Andy M. Stewart

I was forced to wander because that I was poor And to leave the hills of Caledonia seemed more than I could endure And when that I was travellin oh what thought came to my mind That I had never seen her beauty til she was far behind Ferry me over, fe

Will ye go tae Flanders, Young Jimmy-o? Oh will ye go tae Flanders, Young Jimmy-o? There you'll get wine and brandy And medals find and dandy, O will ye go to Flanders, Young Jimmy-o? Oh dinnae go tae Flanders, Young Jimmy-o! Dinnae go tae Flanders,

I am a ramblin' Irishman It's Ulster I was born in And manys the happy hour I spent On the banks of sweet Loch Erin Ah but to live poor I could not endure Like others of my station To America I sailed away And left this Irish nation Rie tan tah na na

It was a' for our rightfu' King We left fair Scotland's strand, It was a' for our rightfu' King We e'er saw Irish land, my dear, We e'er saw Irish land. Now a' is done that men can do, And a' is done in vain, My Love and Native Land fareweel, For I m

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Ae fareweel, alas, for ever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. Who shall say that Fortune grieves him, While the star of hope she leaves him? Me, nae cheerful twinkle

THE GABERLUNZIEMAN Oh the pawky auld carle cam o'er the lea Wi' mony guild-e'ens and guid-days tae me Sayin', "Guid wife for your charity Would you lodge a leal poor man?" Laddie wi my tow-ro-ae Well the nicht being cauld, the carle being wat It

I am a wand'ring minstrel man, And Love my only theme, I've stray'd beside the pleasant Bann, And eke the Shannon's stream; I've pip'd and play'd to wife and maid By Barrow, Suir, and Nore, But never met a maiden yet Like Brighidin Ban Mo Store. My g

The old days have gone that had use for a man Who supported his lairdship, protecting his land Who in times of unrest, he would have dies for his lord Now the soldiers of England have taken his broad sword And there's fire in the glen, fire in the gl

Have you seen him on the corner And his lip would reach the pavement. He's been hiding from his razor, Is he not an awful sight? In love he was the purist, How he's frightening our tourists. If he'd gone and asked his father Oh, I'm sure he'd set him

O my Luve's like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June: O my Luve's like the melodie, That's sweetly play'd in tune. As fair art thou, my bonie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a'

It being a fine morning, this young man he chose That he'd make occasion to wear his fine clothes And it's down to the glen where the bonnie lassie goes To give her a token of his love, we suppose "Mary, oh Mary, if I could be your man Between you an

I mourn for the Highlands, now drear and forsaken The lands of my fathers the gallant and brave To make room for the sportsmen, their lands were all taken And they had to seek out new homes far away Oh shame on the tyrants who brought desolation Who