A Little Bit of Heaven
‘Tis a dear old land of leprechauns and wondrous wishing wells,
And no where else on God’s green earth have they such lakes and dells!
No wonder that the Angels loved it’s shamrock-bordered shore,
‘Tis a little bit of heaven, and I love it more and more.

Have you ever heard the story of how Ireland got it’s name?
I’ll tell you so you’ll understand from whence old Ireland came;
No wonder that we’re proud of that dear land across the sea,
For here’s the way me dear old mother told the tale to me:

Sure a little bit of heaven fell from out the sky one day,
And nestled on the ocean in a spot so far away;
And when the angels found it, sure it looked so sweet and fair,
They said “suppose we leave it, for it looks so peaceful there.”

So they sprinkled it with star dust just to make the shamrock’s grow,
‘Tis the only place you’ll find them, no matter where you go;
Then they dotted it with silver, to make it’s lakes so grand,
And when they had it finished, sure they called it Ireland.

The Fields Of Athenry
By a lonely prison wall, I heard a young girl calling,
“Michael they are taking you away,”
“For you stole Trevelyn’s corn, so the young might see the morn
Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay.”

Low, lie the fields of Athenry, where once we watched the small free birds fly.
Our love was on the wing, we had dreams and songs to sing,
It’s so lonely ‘round the fields of Athenry.

By a lonely prison wall, I heard a young man calling,
“Nothing matters Mary when you’re free.”
“Against the famine and the crown, I rebelled, they ran me down
Now you must raise our child with dignity.”

By a lonely harbor wall, she watched the last star falling,
And that prison ship sailed out against the sky.
Sure she’ll wait and hope and pray, for her love in Botany Bay.
It’s so lonely ‘round the fields of Athenry.

The Foggy Dew
As down the glen one Easter morn to a city fair rode I.
There armed lines of marching men in squadrons passed me by.
No pipe did hum, no battle drum did sound its dread tattoo.
But the Angelus bell o’er the Liffey swell, rang out through the foggy dew.

‘Twas England bade our Wild Geese go that small nations might be free.
But their lonely graves are by Suvla’s waves or the fringe of the great North Sea.
Oh, had they died by Pearse’s side, or fought with Cathal Brugha,
Their names we’d keep where the Fenians sleep, ‘neath the shroud of the foggy dew.

Right proudly high over Dublin town they hung out the flag of war.
‘Twas better to die ‘neath an Irish sky than at Suvla or Sud el Bar.
And from the plains of Royal Meath strong men came hurrying through,
While Brittania’s Huns, with their great bit guns, sailed in through the foggy dew.

But the bravest fell and the requiem bell rang mournfully and clear.
For those who died that Easter tide, in the springtime of the year.
While the world did gaze with deep amaze, at those fearless men but few,
Who bore the fight, that freedom’s light, might shine through the foggy dew

Dear Old Donegal
It seems like only yesterday I sailed from out of Cork,
A wanderer from Erin’s Isle I landed in New York.
There wasn’t a soul to greet me there, a stranger on your shore,
But Irish luck was with me here and riches came galore.

And now that I’m going back again to dear old Erin’s Isle,
My friends will meet me on the pier and greet me with a smile.
Their faces, sure, I’ve almost forgot I’ve been so long away,
But me mother will introduce them all and this to me will say:

“Shake hands with your Uncle Mike, me boy, and here is your sister Kate,
And here’s the girl you used to swing down by the garden gate.
Shake hands with all of the neighbors and kiss the colleens all,
You’re as welcome as the flowers in spring to dear old Donegal.”

They’ll give a party when I go home, they’ll come from near and far,
They’ll line the roads for miles and miles with Irish jauntin’ cars.
The spirits will flow and we’ll all be gay, we’ll fill your hearts with joy,
The piper will play an Irish reel to greet the Yankee boy

We’ll dance and sing the whole night long such fun as never seen,
The lads will be decked in corduroy, the colleens wearin’ green.
There’ll be thousands there that I never saw I’ve been so long away,
But me mother will introduce them all and this to me will say:

(Meet Brannigan, Fannigan, Milligan, Gilligan, Duffy, McCuffy, Malachy, Mahone
Rafferty, Lafferty, Donnelly, Connelly, Dooley, O’Hooley, Muldowney, Malone.
Madigan, Cadigan, Lanihan, Flanihan, Fagan, O’Hagan, O’Hoolihan, Flynn,
Shanihan, Manihan, Fogarty, Hogarty, Kelly, O’Kelly, McGuinness, McGuinn.)

Mother Machree
There’s a spot in my heart which no colleen may own,
There’s a depth in my soul never sounded or known;
There’s a place in my memory, my life that you fill,
No other can take it, no one ever will.

Sure, I love the dear silver that shines in your hair,
And the brow that’s all furrowed, and wrinkled with care.
I kiss the dear fingers so toil-worn for me,
Oh, God bless you and keep you,
Mother Machree.

Every sorrow or care in the dear days gone by,
Was made bright by the light of the smile in your eye.
Like a candle that’s set in a window at night,
Your fond love has cheered me, and guided me right.

How Are Things In Glocca Morra
How are things in Glocca Morra, is that little brook still leaping there?
Does it still run down to Donnycove, through Killybegs, Kilkerry and Kildare?
How are things in Glocca Morra, is that willow tree still weeping there?
Does that laddie with the twinklin’ eye, come whistlin’ by,
And does he walk away, sad and dreamy there, not to see me there?

I hear a bird, Londonderry bird, it well may be he’s bringing me a cheering word.
I feel a breeze, River Shannon breeze, it well may be it’s followed me across the seas,
Then tell me please:

Danny Boy
Oh, Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling, From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer’s gone and all the roses falling, It’s you, it’s you must go and I must bide.

But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow, Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow
It’s I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow, Oh, Danny Boy, oh Danny, boy, I love you so!
But when ye come, and all the flowers are dying, If I am dead, as dead I well may be
Ye’ll come and find the place where I am lying, And kneel and say an “Ave” there for me.

And I shall hear, though soft ye tread above me, And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be
For you will bend and tell me that you love me, And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me!

Eileen Oge
Eileen Oge, an’ that the darlin’s name is,
Through the barony her features they were famous,
If we loved her, who is there to blame us
For wasn’t she the Pride of Petravore?
But her beauty made us all so shy.
Not a man could look her in the eye.
Boys, oh Boys! Sure that’s the reason why
We’re in mournin’ for the Pride of Petravore.

Eileen Oge! Me heart is growin’ grey,
Ever since the day you wandered far away
Eileen Oge! There’s good fish in the say
But there’s no one like the Pride of Petravore.

Friday at the fair of Ballintubber,
Eileen met McGrath the cattle jobber
I’d like to set me mark upon the robber
For he stole away the Pride of Petravore.
He never seemed to see the girl at all
Even when she ogled him underneath her shawl
Lookin’ big and masterful when she was lookin’ small
Most provoking for the Pride of Petravore. (chorus)

So it went as it was in the beginning
Eileen Oge was bent upon the winning
Big McGrath contentedly was grinning
Being courted by the Pride of Petravore.
Sez he, “I know a girl who could knock you into fits.”
At that Eileen nearly lost her wits
The upshot of the ruction was that now the robber sits
With his arm around the Pride of Petravore. (chorus)

Boys, oh boys! With fate ‘tis hard to grapple
Of me eye ‘tis Eileen was the apple
And now to see her walkin’ to the chapel
With the hardest featured man in Petravore.
And now boys this is all I have to say
When you do your courtin’ make no display
If you want them to run after you then run the other way
For they’re mostly like the Pride of Petravore. (chorus)

When Irish Eyes Are Smiling
There’s a tear in your eye and I’m wondering why
For it never should be there at all
With such power in your smile sure a stone you’d beguile
And there’s never a teardrop should fall.

When your sweet lilting laughter’s like some fairy song
And your eyes twinkle bright as can be
You should laugh all the while and all other times smile
And now smile a smile for me.

When Irish eyes are smiling
Sure it’s like a morn’ in spring
In the lilt of Irish laughter
You can hear the angel’s sing.

When Irish hearts are happy
All the world seems bright and gay
And when Irish eyes are smiling
Sure they steal your heart away.

Galway Bay
If you ever go across the sea to Ireland
Then may at the closing of your day
You will sit and watch the moon rise over Claddagh
And see the sun go down on Galway Bay.

Just to hear again the ripple of the trout stream
The women in the meadows making hay
And to sit beside a turf fire in the cabin
And watch the barefoot gossoons at their play.

For the breezes blowing o’er the seas from Ireland
Are perfumed by the heather as they blow
And the women in the uplands diggin’ praties
Speak a language that the strangers do not know.

For the strangers came and tried to teach us their ways
They scorned us just for bein’ what we are
But they might as well go chasin’ after moonbeams
Or light a penny candle from a star.

And if there is going to be a life hereafter
And somehow I am sure there’s going to be
I will ask my God to let me make my heaven
In that dear land across the Irish sea.

I’ll Take You Home Again Kathleen
I’ll take you home again Kathleen, Across the ocean wild and wide
To where your heart has ever been, Since first you were my bonny bride.
The roses all have left your cheeks, I’ve watched them fade away and die
Your voice is sad when’er you speak, And tears bedim your loving eyes.

Oh, I will take you back Kathleen, To where your heart will feel no pain
And when the fields are fresh and green, I’ll take you to your home again.

To that dear home beyond the sea, My Kathleen shall again return.
And when thy old friends welcome thee, thy loving heart will cease to yearn.
Where laughs the little silver stream, beside your mother’s humble cot.
And brightest rays of sunshine gleam, there all your grief will be forgot.

The Kerry Dance
Oh, the days of the Kerry dancing, Oh, the ring of the piper’s tune!
Oh, for one of those hours of gladness, gone alas, like our youth, too soon;
When the boys began to gather in the glen of a summer’s night
And the Kerry piper’s tuning made us long with wild delight.

Oh, to think of it, Oh to dream of it, Fills my heart with tears.
Oh, the days of the Kerry dancing, oh the ring of the piper’s tune.
Oh, for one of those hours of gladness, gone alas, like our youth, too soon.

Was there ever a sweeter colleen in the dance than Eily Moore
Or a prouder lad that Thady as he boldly took the floor
Lads and lasses to your places, up the middle and down again
Ah, the merry hearted laughter ringing thro’ the happy glen. (chorus)

Time goes on, and the happy years are dead
And one by one the merry hearts have fled
Silent now is the wild and lonely glen
Where the bright glad laugh will echo ne’er again.
Only dreaming of days gone by fills my heart with tears.

Loving voices of old companions stealing out of the past once more
And the sound of the dear old music, soft and sweet as in days of yore
When the boys began to gather in the glen of a summer night
And the Kerry piper’s tuning, made us long with wild delight. (chorus)

The Rose Of Tralee
The pale moon was rising above the green mountain
The sun was declining beneath the blue sea
When I strayed with my love to the pure crystal fountain
That stands in the beautiful vale of Tralee.

She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer
Yet t’was not her beauty alone that won me
Oh, no! T’was the truth in her eye ever dawning
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee!

The cool shades of evening their mantles were spreading
And Mary all smiling sat listening to me
The moon through the valley her pale rays was shedding
When I won the heart of the Rose of Tralee.

Where the River Shannon Flows
There’s a pretty spot in Ireland, I always claim for my land
Where the fairies and the blarney, will never, never die
It’s the land of the shillelagh, my heart goes back there daily
To the girl I left behind me, when we kissed and said good-bye.

Where dear old Shannon’s flowing, Where the three-leaved shamrock grows
Where my heart is is I am going, To my little Irish Rose
And the moment that I meet her, With a hug and kiss I’ll greet her
For there’s not a colleen sweeter, Where the River Shannon flows.

Sure no letter I’ll be mailing, for soon will I be sailing
And I’ll bless the ship that takes me, to my dear old Erin’s shore
There I’ll settle down forever, I’ll leave the old sod never
And I’ll whisper to my sweetheart, “come and take my name, Asthore.”

Peg O’ My Heart
I grow tired of a song if it lingers too long, And roses I’ve plucked and thrown away
But still I never change my tune, When we are strolling ’neath the moon.
Pretty Peg can’t you see, heaven sent you to me, I need you much more than I can say
I know I’m aiming high, but a dreamer can try, So why can’t I just dream and sigh my love song!

Peg O’My Heart, I love you, Don’t let us part, I love you,
I always knew, it would be you, Since I heard your lilting laughter,
It’s your Irish heart I’m after. Peg O’ My Heart, your glances
Make my heart say, how’s chances, Come be my own,
Come make your home in my heart.

Oh! My heart’s in a whirl over one little girl, I love her, I love her, yes I do.
Altho’ her heart is far away; I hope to make her mine some day.
Every beautiful rose, every violet knows, I love her, I love her fond and true
And her heart fondly sighs as I sing to her eyes, her eyes of blue, sweet eyes of blue, my darling!

Boulavogue
At Boulavogue as the sun was setting
O’er bright May meadows of Shelmalier.
A rebel hand set the heather blazing
and brought the neighbors from far and near.
Then Father Murphy from old Kilcormack
spurred up the rocks with a warning cry;
“arm, arm,” he cried, “for I’ve come to lead you
for Ireland’s freedom we fight or die.

He lead us ‘gainst the coming soldiers
And the cowardly Yeomen were put to flight
‘Twas at the Barrow, the boys of Wexford
Showed Bookey’s regiment how men could fight.
Look out for hirelings, King George of England
search every kingdom where breathes a slave,
For Father Murphy from County Wexford
Sweeps o’er the land like a mighty wave.

At Vinegar Hill, o’er the pleasant Slaney
our heroes vainly stood back to back
And the Yeos at Tullow took Father Murphy
And burned his body upon the rack.
God grant you glory, brave Father Murphy
and open heaven to all your men;
The cause that called you may call tomorrow
In another fight for the green again.

That Tumble-Down Shack in Athlone
I’m a long way from home, and my thoughts ever roam, To old Erin far over the sea;
For my heart it is there, where the skies are so fair,, And old Ireland is calling for me.

Oh, I want to go back to that tumble-down shack, Where the wild roses bloom ‘round the door;
Just to pillow my head, in the old trundle bed, Just to see my old mother once more.
There’s a bright gleaming light, guiding me home tonight, Down the long road of white cobblestone;
Down the road that leads back, to that tumble down shack, To that tumble-down shack in Athlone.

There are eyes that are sad, as they watch for a lad, In the old fashioned town of Athlone;
And I pray for the day, when I’m sailing away, To old Ireland, and mother, my own. (refrain)

An Irish Lullaby
Over In Killarney, many years ago
My mother sang a song to me in tones so sweet and low
Just a simple little ditty in her good old Irish way
And I’d give the world if she could sing
That song to me this day.

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now don’t you cry
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, too-ra-loo-ra-li
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra, that’s an Irish lullaby.

Oft in dreams I wander to that cot again
I feel her arms a ‘huggin me as when she held me then
And I hear her voice a-hummin’ to me as in days of yore
When she used to rock me fast asleep, outside the cabin door.