The bold Fenian men

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Appreciate this by reading along as Muireanne nic Amhlaoihbh does wonders with this air.
You may need to cut and paste the URL into the browser bar of a new page (hit control t.)
As artists are wont to do, she has varied her lyrics a tad from those printed here.

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They fought for old Ireland...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fVfjqsNpW7A

The Fenian Rising of 1867 was a rebellion against British rule in Ireland, organized by the Irish Republican Brotherhood. A contributing factor to the rising was strong resentment at the continuing negative social effects of Britain's lackadaisical response to the Great Famine of two decades past. The revolution was easily suppressed.

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'Twas down by the glen side, I met an old woman
A-plucking young nettles, she ne’er saw me coming
I listened a while to the song she was humming
Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men

'Tis fifty long years since I saw the moon beaming
On strong manly forms, on eyes with hope gleaming
I see them again, sure, in all my sad dreaming
Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men.

When I was a young girl, their marching and drilling
Awoke in the glen side sounds awesome and thrilling
They loved dear old Ireland, to die they were willing
Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men.

Some died by the glen side, some died near a stranger
And wise men have told us their cause was a failure
But they fought for old Ireland and never feared danger
Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men

I passed on my way, God be praised that I met her
Be life long or short, sure I'll never forget her
We may have brave men, but we'll never have better
Glory O, Glory O, to the bold Fenian men

The Boys of Barr na Sraide

Muireanne nic Amhliaoibh

Hunting the dreolin, from Litir to Dooneen

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rex8VnWoewk

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I urge you to read along while listening to this wonderful rendition sung
by the former Danu singer, Muireann nic Amhlaoibh.
You may need to cut and paste the URL into your browser bar on a second page (Control t).
Dreolin is Irish for "wren." Nic Amhliaoibh's version differs mildly
from the printed version, evidently for stylistic improvement.

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The town that climbs the mountain and looks upon the sea,
And sleeping time or waking, sure its there I long to be,
To walk again those kindly streets, where first my life began,
With the boys of Barr na Sráide, who hunted for the wren.

With cudgels stout we roved about to hunt the dreólín,
We looked for birds in every furze from Litir to Dooneen,
We jumped for joy beneath the sky, life held no print or plan,
And we boys in Barr na Sráide, hunting for the wren.

And when the hills were bleeding and the rifles were aflame,
To the rebel homes of Kerry the Saxon stranger came.
But the men who dared the Auxies and fought the Black-and-Tan,
Were once boys in Barr na Sráide, hunting for the wren.

So here's a hand to them tonight, those men who laughed with me,
By the groves of Carham river and the slope of Bean 'a Tí.
John Daly and Batt Andy’s and the Sheehans, Con and Dan,
And the boys of Barr na Sráide who hunted for the wren.

But now they toil on foreign soil, where they have made their way.
Deep in the heart of London town and over in Broadway.
And I am left to sing their deeds and praise them while I can,
Those boys of Barr na Sráide, who hunted for the wren.

And when the wheel of life runs down and peace comes over me,
Just lay me down near that old town between the hills and sea.
I'll take my place near those green fields, where first I grew a man,
With the boys of Barr na Sráide who hunted for the wren.

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Written by Sigerson Clifford in recognition of his friends from "the top of the street."

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Another goodie, Muhammad Al-Hussaini
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QoyLvhehdfs