Category: Lyrics

How do you do, young Willie McBride,
Do you mind if I sit here, by your grave side
And rest for a while in the warm summer sun,
I’ve been walking all day and I’m nearly done
I see by your grave stone your were only nineteen,
When joined the great fallen in 1915
I hope you died well and I hope you died clean,
Or Willie McBride was it slow and obscene

Chorus:
Did they beat the drum slowly, did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the dead march as they lowered you down
Did the band play the last post and Chorus
Did the pipes play “The Flowers of the Forest”

Did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind,
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined
Although you died back in 1915,
In some faithful heart are you forever nineteen
Or are you stranger without even a name,
Enclosed there forever behind a glass pane
In an old photograph torn, battered and stained,
Fading to yellow in a brown leather frame

Willie McBride I can’t help wonder why,
Did all those that died there, know why they died
Did they believe when they answered the call,
Did they really believe that the war would end war
For the sorrow, the suffering, the glory the pain,
The killing and dying were all done in vain
For Willie McBride, it all happened again,
And again and again, and again and again

The sun now it shines on the green fields of France,
There’s warm summer’s breeze makes the red poppies dance
The trenches are vanished, long under the plow,
There’s no gas, there’s no barbed wire, no guns firing now
But here in this graveyard, it’s still no man’s land,
A thousand white crosses, in mute witness stand
To man’s blind indifference to his fellow man,
And a whole generation butchered and damned

Will ye go tae Sheriffmuir, 
Bauld John o’Innisture, 
There tae see the noble Mar 
And his Hieland laddies. 
A’ the true men o’ the north, 
Angus, Huntly, and Seaforth 
Scourin’ on tae cross the Forth 
Wi’ their white cockadies.

There ye’ll see the banners flare; 
There ye’ll hear the bagpipes rare, 
And the trumpets’ deadly blare 
Wi’ the cannons’ rattle. 
There ye’ll see the bauld McCraws, 
Camerons and Clanranald’s raws 
And a’ the clans, wi’ loud huzzas, 
Rushin’ tae the battle.

There ye’ll see the noble Whigs, 
A’ the heroes o’ the brigs, 
Raw hides and withered wigs, 
Ridin’ in array, man. 
Ri’en hose and raggit hools, 
Sour milk and girnin’ gools, 
Psalm-beuks and cutty-stools, 
We’ll see ne’er mair, man.

Will ye go tae Sheriffmuir, 
Bauld John o’ Innisture, 
Sic a day and sic an hour 
Ne’er was in the North, man. 
Sic can sights will there be seen, 
And gin some be nae mista’en, 
Fragrant gales will come bedeen, 
Frae the waters o’ Forth, man.

Methinks I see a host of craft
Spreading their sails alee
Down the Humber they do glide
All bound for the Northern Sea
Me thinks I see on each small craft
A crew with hearts so brave
Going out to earn their daily bread
Upon the restless wave

Chorus

And it’s Three Score And Ten
Boys and men were lost from Grimsby town
From Yarmouth down to Scarborough
Many hundreds more were drowned
Our herring craft, our trawlers
Our fishing smacks, as well
They long to fight that bitter night
The battle with the swell

Methinks I see them yet again
As they leave this land behind
Casting their nets into the sea
The herring shoals to find
Me thinks I see them yet again
They’re all on board all right
With their nets rolled up and their decks cleaned off
And the side lights burning bright

October’s night brought such a sight
‘Twas never seen before
There were mast and yards and broken spars
Come a washed up on the shore
There were many a heart in sorrow
Many a heart so brave
There were many a fine and hearty lad
That met a watery grave

He was standing in some tiny town
On fair Prince Edward Island
Waiting for a ship to come and find him
A one horse place, a friendly face,
Some coffee and a tiny trace
Of fiddling in the distance far behind them

A dime across the counter then
A shy hello, a brand new friend
A walk along the street in the wint’ry weather
A yellow light, an open door,
A welcome friend, there’s room for more
Soon they’re standing there inside together

He said I heard that tune before somewhere
But I can’t remember when
Was it on some other friendly shore
Did I hear it on the wind
Was it written on the sky above
I think I heard it from someone I love
But I never heard it sound so sweet since then

Now his feet begin to tap
A little boy says I’ll take your hat
He’s caught up in the magic of his smile
Then leaps the heart inside him
When on and off across the floor
He sends his clumsy body graceful as a child

He says there’s magic in the fiddler’s arms
There’s magic in this town
There’s magic in the dancers’ feet
And the way they put them down
Smiling people everywhere
Boots and ribbons and locks of hair
Laughter and old blue suits and Easter gowns

Now the sailor’s gone, the room is bare
The old piano’s sitting there
Someone’s hat’s left hanging on the rack
Some empty chairs, a wooden floor
That feels the touch of shoes no more
Waiting for the dancers to come back

And the fiddle’s in the closet
Of some daughter of the town
The strings are broke and the bow is gone
And the case is buttoned down
But often on December nights
When the air is cold and the wind is right
For the melody comes passing through this town

Chorus

I’ll tell me ma, when I get home
The boys won’t leave the girls alone they
Pulled me hair, they stolen me comb
But that’s alright, till I go home
She is handsome, she is pretty
She is the belle of Belfast city
She is a-courting one, two, three
Pray, can you tell me who is she?

Albert Mooney says he loves her
All the boys are fightin’ for her
Knock at the door, they’re ringin’ the bell
“Hello, my true love are you well
Out she comes white as snow
Rings on her fingers, bells on her toes
Ol’ Jenny Murray says she’ll die
If she doesn’t get the fellow with the roving eye

Let the wind and the rain and the hail blow high
And the snow come travelin’ through the sky
She’s as sweet as apple pie
She’ll get her own right by and by
When she gets a lad of her own
She won’t tell her ma when she gets home
Let them all come as they will
It’s Albert Mooney she loves still

Chorus

I wish I was hunting where the wild ducks run
And the rabbits and the pheasants and the hares
Or searching for a fox in the ferns and the rocks
And I wouldn’t give you tuppence for my cares

On a fine, sunny morning, with the dew upon the grass
And the mist lying soft upon the hill
I would ramble through the bog, just myself and the dog
And go fishing in the river by the mill

There are trout in the river, there are salmon there as well
And sometimes the long and slippy eels
And the meadows would be ringing with the sweet larks singing
And the people out working in the fields

In the merry month of June, when the whins are in bloom
And the dusk begins to fall at half past ten
If you walked a mile or so and you knew just where to go
You could find them making poteen in the glen

In the month of October, when the weather’s turning cold
And the yellow autumn stubbles on the ground
There are bright window lights burning holes in the night
And the fiddle music ringing all around

Chorus

Will ye gang tae the highlands, Leezie Lindsay,
Will ye gang tae the highlands wi’ me
Will ye gang tae the highlands, Leezie Lindsay
My bride and my darling tae be.

Tae gang tae the heilands wi’ you sir,
Would bring the saut tear tae my e’e
For to leave the green fields and woodlands
And streams o’ my ain country

I’ll show you the red deer a-roamin’,
On mountains where waves the tall pine
and as far as the bound of those the red deer,
These moorlands and mountains are mine

A thousand claymores I can muster,
Ilk blade and its bearer the same
And when round their cheiftain they rally,
The gallant Argyll is my name.

There’s dancing and joy in the heilands,
There’s piping and gladness and glee.
For Argyll has brought hame Leezie Lindsay,
His bride and his darlin’ to be.

Chorus:
Heel y’ho boys let her go boys
Bring her head round now all to together
Heel y’ho boys and we’ll anchor
As the sunsets on Mingulay

Wives are waiting by the harbour
They’ve been waiting since break of day boys
they’ve been waiting for their loved one’s
sailing homeward to Mingulay

What care we for white the Minch is
What care we for the windy or the weather
Turn her head round every inch is
Sailing homeward to Mingulay

Chorus
When I die, bury me low
Where I can hear the bonny Tweed flow,
A sweeter place I never will know,
Than the rolling hills o the Borders.

I’ve travelled far and wandered wide,
I’ve seen the Hudson and the Clyde,
I’ve wondered by Loch Lomond side,
But I dearly love the Borders.

Well that I remember the day
When wi my love I strolled by the Tay,
But all this beauty fades away,
Among the hills o the Borders.

There’s a certain peace of mind
Bonnie lassies there you will find
Men so strong and men so kind,
Among the hills o the Borders.

Oh rattlin, roarin Willie
Oh he held to the fair
An’ for to sell his fiddle
And buy some other ware
But parting wi’ his fiddle
The saut tear blin’t his e’e
And rattlin, roarin Willie
Ye’re welcome hame to me

Oh Willie come sell your fiddle
Oh sell your fiddle sae fine
Oh Willie come sell your fiddle
And buy a pint o’ wine
If I should sell my fiddle
The warl’ would think I was mad
For monie a rantin day
My fiddle and I hae had

As I cam by Crochallan
I cannily keekit ben
Rattlin, roarin Willie
Was sitting at yon boord-en’
Sitting at yon boord-en’
And amang guid companie
Rattlin, roarin Willie
Ye’re welcome hame to me