
Paddy, The Cockney And The Ass - Clare
Witty Comic
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Another song I learned from the repertoire of Tom Lenihan, from a collection called “The Mount Callen Garland” collected and edited by another great songster, Tom Munnelly. This comic song tells of an Irish country man who outwits a city slicker in London. It is thought that the song originated in America and traveled back as opposed to the other way around.
Recorded during covid in Sligo, Manchester and North Carolina
Mastered by Richie Ford
Cathy Jordan - Vocals, uke guitar, bones
John Doyle - Guitar, bouzouki
Mike McGoldrick - Low whistle, snare drum, jaw harp
Peter Crann - Original crankie illustrations
Pat Molloy was an Irish boy, he left sweet County Clare
Says he, ‘I’ll go to London to see the wonders there
Sure I’ve often heard that London was a very pretty place
So bedad says he, I’ll go and see it that’s the blooming case
When Pat arrived in London, he was taken by surprise
For the sights of that great city fairly dazzled Paddy’s eyes
One day while going down the street meditating to himself
He met a ragged Cockney with a donkey, selling delph
This damed old ragged cockney wouldn’t let poor Paddy pass
Saying ‘Come and speak to your brother’ while he pointed to the ass
‘Well bedad’ says Pat ‘I never knew that I had a brother here’
And turned round he whispered something into the ass’s ear
When Pat was speaking to ass, now boys what did he do?
He dropped a pebble in his ear, he did bedad ’tis true
The ass went mad, upset the cart, smashed all the earthenware
And the damned old ragged Cockney, he went crazy clear and clane
Now he called upon the peeler for to take poor Pat in charge
Saying ‘Seize this Irish vagabond, for he shouldn’t be at large’
‘Begone you English spailpín’ cries Paddy with a smile
‘For you took me to be an ass because I come from Erin’s Isle’
Thats nonsense cried the magistrate, you know the ass went mad
I do indeed said paddy and I’m sorry to bedad
Be careful cried the Magistrate I’ll have no nonsense here
But come and tell me every word you whispered in his ear
‘Well indeed I will’ says Paddy, ‘that request I can’t refuse
For I’d often heard that donkeys, they were very fond of news
I thought I might say something this ‘oul donkey’s heart to cheer
And now I’ll tell you every word that I whispered in his ear’
‘Well, I told the ass’ says Paddy, ‘that we had our wrongs redressed
That noble wealthy Irishmen were no longer oppressed
We got rid of all the landlords, Ireland to ourselves we had
And when the donkey heard the news, be Jesus he went mad’
The magistrate, from laughing well he had to creep his head
When he looked at poor Ould Paddy and he thought of what he said
And turning round to Paddy ‘what a clever rogue you are
And for your clever answer, I’ll dismiss you from the bar’
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Deartháirín ó mo Chroí - Limerick
(Brother of my heart)
Author - Michael Hogan - “The Bard Of Thomond”
Co Limerick 1828 - 1899 - Battle and recruitment and the pain of separation due to war.
Recorded during covid in Sligo, Manchester and North Carolina
Mastered by Richard Ford
Cathy Jordan - Vocals, uke
John Doyle - Bouzouki, Guitar, Bass
Mike McGoldrick - Flute, Clarinet
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Peter Crann - Original crankie Illustrations
I am a young fellow who has always loved rural sport-
The fairs and the patterns of Erin I used to resort,-
The true sons of Bacchus were always in my company,-
Till I was deprived of my deartháirín ó mo chroí.-
The womb's turned to earth that gave birth to my brother and me,-
My father and mother have gone to eternity,-
We worked at our trade and our money we spent it quite free,-
Which makes me lament for my deartháirín ó mo chroí.
When we were children we did each other adore,-
This lovely green island we wandered it o'er and o'er,-
My brother was taken and sent o'er the dark rolling sea,-
And I am left lonely for deartháirín ó mo chroí.
In Dublin's fair city my brother he was pressed away-
On board of a warship to Spain o'er the wild rolling sea.-
Where cannons roar loudly and bullets like lightning do fly,-
Perhaps in some battle my deartháirín ó might die.
He was sent to the wars for to fight against Boney and France,-
His regiment was first in the red battle ranks to advance,-
But when night cast it's gloom on that gory and life wasting lea,-
Pale, bleeding and cold lay my deartháirín ó mo chroí.
If heaven would aid me and send me to Spain where he be,-
My life I would venture to set him at liberty,-
Like a true loyal brother I would fight for him manfully,-
Or I'd die in the arms of my deartháirín ó mo chroí.-
But now I'm alone like the desolate bird of the night,-
The world and it's beauties no longer afford me delight,
The dark narrow grave is the only sad refuge for me,-
Since I lost my heart's treasure my deartháirín ó mo chroí
Johnny Carey - Tipperary
A comic song from the repertoire of Thomas McCarthy
Trickster Johnny follows Molly for her money but when asked to follow her to the next world, he declines her offer
Recorded at Studio Mhic An Daill, Dingle Co Kerry
Engineered by Donogh Hennessy
Mastering - Richard Ford
Donogh Hennessy - Guitar
Cathy Jordan - Vocals bodhran, bones
Johnny Carey loved a beauty a lively cutie Molly O’Leary
But her father won’t agree his daughter to give to Johnny Ceary
Away we’ll run away for the fun for my father is too contraire
Won’t you follow me, won’t you follow me,
Faith I will said Johnny Carey
Ry di diddle doh, di outtle doddle doh
diddrey outtle di dittle die do diddle do
Ry di diddle doh, di outtle doddle doh
diddrey outtle di dittle die do diddle do
Molly’s father died one day they say twas not from drinking water
The house the cash the land they say, was left by will to Molly’s daughter
The house the cash the land also, away we’ll run so meet and cheers
Won’t you follow me won’t you follow me
Faith I will said Johnny Carey
Ry di diddle doh, di outtle doddle doh
diddrey outtle di dittle die do diddle do
Ry di diddle doh, di outtle doddle doh
diddrey outtle di dittle die do diddle do
Molly herself was taken bad the fever worse each day was growing
Johnny dear tis awful sad to the other world I think I’m going
You won’t survive my loss you know, no longer remain in Tipperary
Won’t you follow me won’t you follow me
Faith I WILL NOT said Johnny Carey
Ry di diddle doh, di outtle doddle doh
diddrey outtle di dittle die do diddle do
Ry di diddle doh, di outtle doddle doh
diddrey outtle di dittle die do diddle do
The Boys of Fairhill - Cork
A lofty view of Fairhill in Cork city. Many verses have been added over the years but this version I learned from the great Cork musical troubadour Jimmy Crowley who learned it from Paul Frost and is thought to be close to the original.
Recorded in Studio Mhic An Daill, Dingle Co Kerry
Engineered by Donogh Hennessy
Mastering - Richie Ford
Cathy Jordan - Vocals
Donogh Hennesy - Guitars
Alan Kelly - Accordion
Dave Gascoigne - Original crankie illustrations
Come on boys and you'll see
Lads and lassies full of glee
Famous for all they will make your heart thrill
The boys they will not harm you
The girls they will all charm you
'Here's up 'em all!' says the boys of Fair Hill
Come on boys and spend a day
With our harrier club so gay
The cry of the hounds it will make your heart thrill
When you hear Quinton say
'Challenger has won the day'
'Here's up 'em all!' says the boys of Fair Hill
Come on boys and spend the day
With our bowling club so gay
The loft of the ball it will make your heart thrill
When you hear the Shea boy say
'Jimmy Delaney's won thе day'
'Here's up 'em all!' says thе boys of Fair Hill
Come on up to Fahy's well
For a pint of pure spring water
The grandest place of all, sure the angels do sing
Thousands come from o'er the foam
Just to kiss that blarney stone
That can be viewed from the groves of Fair Hill
Come on down to Quinlan's pub
That is where you join our club
Round us in gallons the porter does flow
First we tap to half a terse
Drink a health to Dashwodd's race
'That's the stuff to give them!' says the boys of Fair Hill
Lakes of Coolfinn - Waterford
Story of a tragic drowning in Coolfinn lake
Recorded in Benny McCarthy’s studio Doon
Mixed by Billy Sutton
Mastering - Richie Ford
Adapted and arranged by Cathy Jordan
Cathy Jordan - Vocals
Benny McCarthy - Accordion
Caoimhín Ó Fearghaíl - Bouzouki, whistle,
Donal Clancy - Guitar vox
Janie Cavanagh - Original crankie illustrations
It was early one morning' young Willie rose
And off to his comrade's bedchamber did go
Sayin', "Arise dearest comrades! Let nobody know"
"It's a fine summer's morning' to the lakes let us go”
Well, Willie plunged in and he swam to lay ground
'Till he came to an island of soft marshy ground
Crying, "Comrades dearest comrades, do not venture in
For there's false and deep waters in the Lakes of Coolfin
Well, early next morning Willie's sister arose
And onto her mother's bedchamber did go
Sayin', "I had a sad dream 'bout Willie last night
He was clad in a shroud, In a shroud of snow white”
Well, later that evening Willie's mother stood there
She was ringing her fingers and tearing her hair
Saying woe to the hour young Willie plunged in
For there's false and deep waters in the Lakes of Coolfin
Well, I saw a fair maid standing fast by the shore
Her face it was sad she was crying for sure
Singing woe to the hour young Willie plunged in
For there's false and deep waters in the Lakes of Coolfin
​
Bog Braon don tSeanduine - Kerry
The old man bears some resemblance to a baby and each craves the “bog braon” , the warm/soft drop, milk for the baby, whiskey for the old man. This is still a popular lullaby all over Ireland.
Recorded in Creg Na Vagabone
The Burren Co Clare
Engineered by Garry O’Briain
Cathy Jordan - Vocals
Nuala Kennedy - Vocals
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Charlotte Smith - Original crankie illustrations
Bog braon, bog braon, bog braon don seanduine,
Bog braon, is blais féin, is é a thabhairt don seanduine.
Cuir a chodhladh, cuir a chodhladh, cuir a chodhladh an seanduine,
Cuir a chodhladh, is nigh a chosa , bog braon don seanduine.
Ubh circe, ubh circe, ubh circe don seanduine,
Ubh circe, is blúirín ime, is é a thabhairt don seanduine.
Cuir a chodhladh, cuir a chodhladh, cuir a chodhladh an seanduine,
Cuir a chodhladh, is nigh a chosa , bog braon don seanduine.
Feoil úr, feol úr, feol úr don seanduine,
Feoil úr, is braon súip, is é a thabhairt don seanduine.
Cuir a chodhladh, cuir a chodhladh, cuir a chodhladh an seanduine,
Cuir a chodhladh, is nigh a chosa , bog braon don seanduine.
Bog braon, bog braon, bog braon don seanduine,
Bog braon, is blais féin, is é a thabhairt don seanduine.
Translation
Move a drop, move a drop, move a drop for the old one
Move a drop, taste it yourself and give it to the old one
Chorus
Put to sleep put to sleep put to sleep the old one
Put to sleep and wash his feet and move a drop for the old one
A hen’s egg a hen’s egg hen’s egg for the old one
A hen’s egg and a little dab of butter and give it to the old one
Chorus
Fresh meat fresh meat fresh meat for the old one
Fresh meat and a drop of soup and give it to the old one
Chorus
Move a drop move a drop move a drop for the old one
Move a drop taste it yourself and give it to the old one