rinxolsdefoc

  Farewell to Carlingford / Adéusiau a Carlingford When I was young and in my prime and could wander wild and free, there was always a longing in my mind: to follow the call of the sea. So I’ll sing farewell to Carlingford and farewell to Greenore; and I’ll think of you both day and night until I return once more, until I return once more. On all of the stormy seven seas I have sailed before the mast and the only thought within my mind: I swore it would be my last. So I’ll sing farewell to Carlingford and farewell to Greenore; and I’ll think of you both day and night until I return once more, until I return once more. Now, I have a girl called Mary Boyle and she lived in Greenore; and the foremost thought that was in her mind was to keep me safe onshore. So I’ll sing farewell to Carlingford and farewell to Greenore; and I’ll think of you both day and night until I return once more, until I return once more. Now, the landsman’s life is all his own; he can go or he can stay. But when...

  Fiddler’s Green / El Parc dels Violins. As I walked by the dockside one evening so fair to view the salt waters and taste the salt air I heard an old fisherman singing a song: “Oh, take me away boys my time is not long”. “Wrap me up in my oilskins and jumper; no more on the docks I’ll be seen. Just tell me old shipmates, I’m taking a trip mates and I’ll see you someday on Fiddler’s Green”. Now Fiddler’s Green is a place I’ve heard tell where the fishermen go if they don’t go to hell; where the skies are all clear and the dolphins do play, and the cold coast of Greenland is far, far away. Wrap me up in my oilskins and jumper; no more on the docks I’ll be seen. Just tell me old shipmates, I’m taking a trip mates and I’ll see you someday on Fiddler’s Green. Where the skies are all clear and there’s never a gail, and the fish jump on board with one swish on their tail, where you lie at your leisure, there’s no work to do, and the skippers below making tea for the crew. Wrap me up in ...

  Song for Ireland / Cant per a Irlanda Walking all the day near tall towers where falcons build their nests. Silver wings they fly, they know the call of freedom in their breasts. Saw Black Head against the sky where twisted rocks they run to the sea; living on your western shore. Saw summer sunsets, asked for more, I stood by your Atlantic Sea, and I sang a song for Ireland. Drinking all the day, In old pubs where fiddlers love to play. Saw one touch the bow, he played a reel that seamed so grand and gay. I stood on Dingle beach and cast, in wild form for Atlantic bass. Living on your western shore. Saw summer sunsets, asked for more, I stood by your Atlantic Sea, and sang a song for Ireland. Talking all the day, With true friends who try to make you stay. Telling jokes and news, singing songs to while the time away. Watched the Galway salmon run like silver dancing, darting in the sun. Living on your western shore. Saw summer sunsets, asked for more, I stood by your Atlantic Sea...

  Scorn not his simplicity / No escarniu llur simplicitat. See the child with the golden hair but eyes that show the emptiness inside, do we know can we understand just how he feels or have we really tried. See him now as he stands alone and watches children play a children’s game; simple child, he looks almost like the others yet they know he’s not the same. Scorn not his simplicity but rather try to love him all the more. Scorn not his simplicity, oh no, oh no… See him stare not recognizing that kind face that only yesterday he loved; the loving face of a mother who can’t understand what she’s been guilty of. How she cried tears of happiness the day the doctor told her “it’s a boy”; now she cries tears of helplessness and thinks of all the things he can’t enjoy. Scorn not his simplicity but rather try to love him all the more. Scorn not his simplicity, oh no, oh no… Only he knows how to face the future hopefully surrounded by despair. He won’t ask for your pity or your sympathy b...

  I am a rover / Rodamón sóc. I’m a rover, seldom sober, I’m a rover of high degree; it’s when I’m drinking I’m always thinking how to gain my love’s company. Though the night be as dark as dungeon, not a star can be seen above. I will be guided without a stumble, into the arms of my own true love. I’m a rover, seldom sober, I’m a rover of high degree; it’s when I’m drinking I’m always thinking how to gain my love’s company. He stepped up to her bedroom window kneeling gently upon a stone; He whispers through her bedroom window, my darling dear do you lie alone? I’m a rover, seldom sober, I’m a rover of high degree; it’s when I’m drinking I’m always thinking how to gain my love’s company. She raised her head from her down soft pillow, with her arms around her breasts; says: ”Who is that that my bedroom window is disturbing me at my long night’s rest?” I’m a rover, seldom sober, I’m a rover of high degree; it’s when I’m drinking I’m always thinking how to gain my love’s company...

  The Bonny Shoals of Herring / Els Bells Bancs d’Arengades. With our nets and gear we’re faring On the wild and wasteful ocean It’s out there, on the deep, we harvest and reap our bread As we hunt the bonny shoals of herring. Oh, it was a fine and a pleasant day Out of Yarmouth harbour, I was faring As a cabin boy on a sailing lugger We were following the shoals of herring. Now you’re up on deck, you’re a fisherman You can swear and show a manly bearing Take your turn on watch with the other fellows As you’re hunting for the shoals of herring. Now we fished the Swarth and the Broken Bank I was cook and I’d a quarter share in And I used to sleep standing on me feet As we hunted for the shoals of herring. We left the home grounds in the month of June and for Canny Shields we soon were bearing with a hundred cran of the silver darlings That we’d taken from the shoals of herring. In the stormy seas and the living gales Just to earn your daily bread you’re faring, from the Dover Strait...

Dirty Old Town / Bruta Ciutat. I met my love by the gas works wall, dreamed a dream by the old canal, I kissed my girl by the factory wall. Dirty old town, dirty old town. I heard a siren from the docks, saw a train set the night on fire, I smelled the spring on the smoky wind. Dirty old town, dirty old town. Clouds are drifting across the moon, cats are prowling on their beat. Spring’s a girl from the streets at night. Dirty old town, dirty old town. I’m going to make a good sharp axe, shining steel tempered in the fire, I’ll chop you down like an old dead tree. Dirty old town, dirty old town. I met my love by the gas works wall, dreamed a dream by the old canal, I kissed my girl by the factory wall. Dirty old town, dirty old town. Dirty old town, dirty old town. A prop del “gas”, allà ens vam trobar; vam somniar prop del vell canal; la vaig besar a prop del treball. Bruta ciutat, vella ciutat. So de sirena des dels molls, també un tren encenent la nit; enmig del fum un bri de perfum....

Peggy Gordon Peggy Gordon  O Peggy Gordon, you are my darling; come sit you down upon my knee, come tell to me the very reason why I am slighted so by thee. I am so in love that I can’t deny it; my heart lies smothered in my breast. It’s not for you to let the whole world know it; a troubled mind can no, no rest. I did put my head to a cask of brandy; it was my fancy, I do declare. For when I’m drinking, I’m thinking and wishing Peggy Gordon was here. I wish I was away in Ingo, far across the briny sea, sailing over the deepest ocean where love nor care never bother me. I wish I was in some lonesome valley where woman kind cannot be found, where the pretty small birds do change their voices and every moment the different sound. O Peggy Gordon, You are my darling; come sit you down upon my knee, come tell to me the very reason why I am slighted so by thee. Oh! Peggy Gordon, m’agrades tant!; vine i seu al meu genoll, digue’m per què, per quina raó sóc menyspreat, tant i tant per tu. ...