The Blarney Roses

by Life Of Riley

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about

This is a collection of traditional, mostly Irish songs and ceilidh dance tunes performed with unique style and flair.
But be warned that listening to some of these tracks may lead to a great deal of foot tapping and jigging about.

credits

released November 24, 2014

Morris Wintle - Vocals, guitar, tenor banjo, keyboard.
Penny Plowden - Vocals, Irish Whistles.

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about

Life Of Riley UK

By aligning their unwavering dedication to the do-it-yourself work ethic with a signature folk-rock sound, singer/guitarist/banjoist/keyboardist Morris Wintle and Penny Plowden, vocalist and suburb exponent of the Irish Whistles are helping to shape the landscape of today’s folk-rock music scene.
Stylistically eclectic songs and arrangements of traditional tune sets.
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Track Name: The Blarney Roses
Can anybody tell me where the Blarney Roses grow
It might be down in Limerick town, it might be in Mayo
It's somewhere in the Emerald Isle
& this I want to know
Can anybody tell me where the Blarney Roses grow

Twas over in old Ireland near the town of Cushendall
One morn I met a damsel there, the fairest of them all
'Twas with my young affections
& my money did she go
& she told me she belonged to where the Blarney Roses grow

Can anybody tell me where the Blarney Roses grow
It might be down in Limerick town, it might be in Mayo
It's somewhere in the Emerald Isle
& this I want to know
Can anybody tell me where the Blarney Roses grow

Her cheeks were like the roses & her hair a raven hue
Afore that she was done with me she had me raving too
She left me sorely stranded not a coin she left you know
& she told me she belonged to where the Blarney Roses grow

Can anybody tell me where the Blarney Roses grow
It might be down in Limerick town, it might be in Mayo
It's somewhere in the Emerald Isle
& this I want to know
Can anybody tell me where the Blarney Roses grow

They've roses in Killarney & the same in County Clare
But 'pon my word those roses, boys
I can't find anywhere
She blarney'd me & by the powers
She left me broke ho ho
Did this damsel that belonged to where the Blarney Roses grow

Can anybody tell me where the Blarney Roses grow
It might be down in Limerick town, it might be in Mayo
It's somewhere in the Emerald Isle
& this I want to know
Can anybody tell me where the Blarney Roses grow

Acushla gra macree me boys she murmured soft did she
If you belong to Ireland it's yourself belongs to me
Her Donegal comeallye brogue it captured me you know
Bad luck to her & bugger the place where the Blarney Roses grow

Can anybody tell me where the Blarney Roses grow
It might be down in Limerick town or over in Mayo
It's somewhere in the Emerald Isle
& this I want to know
Can anybody tell me where the Blarney Roses grow

Can anybody tell me where the Blarney Roses grow
It might be down in Limerick town, it might be in Mayo
It's somewhere in the Emerald Isle
& this I want to know
Can anybody tell me where the Blarney Roses grow
Track Name: The Irish Rover
n the year of our Lord 1806
We set sail from the Coal Quay of Cork
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the grand city hall of New York
We’d an elegant craft, it was rigged fore & aft
& how the trade winds drove her
She had 23 masts & she stood several blasts
And they called her the Irish Rover

& it’s fare thee well, my pretty little girl,
for I must sail away (& they’ve all got knobs on)
Fare thee well, my pretty little girl, for I must sail away

There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Johnny McGwirk
who was scared stiff of work
And a man from West Meath called Malone
There was Slugger O'Toole, he was drunk as a rule
& Fighting Bill Tracy from Dover
& your man, Mick McCann from the banks of the Bann
Was the skipper of the Irish Rover

& it’s fare thee well, my pretty little girl,
for I must sail away (& they’ve all got knobs on)
Fare thee well, my pretty little girl, for I must sail away

We had 1 million bags of the best Sligo rags
We had 2 million barrels of stones
We had 3 million bails of old nanny goats tails
We had 4 million barrels of bones
We had 5 million hogs, 6 million dogs
7 million barrels of porter
We had 8 million sides of old blind horses hides
In the hold of the Irish Rover

& it’s fare thee well, my pretty little girl,
for I must sail away (& they’ve all got knobs on)
Fare thee well, my pretty little girl, for I must sail away

& it’s fare thee well, my pretty little girl,
for I must sail away (& they’ve all got knobs on)
Fare thee well, my pretty little girl, for I must sail away

We had sailed 7 years when the measles broke out
And the ship lost its way in the fog
And that whale of a crew was reduced down to 2
Just myself and the Captain's old dog
Then the ship struck a rock, what a terrible shock
The bulkhead was turned right over
Turned 9 times around & t' poor old dog was drowned
I'm the last of The Irish Rover

& it’s fare thee well, my pretty little girl,
for I must sail away (& they’ve all got knobs on)
Fare thee well, my pretty little girl, for I must sail away
Track Name: Star Of The County Down
Near Banbridge Town in the County Down
One morning last July
From a boreen green came a sweet colleen
And she smiled as she passed me by
She looked so sweet from her two bare feet
To the sheen of her nut brown hair
Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself
For to see I was really there

From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
And from Galway to Dublin Town
No maid I've seen like the brown colleen
That I met in the County Down

As she onward sped, sure I scratched my head
And I looked with a feelin' rare
And I says, says I, to a passer-by
Who's the maid with the nut brown hair
He smiled at me and he says, says he
That's the gem of Ireland's crown
Young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann
She's the star of the County Down

From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
And from Galway to Dublin Town
No maid I've seen like the brown colleen
That I met in the County Down

At the Harvest Fair she'll be surely there
And I'll dress in my Sunday clothes
With my shoes shone bright & my hat cocked right
For a smile from my nut brown rose
No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke
Till my plough turns rust coloured brown
Till a smiling bride by my own fireside
Sits the star of the County Down

From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
And from Galway to Dublin Town
No maid I've seen like the brown colleen
That I met in the County Down

Near Banbridge Town in the County Down
One morning last July
From a boreen green came a sweet colleen
And she smiled as she passed me by
She looked so sweet from her two bare feet
To the sheen of her nut brown hair
Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself
For to see I was really there

From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
And from Galway to Dublin Town
No maid I've seen like the brown colleen
That I met in the County Down

From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
And from Galway to Dublin Town
No maid I've seen like the brown colleen
That I met in the County Down

From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay
And from Galway to Dublin Town
No maid I've seen like the brown colleen
That I met in the County Down
Track Name: It Was All For Our Rightful King
It was all for our rightful king
We left fair Scotland’s strand
It was all for our rightful king
We e'er saw Irish land my dear
We e'er saw Irish land

Now all is done that may be done
& all is done in vain
My love & native land farewell
For I must cross the main my dear
For I must cross the main

He turned him right & round about
Upon the Irish shore
& gave his bridal reins a shake
Here’s adieu for ever more my dear
Here’s adieu for ever more

The soldier from the wars returns
The sailor from the main
But I have parted from my love
Never to meet again my dear
Never to meet again

When day is done & night is come
& all folk bound to sleep
I think on him that’s far away
The lee long night & weep my dear
The lee long night & weep
Track Name: Rattling Roaring Willie
Rattling Roaring Willie O he's gone to the fair
For to sell his fiddle and buy some other ware
But parting with his fiddle the salt tear filled his e'e
Rattling Roaring Willie you’re welcome home to me

O Willie come sell your fiddle, O sell your fiddle so fine
O Willie come sell your fiddle and buy a pint o’ wine
If I should sell my fiddle the world would think I was mad
For many a ranting day my fiddle and I have had

As I came by the tavern I cannily looked within
Rattling Roaring Willie was sitting at yon board end
Sitting at yon board end and in good company
Rattling Roaring Willie you’re welcome home to me.