The minstrel boy to the war is gone,. In the ranks of death you'll find him;. His fathers sword he has girded on,. And his wild harp slung behind him..
There is not in the wild world a valley so sweet,. As the vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet;. Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart,.
(chorus). O cruel is the snow. That sweeps glencoe. And covers the grave o donald. And cruel was the foe. That raped glencoe. And murderd the house of.
Time and time again I am asked the same questions:. "John where did you study?". "Are you professionally trained?". "Is it difficult to stay in voice?".
Time and time again I am asked the same questions:. "john where did you study? ". "are you professionally trained? ". "is it difficult to stay in voice? ".
The lark in the clear air : to my sister margaret. . Dear thoughts are in my mind. And my soul soars enchanted. As I hear the sweet lark sing. In the clear air of the day.
The holly and the ivy when they are both full grown. Of all the trees that are in the wood, the holly bears the crown. . The rising of the sun and the running of the deer.
The harp that once : to oombayga and family. . The harp that once through tara's halls. The soul of music shed. Now hangs as mute on tara's walls. As if that soul were fled.
There is a voice in the silence. A voice ever calling. A voice like the song of a far distant sea. A music the soul. Of the wild breakers roaring. If floats like a dream.
How do you do young willie mcbride,. Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside,. And rest for a while 'neath the warm summer sun,. I've been walking all day and I'm nearly done.
By a lonely prison wall. I heard a young girl calling,. 'michael, they are taking you away.. For you stole travelyns corn,. So the young might see the morn,.
My brave lad sleeps in his faded coat of blue;. In a lonely grave unknown lies the heart that beat so true. He sank faint and hungry among the famish'd brave.
The Dutchman's not the kind of man. To keep his thumb jammed in the dam. That holds his dreams in. But that's a secret only Margaret knows. . When Amsterdam is golden in the morning.
The cliffs of dooneen: to izabella and tadeusz. . You may travel far from your own native home. Far away o'er the mountains far away o'er the foam. But of all the fine places that I've ever been.
Oh! list to the strains of a poor irish harper. And scorn not the strings from his poor withered hand;. Oh remember his fingers could once move more sharper.
Takes four days to get to like me. But two to wanna leave. But the part that really gets me. Are all moments in between. . Now I lie to get a little. And laugh at every little thing.
Trials and tribulations.. . When I was born the doctor didn't like me.. He grabbed my ankles, held me like a turkey.. Dear mommy, why'd you let him hit me?.
I think you need me now.. I'm from chapter to chapter.. I'll never let go.. I have an appetite.. Follow the rules of life.. Never the same thing twice..
This is what you want.. This is what you get.. Here now.. Night light.. Windows.. Waiting.. . Weakness.. Waiting.. Silent.. Payment.. . Guilty.. Haunting..
For changing lines. I've got no time tonight. In these times the wind surpasses the tide. when the wake-up's hard to find. dreams make up for your life.