Andy M. Stewart все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

I am a wand'ring minstrel man,
And Love my only theme,
I've stray'd beside the pleasant Bann,
And eke the Shannon's stream;
I've pip'd and play'd to wife and maid
By Barrow, Suir, and Nore,
But never met a maiden yet
Like Brighidin Ban Mo Store.

By the Hush
It's by the hush, me boys
I'm sure that's to hold your noise,
And listen to poor Paddy's narration.
For I was by hunger pressed,
And in poverty distressed,
And I took a thought I'd leave the Irish nation.

Ca' the yowes to the knowes
Ca' them where the heather grows
Ca' them where the burnie rowes
My bonie dearie

As I gaed down the water-side
There I met my shepherd lad:
He row'd me sweetly in his plaid

My darling, do not break your heart
Though I leave this Irish shore
Though their cruel laws may force us to part
Fate may join we two once more

Take this farewell kiss as a token
Of my love while far I stray
For true love will never be broken

Ah me, I must mourn my true love evermore
Though coldly forsaken, it's you adore
And if you'd return then I'd make you my bride
Or I'd cross the wild Atlantic to be by your side

On the morning we parted, how sad the farewell
Our words, they were few, but our thoughts none could tell
And when lost to my vision far over the brine

She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps
While around her sweet lovers are sighing
But coldly she turns from their wooings and weeps
For her heart with his cold grave is lying

She sings the wild songs of her own native home
Every note which he so loved awaking
Ah but little they think who delight in her tones

It was a' for our rightfu' King
We left fair Scotland's strand;
It was a' for our rightfu' King
We e'er saw Irish land, my dear,
We e'er saw Irish land.

Now a' is done that men can do,
And a' is done in vain;

They say Victoria loved our Highlands
Well, that's because she owned them all
A feather pen and an iron fist
Put a people's back against the wall
The silent sheilings tell their tale
Of burning thatch and of ruined door
Of families driven from their homes
And a way of life that is no more, no more

As I roved out one fine summer's morn
'Mang lofty hills, moorlands and mountains
Wha should I spy but a fair young maid
As I wi' others was out a hunting

No shoes nor stockings did she wear
And neither had she cap nor feather
But her golden hair hung in ringlets fair

he gaberlunzieman

Oh the pawky auld carle cam o'er the lea
Wi' mony guild-e'ens and guid-days tae me
Sayin', "guid wife for your charity
Would you lodge a leal poor man?"
Laddie wi my tow-ro-ae

It being a fine morning, this young man he chose
That he'd make occasion to wear his fine clothes

And it's down to the glen where the bonnie lassie goes
To give her a token of his love, we suppose

"Mary, oh Mary, if I could be your man
Between you and danger I fearlessly would stand

Pity the fate of a poor Irish stranger,
That wanders so far from his home,
That sighs for protection from want, woe, and danger,
That knows not from which way for to roam.
Yet I'll never return to Hibernia's green bowers,
For tyranny tramples the sweetest of flowers,
That once gave me comfort in loneliest hours—
Now they are gone I shall ne'er see them more.

The Orphans' Wedding
(Andy M. Stewart)

One fine summer's morning as nature was blooming,
And good folk held tae the church bell,
Two young lovers by life were deceived
And their story I sadly will tell.

Tibbie Fowler o' the glen, there's ower mony wooin' at her
Tibbie Fowler o' the glen, there's ower mony wooin' at her

Chorus (after each verse):
Wooin' at her, pu'in at her
Wantin' her, canna get her
Silly elf, it's for her pelf
A' the lads are wooin' at her