Author: David Gilfillan

Chorus

In a neat little town they called Belfast 
Apprentice to trade I was bound
And many an hour’s sweet happiness
Have I spent in that neat little town

As sad misfortune came over me
Which caused me to stray from the land
Far away from me friends and relations
Betrayed by the black velvet band

Chorus.

Her eyes they shown like diamonds
I thought her the queen of the land
And her hair, it hung over her shoulder
Tied up with a black velvet band

I took a stroll down broadway
Meaning not long for to stay
When who should I meet but this pretty fair maid
Come a-traipsing along the highway

She was both fair and handsome
Her neck, it was just like a swan
And her hair, it hung over her shoulder
Tied up with a black velvet band

I took a stroll with this pretty fair maid
And a gentleman passing us by
Well, I knew she meant the doing of him
By the look in her roguish black eye

A gold watch she took from his pocket
And placed it right into my hand
And the very first thing that I said, was
Bad ‘cess to the black velvet band

Before the judge and the jury
Next morning, I had to appear
The judge, he says to me
“Young man, you’re case it is proven clear

We’ll give you seven years penal servitude
To be spent far away from the land
Far away from your friends and relations
Betrayed by the black velvet band

So come all you jolly young fellows
A warning take by me
When you are out on the town, me lads
Beware of the pretty Colleens

They’ll feed you with strong drink, me lads
‘Til you are unable to stand
And the very first thing that you’ll know is
You’ve landed in Van Diemens Land

Come, bonnie lass, lie near me, an’ let the brandy cheer ye
For the road frae Fife tae Falkirk’s lang an’ cauld an’ wet an’ weary
My trade, it is the weavin’ in the bonnie toun o’ Leven
An’ we’ll drink a health tae the farmers’ dames wha’ll buy our cloth the morn

Chorus

You can see them a’, the lads o’ the fair
Lads frae the Forth an’ the Carron water
Workin’ lads an’ lads wi’ gear
Lads wha’d sell ye the provost’s dochter
Sodjers back frae the German wars
Peddlers up frae the border
An’ lassies wi’ an eye for mair than the kye
At the trysting fair at Falkirk

Come, Georgie, haud the pony, for the path is steep and stony
An’ it’s three lang weeks frae the Isle o’ Skye and the beasts are thin an’ bony
We’ll tak the last o’ the siller an’ buy oursels a gill or two
An’ drink to the lads wha’ll buy our kye in Falkirk toun the morn

Staun hear an’ I’ll show ye, there’s the toun below ye
But we’d best bide here in the barn the nicht, for the nightwatch dinna know ye
My brother, he’s a plowman, an’ I’m for the feeing now, man
An’ we’ll drink tae the price o’ the hairvest corn in Falkirk toun the morn

The wark o’ the weaver’s over, likewise the days o’ the drover
An’ the plowboy sits on a tractor noo, too high to see the clover
The warkin’s no sae steady, but the lads are aye still ready
Tae drink a health tae the working man in Falkirk toun the morn

Chorus

Steal away, let’s steal away
No reason left to stay
For me and you, let’s start anew
And darlin’ steal away

Let’s steal away and chase our dreams
And hope they’ll never find us
The weary days, the empty nights
We’ll leave them all behind usSteal away,

We’ll leave behind the empty streets
The gloom and desolation
The rain, the cold, just growing old
God knows it’s a hard out station

We’ll leave with just our memories
And we’ll make a new beginning
For we have to choose, to win or loose
And it’s time we started winning

In the year of our lord eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from the coal quay of Cork
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the grand city hall in New York
‘She was a elegant craft, she was rigged fore-and-aft
And oh, how the wild winds drove her
She’d stood several blasts, she had twenty-seven masts
And we called her the Irish Rover

Chorus

So fare thee well my pretty little girl I must sail away

So fare thee well my pretty little girl I must sail away

There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Jimmy McGurk who was scarred stiff of work
And a man from Westmeath called Malone
There was Slugger O’Toole who was drunk as a rule
And fighting Bill Tracey from Dover
And your man Mick McCann from the banks of the Bann
Was the skipper of the Irish Rover

We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags
We had two million barrels of stones
We had three million sides of old blind horses’ hides
We had four million barrels of bones
We had five million hogs, had six million dogs
Seven million barrels of porter
We had eight million bales of old nanny goats’ tails
In the hold of the Irish Rover

We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out
And the ship lost its way in a fog
And that whale of the crew was reduced down to two
Just meself and the captain’s old dog
Then the ship struck a rock, oh Lord what a shock
The bulkhead was turned right over
Turned nine times around, and the poor old dog was drowned
I’m the last of the Irish Rover

And a hundred and eighty were challenged by Travis to die
By the line that he drew with his sword as the battle was nigh
Heed not who crossed over the line was for glory
He that would live, better fly
And over the line crossed a hundred and seventy nine

Chorus.

Hey Santa Anna, we’re killing your soldiers below!
That men, wherever they go will remember the Alamo

Jim Bowie lay dying, but his blood and his powder were dry
His knife at the ready to kill a few in reply
Young David Crockett was laughing and dying
With blood sweat tears in his eyes
For Texas and for freedom, a man more than willing to die

A courier came to the battle once bloody and loud
And found only skin and bones where he once left a crowd
“Fear not little darling, of dying, if the world is sovereign and free
For we’ll fight to last for as long as liberty be.

In Dublin town, there live’s a girl
Fairer than the flower I’m wearing
Rose Donohue, all fresh and new
And I love her past all caring

CHORUS
And there she goes, my Ringsend Rose
In God’s garden there’s none rarer
And there she goes, my Ringsend Rose
Dublin Town has seen none Fairer

Sweet seventeen, my seamstrees queen
She’s no bigger than a thimble
Soft satin skin, street arab grin
Sure she makes the world look simple

Three yards of lace to walk with grace
And a golden ring she’s asking
They say man’s slow, but still I know
That our love is everlasting

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

Chorus.
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

By a lonely harbour wall
She watched the last star falling
As the prison ship sailed out against the sky
For she lived in hope and pray
For her love in Botany Bay
It’s so lonely round the Fields Of Athenry

Will ye come awa lad in the mornin early

Will ye come awa wi me and fight for the bonnie Charlie

Chorus

Hie awa tae the hills lad leave yer bonnie lady

Fight for Scotlands rightful king . for the kilt and the tartan Pladie.

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Will ye wear a white cockade in your bonnet proudly

Will ye fight like a Heiland lad when the cannon thunder loudly

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Will ye weep or will ye moan if yer wounded sairly

Or will ye stand and fight alone and bravely die for Charlie

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Will ye cow-tow tae Sassenach rule and sodjers clad in scarlet

Will ye cow-tow tae a German fool and his ill-begotten harlot.

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though centuries may come and go the cause is not forsaken

His ghost will rouse the hill and glen and Scotland reawaken.

Of all the trades that I do ken the beggin’ is the best

for when a beggar’s weary he can aye sit doon and rest

Chorus

Tae the beggin I will go will go tae the beggin I will go.

Tae the beggin I will go will go tae the beggin I will go.

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I got a pocket for me oatmeal and another for me rye

I got a bottle by me side to drink when I am dry

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I got patches on me pockets and a black patch on me knee

When you come to take me hame I’ll drink as weel as thee

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I got a pocket for me bried me boys and another for me malt

I got a pair o’ crutches . you should see how I can halt

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I sleep beneath an open tree and there I pay no rent

Providence provides for me and I am well content

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Of all the trades that I do ken the beggin is the best

for when a beggars weary he can aye sit doon and rest.