Chansons Irlandaises

The night was dark, the battle ended, 
The moon shown down O'Connell street, 
I stood alone where our brave men perished, 
They have gone their God to meet. 

Chorus: 
My only son was shot in Dublin, 
Fighting for his country bold, 
He fought for Ireland and for Ireland only, 
The harp and shamrock, green white and gold.

The first I met, was a grey haired father, 
Searching for his only son, 
I said old man, so there's no use searching, 
Your only son to heaven has gone.

Chorus - "Your" only son

My God he cried, I am broken hearted, 
My God he cried, going on his knees, 
I knew my son was too kindhearted, 
I knew my son would never yield.

Chorus - "My" only son

The last I met was a dying rebel, 
Bending low, I heard him say, 
God bless my home in dear Cork city, 
God bless the cause for which I die.

I am come of the seed of the people 
The people that sorrow 
That have no treasure but hope 
No riches laid up 
But a memory of an Ancient glory 
My mother bore me in bondage 
In bondage me mother was born 
I'm of the blood of serfs 
The children with whom I have played 
The men and women with whom I have eaten 
Have had masters over them 
Have been under the lash of masters 
And, though gentle, have served churls 
The hands that have touched mine 
The dear hands, whose touch is familiar to me 
Have worn shameful manacles, 
Have been bitten at the wrist by manacles 
Have grown hard with manacles 
And the task-work of strangers 
I am flesh of the flesh of these lowly 
I am bone of their bone 
I, that have never submitted 
I, that have a soul, 
Greater than the souls of my people's masters 
I, that have vision and prophecy 
And the gift of fiery speech 
I, that have spoken with God 
On the top of his holy hill 
And because I am of the people 
I understand the people 
I am sorrowful with their sorrow 
I am hungry with their desire 
My heart has been heavy with the grief of mothers 
My eyes have been wet with the tears of children 
I have yearned with old wistful men 
And laughed or cursed with young men 
Their shame is my shame 
And I've reddened for it 
Reddened for that they have served 
They who should be free 
Reddened for that they have gone in want 
While others have been full 
Reddened for that they have walked in fear of lawyers 
And of their jailers 
With their writs of summons and their handcuffs 
Men mean and cruel 
I could have borne stripes on my body 
Rather than this shame of my people 
And now I speak, being full of vision 
I speak to my people and I speak in my people's name 
To the masters of my people 
I say to my people that they are holy 
That they are august, despite their chains 
That they are greater than those that hold them 
And stronger and purer 
That they have but need of courage 
And to call on the name of their God 
God the unforgetting 
The dear God that loves the people 
For whom he died naked, suffering shame 
And I say to my people's masters: "Beware" 
Beware of the thing that is coming 
Beware of the risen people, who shall take 
What ye would not give 
Did ye think to conquer the people? 
Or that Law is stronger than life 
And than men's desire to be free? 
We will try it out with you 
Ye, that have harried and held 
Ye, that have bullied and bribed 
Tyrants, Hypocrites, Liars  

I heard a song in Antrim, 
I heard a song in Clare, 
And in the homes of Ireland 
I heard it everywhere. 
The little children sang it 
Beside the glowing fire 
Twas lilted in the brown fields 
By son and aged sire:

God be with the brave boys, 
God be with the true, 
Who gave their young and gallant lives 
Dear Ireland for you! 
Bright be their memory 
In every town and glen; 
God speed the day when to the fray 
Their likes will march again!

I heard a prayer in Ireland 
When people told their beads 
And placed with God above them 
Their sorrows and their needs: 
It rose from many a sad heart, 
And many a proud one too, 
That gave its best and dearest 
To one called Róisín Dubh:

I heard a call in Ireland 
It rang from hill to hill, 
And where it went a warrior host 
Came thronging with a will 
To march along the old road, 
However hard it be 
And fight again the old fight 
For Ireland's liberty. 

When apples still grow in November, 
When blossoms still grow from each tree, 
When leaves are still green in December, 
It's then that our land will be free. 
I wander the hills and valleys, 
And still through my sorrow I see, 
A land that has never known freedom, 
And only her rivers run free.

I drink to the death of her manhood 
Those men who'd rather have died 
Than to live in the cold chains of bondage 
To bring back their rights were denied. 
Oh, where are you now that we need you, 
What burns where the flame used to be 
Are you gone like the snow of last winter 
And will only our rivers run free?

How sweet is life, but we're crying 
How mellow the wine, but we're dry. 
How fragrant the rose, but it's dying 
How gentle the wind, but it sighs. 
What good is in youth when it's aging? 
What good is in eyes that can't see? 
When there's sorrow in sunshine and flowers 
And still only our rivers run free. 

In 1916, in the year of our Lord 
Fighting came to Ireland like it never had before 
For freedom comes to those who fight for its day 
So I picked up my rifle and joined the IRA

A free and united Ireland was our only desire 
And the best of the British Army couldn't put out that fire 
But a deal with the devil was soon put forth 
Freedom for the South and nothing for the North

Well this didn't seem really right with me 
For Ireland is one from sea to sea 
And the IRA said our job's not done 
So off to the North I went with my gun

We fought in the fields, we fought in the streets 
And the English knew we couldn't be beat 
We fought with rifles, we fought with rocks 
And sent many a soldier home in a box

The fight has been long and many have fell 
And we weep for the rebels who starved alone in a cell 
For the price of our freedom is paid with blood 
of those IRA men who have died in the mud

Is life so sweet or is peace so dear? 
That the weight of chains are easy to bear 
For freedom comes to those who fight for its day 
So pick up your rifle and join the IRA 

chorus: 
Where are the lads who stood with me 
When history was made? 
Oh, gra mo chree I long to see 
The Boys of the Old Brigade.

"Oh father, why are you so sad, 
On this bright Easter morn? 
When Irishmen are proud and glad 
Of the land where they were born." 
"Oh, son, I see sad mem'ries view 
Of far-off distant days, 
When, being just a boy like you, 
I joined the old brigade.

In hills and farms the call to arms 
Was heard by one and all, 
And from the glens came brave young men 
To answer Ireland's call. 
'Twas long ago we faced the foe, 
The old brigade and me, 
But by my side they fought and died 
That Ireland might be free.

And now, my boy, I've told you why 
On Easter morn I sigh 
For I recall my comrades all 
From dark old days gone by, 
I think of men who fought in glens 
With rifles and grenade 
May Heaven keep the men who sleep 
From the ranks of the old brigade. 

Chorus 
We're on the one road sharing the one load 
We're on the road to God knows where 
We're on the one road, it maybe the wrong road 
But we're together now who cares 
North men, south men, comrades all 
Dublin, Belfast, Cork and Donegal 
We're on the one road, singin' along 
Singin' a soldiers song

The night is darkest just before the dawn 
And from the sunshine Ireland is reborn 
So come all ye united Irishmen 
We'll make our land a nation once again

We'll sing a song, a soldier's song, 
With cheering rousing chorus, 
As round our blazing fires we throng, 
The starry heavens o'er us; 
Impatient for the coming fight, 
And as we wait the morning's light, 
Here in the silence of the night,  
We'll chant a soldier's song.

Chorus:  
Soldiers are we 
whose lives are pledged to Ireland; 
Some have come 
from a land beyond the wave. 
Sworn to be free, 
No more our ancient sire land 
Shall shelter the despot or the slave. 
Tonight we man the gap of danger 
In Erin's cause, come woe or weal 
'Mid cannons' roar and rifles peal, 
We'll chant a soldier's song

In valley green, on towering crag, 
Our fathers fought before us, 
And conquered 'neath the same old flag 
That's proudly floating o'er us. 
We're children of a fighting race, 
That never yet has known disgrace, 
And as we march, the foe to face, 
We'll chant a soldier's song

 Chorus 

Sons of the Gael! Men of the Pale! 
The long watched day is breaking; 
The serried ranks of Inisfail 
Shall set the Tyrant quaking. 
Our camp fires now are burning low; 
See in the east a silv'ry glow, 
Out yonder waits the Saxon foe, 
So chant a soldier's song.

Chorus