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The Fields of Athenry
By a lonely prison wall,
I heard a young girl calling
Michael, they have taken you away,
For you stole Trevelyan's corn,
So the young might see the morn.
Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay.
Low lie the fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly
Our love was on the wing, we had dreams and songs to sing
It's so lonely 'round the fields of Athenry.
By a lonely prison wall,
I heard a young man calling
Nothing matters, Mary, when you're free
Against the famine and the Crown,
I rebelled, they cut me down.
Now you must raise our child with dignity.
Low lie the fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly
Our love was on the wing, we had dreams and songs to sing
It's so lonely 'round the fields of Athenry.
By a lonely harbor wall,
she watched the last star falling
As that prison ship sailed out against the sky
Sure she'll wait and hope and pray,
for her love in Botany Bay
It's so lonely 'round the fields of Athenry.
It's so lonely 'round the fields of Athenry.
Low lie the fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly
Our love was on the wing, we had dreams and songs to sing
It's so lonely 'round the fields of Athenry
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THOUSANDS ARE SAILING
The island it is silent now
But the ghosts still haunt the waves
And the torch lights up a famished man
Who fortune could not save
Did you work upon the railroad
Did you rid the streets of crime
Were your dollars from the white house
Were they from the five and dime
Did the old songs taunt or cheer you
And did they still make you cry
Did you count the months and years
Or did your teardrops quickly dry
Ah, no, says he, 'twas not to be
On a coffin ship I came here
And I never even got so far
That they could change my name
Thousands are sailing
Across the western ocean
To a land of opportunity
That some of them will never see
Fortune prevailing
Across the western ocean
Their bellies full
Their spirits free
They'll break the chains of poverty
And they'll dance
In Manhattan's desert twilight
In the death of afternoon
We stepped hand in hand on Broadway
Like the first man on the moon
And "The Blackbird" broke the silence
As you whistled it so sweet
And in Brendan Behan's footsteps
I danced up and down the street
Then we said goodnight to Broadway
Giving it our best regards
Tipped our hats to Mister Cohan
Dear old Times Square's favorite bard
Then we raised a glass to JFK
And a dozen more besides
When I got back to my empty room
I suppose I must have cried
Thousands are sailing
Again across the ocean
Where the hand of opportunity
Draws tickets in a lottery
Postcards we're mailing
Of sky-blue skies and oceans
From rooms the daylight never sees
Where lights don't glow on Christmas trees
But we dance to the music
And we dance
Thousands are sailing
Across the western ocean
Where the hand of opportunity
Draws tickets in a lottery
Where e'er we go, we celebrate
The land that makes us refugees
From fear of Priests with empty plates
From guilt and weeping effigies
And we dance
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No lyrics needed.
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Actually it's Saint Paddy's day.
And a happy one to you as well. :beer:
Got to love the Muppets:
:good: :beer: :good:
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I'll wait for you till I turn blue
There's nothin' more a man can do
Don't get your bollocks in a twist
Settle down, don't take a fit
Ya drank with demons straight form Hell
They almost nearly won as well
Ya wiped the floor with victory
Then puked until you fell asleep
Blackened was the banshee's wail
These boot will never fill her jail
So you crawled into an empty boat
For the Gulf of Mexico
Till Cortez came an' when so did you
From the ashes charred and blue
Smellin' like a Salty Dog
Back from Hell where you belong
Anarchy, the scourge of every sea
The Antichrist aboard a rig
With us your cutthroat thieves
The ship went down we all near drowned
Ya stood there on the deck
Till the Spanish came and flogged yer arse
And dragged you from the wreck
They threw a rope around yer neck
To watch you dance the jig of death
Then left ya for the starvin' crows
Hoverin' like hungry whores
One flew down plucked out yer eye
The other he had in his sights
Ya snarled at him, said leave me be
I need the bugger so I can see
Happy St PADDY's Day
The Irish nickname for Patrick is Paddy. Some clueless 'mercan has started a trend in recent years to use the wrong nickname and it's one of may (many) peeves that it seems to be catching on.
An Official Knight of St. Patrick here
Even have the document proving such hanging on my office wall. So designated by the College of Engineering at Kansas State University, 1975.
Apparently, my aversion to snakes is an instinctive thing.
