As well as De Banks we've added The Boys of Fairhill, The Bold Thady Quill and Beautiful City to the repertoire..." />

Cork Song Lyrics

Posted on Aug 5, 2005 in News

 
 

BOYS OF FAIRHILL

The smell on Patrick's Bridge is wickedHow does Father Matthew stick it?
Here's up them all says the boys of Fairhill

The Blarney hens don't lays at all
And when they lays they lays 'em small
Here's up them all says the boys of Fairhill

The Blackpool girls are very rude
They go swimming in the nudeHere's up them all says the boys of Fairhill

Blackpool boys are very nice
I have tried them once or twice
Here's up them all says the boys of Fairhill

If you come to Cork you'll get drisheen
Murphy's stout and pigs crubeens
Here's up them all says the boys of Fairhill

Well, Christy Ring he hooked the ball
We hooked him up, balls and all
Here's up them all says the boys of Fairhill

The smell on Patrick's Bridge is wicked
How does Father Matthew stick it?
Here's up them all says the boys of Fairhill
Here's up them all says the boys of Fairhill


THE BOLD THADY QUILL

Ye maids of Dunhallow who're anxious for courting,
A word of advice I will give unto ye:Proceed to Banteer to the athletic sporting
And hand in your name to the club committee.

But do not commence any sketch of your progress
till a carriage ye see comin' over the hill,
And down through the valleys and glens of Kilcorney
With that Muskerry sportsman, the bold Thady Quill

cho: For ramblin', for rovin', for football or courtin'
For drinkin' strong liquor as fast as you fill;
In all your days rovin', you'll find none so jovial

As the Muskerry sportsman, the bold Thady Quill.
Thady was famous in many other places;
At the athletic meeting held out in Cloghroe
He won the long jump without throwing off his braces
Goin' fifty four feet every sweep he woultd throw.
At the pullin' o' the weight there was a Dublin man foremost
But Thady outreached and exceeded him still
And around the whole field rang the wild ringing chorus
"Here's luck to our hero! the bold Thady Quill."

At the great hurlin' match between Cork and Tipperary
'Twas played in the park by the banks of the Lee
Our own darlin' boys were afraid of being baten,
So they send for bold Thady to Ballinagree.
'He hurled the ball left and right in their facesA
nd show'd those Tipp'rary boys learnin' and skill
If they came in this way, shure he surely would brain' em
And the papers full of the praise for Thade Quill.

In the year ninety-one before Parnell was taken,
Thade was outrageously breaking the peace
He got a light sentence for causin' commotion,
And six months hard labour for batin' police.
But in spite of coercion he's still agitatin'
Ev'ry drop of his life's blood he's willing to spill,
To gain for old Ireland complete liberation,
"Till then there's no rest for me" says bold Thady Quill

At the Cork Exhibition there was a fair lady,
Whose fortune exceeded a million or more;
But a bad constitution had ruined her completely,
And medical treatment had failed o'er and o'er.
"Oh Mama" said she, I know what'll cure me
And all me diseases most certainly kill,
Give over your doctors and medical treatment,
I'd rather one squeeze outa bold Thady Quill.

BEAUTIFUL CITY

I have sought to discover a haven of rest
Where the sun sinks by night in the land of the West
I have dwelt with the red man in green forest bowers
O'er the wild rolling prairie bespangled with flowers
I have hived to the north, where the hardy pine grows
'Mid the wolf and the bear, and the bleak winter snows
I have roamed through all climates,
but none could I see Like the green hills of Cork and my home by the Lee

CHORUS
Beautiful city, charming and pretty Beautiful city, my home by the Lee

I have slumbered in palm groves by clear running streams
And the wild groves of Blarney come haunting my dreams
I have listened to bells on the soft summer wind
But the sweet bells of Shandon were dear to my mind
I have mixed in gay dances my sorrows to hide
But there's none like the maiden that's now by my side
There is nought in the land of the slave or the free
Like the green hills of Cork and my home by the Lee Chorus

The bold feudal castles look down on the Rhine
That flows through the land of the olive and vine
There is freedom and health in the fresh mountain breeze
That careers round the home of the brave Tyrolese
There is beauty and love in all spots of the earth
To the heart that can call it the land of its birth
But of all the fair countries, the dearest to me
Are the green hills of Cork and my home by the Lee Chorus

THE BANKS OF MY OWN LOVELY LEE
How oft do my thoughts in their fancy take flight
To the home of my childhood away,
To the days when each patriot's vision seem'd bright
Ere I dreamed that those joys should decay.

When my heart was as light as the wild winds that blow
Down the Mardyke through each elm tree,
Where I sported and play'd 'neath each green leafy shade
On the banks of my own lovely Lee.

And then in the springtime of laughter and song
Can I ever forget the sweet hours?
With the friends of my youth as we rambled along
'Mongst the green mossy banks and wild flowers. T

hen too, when the evening sun's sinking to rest
Sheds its golden light over the sea
The maid with her lover the wild daisies pressed
On the banks of my own lovely Lee
The maid with her lover the wild daisies pressed
On the banks of my own lovely Lee

'Tis a beautiful land this dear isle of song
Its gems shed their light to the world
And her faithful sons bore thro' ages of wrong,
The standard St. Patrick unfurled.

Oh! would I were there with the friends I love best
And my fond bosom's partner with me
We'd roam thy banks over, and when weary we'd rest
By thy waters, my own lovely Lee,
We'd roam thy banks over, and when weary we'd rest
By thy waters, my own lovely Lee,

Oh what joys should be mine ere this life should decline
To seek shells on thy sea-girdled shore.
While the steel-feathered eagle, oft splashing the brine
Brings longing for freedom once more.

Oh all that on earth I wish for or crave Is that my last crimson drop be for thee,
To moisten the grass of my forefathers' grave
On the banks of my own lovely Lee
To moisten the grass of my forefathers' grave
On the banks of my own lovely Lee

by J. C. Flanahan, Dick Forbes

 
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