a jug of punch. What more diversion can a man desire Than to sit him down by a snug turf fire, Upon his knee a pretty wench And upon his table a jug of punch. Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie Upon his knee a pretty wench And upon his table a jug of punch. And when I'm dead and in my grave No costly tombstone will I have, I'll dig a grave both wide and deep With a jug of punch at my head and feet.
11.
There was Johnny McEldoo and McGee and me And a couple of two or three went on the spree one day We had a bob or two, which we knew how to blew And the beer and whiskey flew and we all felt gay We visited McCann's, Maclaman's, Humpty Dan's We then went into Swan's, our stomachs for to pack We ordered out a feed, which indeed, we did need And we finished it with speed, but we still felt slack Johnny McEldoo turned red white and blue As a plate of irish stew he soon put out of sight He shouted out "Encore!" with a roar for some more That he'd never felt before such a keen appetite We ordered eggs and ham, bread and jam, what a cram But him, we couldn't ram, though we tried our level best For everthing we brought, cold or hot, mattered not It went down him like a shot but he still stood the test He swallowed tripe and lard by the yard, we got scared We thought it would go hard when the waiter brought the bill Told him to give o'er, but he swore he could lower Twice as much again and more before he had his fill He nearly supped a trough full of broth. Says McGrath, "He'll devour the tablecloth if you don't hold him in" When the waiter brought the charge, McEldoo felt so large He began to scout and barge and his blood went on fire He began to curse and swear, tear his hair in despair And to finish the affair, called the shop man a liar The shop man, he threw out and no doubt, he did clout McEldoo he kicked about like an old football Tattered all his clothes, broke his nose, I suppose He would have killed him with a few blows in no time at all McEldoo began to howl and to growl, by my soul Threw an empty bowl at the shop keeper's head Struck poor Mickey Flynn, peeled the skin from his chin An a ruction did begin and we all fought and bled Peelers did arrive, man alive, four or five At us they made a drive for us all to march away We paid for all the meat that we ate, stood a trait And went home to ruminate on the spree that day.
12.
Let the farmer praise his grounds Let the huntsman praise his hounds Let the shepherd praise his dewyscented lawn Oh but I'm more wise than they Spend each happy night and day With my darlin' little cruiscín lán, lán, lán My darlin' little cruiscín lán Oh, gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín (Oh, graw moh kree moh krooshkeen) Slainte geal Mauverneen (Slawnta gal Mohvoorneen) Gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín lán, lán, lán (Graw moh kree moh krooshkeen lawn, lawn, lawn) Oh, gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín lán (Oh, graw moh kree moh krooshkeen lawn) Immortal and divine Great Bacchus, god of wine Create me by adoption your own son In hopes that you'll comply That my glass shall ne'er run dry Nor my darlin' little cruiscín lán, lán, lán My darlin' little cruiscín lán Oh, gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín Slainte geal Mauverneen Gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín lán, lán, lán Oh, gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín lán Oh, when cruel death appears In a few but happy years You'll say: "Oh, won't you come along with me?" I'll say: "Begone, you knave, For King Bacchus gave me lave To take another cruiscín lán, lán, lán To take another cruiscín lán" Oh, gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín Slainte geal Mauverneen Gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín lán, lán, lán Oh, gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín lán Then fill your glasses high Let's not part with lips so dry For the lark now proclaims it is the dawn And since we can't remain May we shortly meet again To fill another cruiscín lán, lán, lán To fill another cruiscín lán Oh, gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín Slainte geal Mauverneen Gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín lán, lán, lán Oh, gradh mo chroide mo cruiscín lán
13.
Portláirge 01:17
Ó do bhiossa lá i Portláirge Oh dhu vee-sah law Purth-law-rig-eh Fol dow fol dee fol the dad eye um Bhi fion is punch ar chlár ann Vee feen iss punch err klawr oun Fol dow fol dee fol the dad eye um Bhi lán á ti de mhnaibh ann Vee lawn ah tee dhe vnaw-iv oun Fol dow fol dee fol the dad eye um Agus mise ag ól a sláinte Og-gus mish egg ohl ah slawnteh Fol dow fol dee fol the dad eye um Agus d'éaluigh bean ó Rath liom Og-gus thale-ig ban oh Raw lum Fol dow fol dee fol the dad eye um Agus triúr ó Thiobraid Árann Og-gus throor oh Hibb-ar-idh Aw-ron Fol dow fol dee fol the dad eye um Ni raibh a muintir sásta Nee rev ah mween-thar saws-tha Fol dow fol dee fol the dad eye um Ni rabhadar ach leath-shásta Nee row-dhar ock lah-haws-tha Fol dow fol dee fol the dad eye um Ó raghadsa ón Charraig amárach Oh ride-sah oan Korr-igg am-awr-ock Fol dow fol dee fol the dad eye um Agus tabharfad cailin bréa liom Og-gus thaur-hadh koll-een brah lum Fol dow fol dee fol the dad eye um Gabhfaimid trid an Bhearnan Go-meedh treedh on Vaar-nan Fol dow fol dee fol the dad eye um Ó thuaidh go Thiobraid Árann Oh how-ig guh Hibb-ar-idh Awr-on Fol dow fol dee fol the dad eye um
14.
Of all the money that e'er I spent I've spent it in good company And all the harm that ever I did Alas, it was to none but me And all I've done for want of wit To memory now I can't recall So fill to me the parting glass Good night and joy be with you all If I had money enough to spend And leisure to sit awhile There is a fair maid in the town That sorely has my heart beguiled Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips I own she has my heart enthralled So fill to me the parting glass Good night and joy be with you all Oh, all the comrades that e'er I had They're sorry for my going away And all the sweethearts that e'er I had They'd wish me one more day to stay But since it falls unto my lot That I should rise and you should not I'll gently rise and softly call Good night and joy be with you all

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Justice for Brendan McConville and John Paul Wootton, who were unjustly convicted of the murder of PSNI constable Stephen Carroll and sentenced to life imprisonment.
We believe the case was corrupt and the 'evidence' inconclusive, contradictory and discredited. Both men find themselves victims of a system that sought to find suitable scapegoats in the wake of the political and media backlash following the killing.
www.facebook.com/mrsmcconville

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released January 1, 1959

Irish Songs Of Drinking And Blackguarding Sung by Patrick Clancy, Tom Clancy, Liam Clancy, Tommy Makem and Jack Keenan

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The London Celtic Punks London, UK

For drunx, celtic-punx and vagabonds!
"There's always been a strong argument that folk music is the original rebel music. The music of the people and historically through that music the people challenged the land owners, challenged the state and wrote the stories that recounted these acts; Therefore it could be argued that folk was in fact the first real punk rock" ... more

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