ON THE ONE ROAD
FAINNE GAEL AN LAE / MAID OF FIFE
Traditional
There once was a troop of Irish dragoons
Come marching down through Fife-e-O
And the captain fell in love with a very bonny lass
And her name it was called pretty Peggy-O
"Come down the stairs, pretty Peggy, my dear
Come down the stairs, pretty Peggy-O
Oh, come down the stairs, comb back your yellow hair
Bid a long farewell to your mammy-O
"I never did intend a soldiers's lady for to be
I never will marry a soldier-O
I never did intend to go to a foreign land
And I never will marry a soldier-O
The colonel he cried: "Mount, mount, boys, mount"
The captain he cried: "Tarry-O
We’ll tarry for a while, for another day or twa
Til I see if this bonny lass will marry-O"
Long 'ere we came to the town of Ackerglass
Our captain we had to carry-O
And long 'ere we came to the streets of Aberdeen
Our captain we had to bury-O
Green grow the birks on bonny Ethen-side
And low lie the lowlands of Fife-e-O
Well, the captain's name was Ned, and he died for a maid
He died for the chambermaid of Fife-e-O
Oh there's many a bonny lass in the town of Ackerglass
There's many a bonny lassie in the cheerie-O
There's many a bonny Jean in the streets of Aberdeen
But the flower of them all is in Fife-e-O
LORE **********************************************************************************************************
“Maid of Fife” was the first song we practiced under the official name of Irishtown Road.
It was also the first song we performed at our first band job. I guess that it should have been the first song on our first album, but it wasn’t.
THE GHOSTS OF GETTYSBURG
Brian Colgan
Points on the map, a tourist trap / on the hallowed grounds of July
Commerce and change aren’t all that strange in the land where the fallen brothers lie
But here at the height of the madness, haunting some Gettysburg address
In hopes of a genuine sighting, the wishful and the curious and the gullible are hoping to see
The Ghosts of Gettysburg walking the streets and the alleys-o
The Ghosts of Gettysburg, marching ‘cross spirit fields, not ready to yield, not yet ready to go
Way after dark when the buses are parked and the lanterns and candles are extinguished
When the streets are deserted and quiet, the real spirit world is distinguished
There’s Patrick O’Rorke, Barney Divine and the boys of the Fighting ’69
Lizzie Thorpe, Wesley Culp, John Burns, G.W. Sandoe and the soldiers at Iverson’s Pit
The Ghosts of Gettysburg walking the streets and the alleys-o
The Ghosts of Gettysburg, marching ‘cross spirit fields, not ready to yield, not yet ready to go
Way after dark when the buses are parked and the lanterns and candles are extinguished
Haunting the pubs, where pints are quaffed, uisce beatha imbibed, the real spirit world is distinguished
Over by O’Rorke’s, the lads from Barney Divine, at Garryowen with the Fighting ’69
There’s Averill, the Bowlings, Colgan, Diviney and the Ryans
The Ghosts of Gettysburg walking the streets and the alleys-o
The Ghosts of Gettysburg, crossing from Spiritfields, not ready to yield, not yet ready to go
The Ghosts of Gettysburg walking the streets and the alleys-o
The Ghosts of Gettysburg, closing down Spiritfields, not ready to yield, not yet ready to go
Not ready to yield not yet ready to go
LORE **********************************************************************************************************
The inside album art (see photo above) pictures some of the “Ghosts of Gettysburg” that frequented our haunts over the years...you’ll find Averill in the Fighting ‘69th NY State Volunteers...somewhere, the Ryans as part of Rodney Owens’ parade, Bowling as St. Patrick and Diviney as the ghost of Abraham Lincoln. Thanks for lending us your likenesses and for being so sweet (not suing) when Eileen told you after the fact...The trio of men centered in the background are Mike O’Connor, Dave Bowman and Rick Louthian- fabulous musicians and former IR members (remember guys, “you can check-out any time you like, but you can never leave.”) Photobombing with a prototype jar of the world’s best cider (right Ploughman Ben?) in the bottom right corner is our former percussionist “Old Joe Clark” a.k.a. “Schuylkill Joe”. This was taken from the “infamous cider photo” (see below) and that’s all we’re going to say about that. Ask us no questions, we’ll tell you no lies.
THE BLOND AND THE PIPER
Rodney Owens, Brian Colgan, Eileen Colgan
Every March in Harrisburg town
There is a parade of great renown
Honoring dear St. Patrick
The Star in old Erin’s Crown
All process in glorious form
For on this day it is the norm
After the bands and speeches are no more
All agree...
It’s the blond and the piper they wish to see
Anticipation runs heavy in every pour
People spill out from every pub door
With a wave and a smile, a signal to be sure
The blond bid the piper play more
The pipes did hum the tunes did come
‘Twas magic that couldn’t be overcome
For the same, you see come again next year
When the blond and the piper reappear
LORE **********************************************************************************************************
Of course there’s a story behind this one, but you’ll have to ask Rodney as he is The Piper, but keep in mind that he can tell you, but he might have to kill you...just sayin’.
THE RATTLIN’ BOG
Traditional
Oh ho the rattlin’ bog, the bog down in the valley-o
rare bog, the rattlin’ bog, the bog down in the valley-o
And in that bog there was a hole, a rare hole, a rattlin’ hole with a hole in the bog
and the bog down in the valley-o
And in that hole there was a tree, a rare tree a rattlin’ tree
with the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog
and the bog down in the valley-o
And on that tree there was a branch, a rare branch, a rattlin’ branch
with the branch on the tree and the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog
and the bog down in the valley-o
And on that branch there was a limb, a rare limb, a rattlin’ limb
with the limb on the branch and the branch on the tree and the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog
and the bog down in the valley-o
And on that limb there was a twig, a rare twig, a rattlin’ twig
with the twig on the limb and the limb on the branch and the branch on the tree
and the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog
and the bog down in the valley-o
And on that twig there was a nest, a rare nest, a rattlin’ nest
with a nest on the twig and the twig on the limb and the limb on the branch and the branch on the tree
and the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog
and the bog down in the valley-o
And in that nest there was a bird, a rare bird, a rattlin’ bird
with the bird in the nest and the nest on the twig and the twig on the limb and the limb on the branch
and the branch on the tree and the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog
and the bog down in the valley-o
And in that bird there was an egg, a rare egg, a rattlin’ egg
with the egg in the bird and the bird in the nest and the nest on the twig and the twig on the limb
and the limb on the branch and the branch on the tree and the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog
and the bog down in the valley-o
And in that egg there was a bird, a rare bird, a rattlin’ bird
withe the bird in the egg and the egg in the bird and the bird in the nest
and the nest on the twig and the twig on the limb and the limb on the branch
and the branch on the tree and the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog
and the bog down in the valley-o
And on that bird, there was a feather, a rare feather, a rattlin’ feather
with the feather on the bird and the bird in the egg and the egg in the bird and the bird in the nest
and the nest on the twig and the twig on the limb and the limb on the branch and the branch on the tree
and the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog
and the bog down in the valley-o
And on that feather there was a flea, a rare flea, a rattlin’ flea
with the flea on the feather and the feather on the bird and the bird in the egg and the egg in the bird
and the bird in the nest and the nest on the twig and the twig on the limb and the limb on the branch
and the branch on the tree and the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog
and the bog down in the valley-o
And on that flea there was a louse, a rare louse, a rattlin’ louse
with the louse on the flea and the flea on the feather and the feather on the bird and the bird in the egg and the egg in the bird and the bird in the nest and the nest on the twig and the twig on the limb and the limb
on the branch and the branch on the tree and the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog
and the bog down in the valley-o
And on that louse there was an eye, a rare eye, a rattlin’ eye
with the eye on the louse and the louse on the flea and the flea on the feather and the feather on the bird and
the bird in the egg and the egg in the bird and the bird in the nest and the nest on the twig and the twig on the limb and the limb on the branch and the branch on the tree and the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog
and the bog down in the valley-o
And in that eye, there was a parasite, a rare parasite, a rattlin’ parasite
with the parasite in the eye and the eye on the louse and the louse on the flea and the flea on the feather
and the feather on the bird and the bird in the egg and the egg in the bird and the bird in the nest and the nest
on the twig and the twig on the limb and the limb on the branch and the branch on the tree and the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog
and the bog down in the valley-o
LORE **********************************************************************************************************
Whew! There’s a reason the young guy sings this!
RAKES OF MALLOW / GARYOWEN / IRISH WASHERWOMAN
Traditional
ROCKY ROAD TO DUBLIN
Traditional
While in the merry month of May, from me home I started
Left the girls of Tuam nearly broken hearted
Saluted father dear, kissed me darling mother
Drank a pint of beer, me grief and tears to smother
Then off to reap the corn, leave where I was born
Cut a stout black thorn to banish ghosts and goblins
A brand new pair of brogues to rattle o'er the bogs
And fright'ning all the dogs on the rocky road to Dublin
One, two, three, four, five,
Hunt the Hare and turn her down the rocky road
All the way to Dublin, whack follol de rah
In Mullingar that night I rested limbs so weary
Started by daylight next morning blithe and early
Took a drop of the pure to keep me heart from sinking
That's the Paddy's cure whenever he's up for drinking
See the lassies smile, laughing all the while
At me curious style, 'twould set your heart a bubblin'
Asked me was I hired, wages I required
I was almost tired of the rocky road to Dublin
In Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pity
To be soon deprived a view of that fine city
So then I took a stroll, all among the quality
Me bundle it was stole, all in a neat locality
Something crossed me mind, when I looked behind
No bundle could I find upon me stick a wobblin'
Inquiring for the rogue, they said me Connaught brogue
Wasn't much in vogue on the rocky road to Dublin
From there I got away, me spirits never failing
Landed on the quay, just as the ship was sailing
Captain at me roared, said that no room had he
When I jumped aboard, a cabin found for Paddy
Down among the pigs, played some hearty rigs
Danced some hearty jigs, the water round me bubbling
When off Holyhead, I wished meself was dead
Or better for instead on the rocky road to Dublin
The boys of Liverpool, when we safely landed
Called meself a fool, I could no longer stand it
Blood began to boil, temper I was losing
Poor old Erin's Isle they began abusing
"Hurrah me soul" says I, me Shillelagh I let fly
Some Galway boys were nigh and saw I was a hobble in
With a load "Hurray" joined in the affray
Quickly cleared the way for the rocky road to Dublin
THE BROAD BLACK BRIMMER OF THE IRA
A. McMillan
There's a uniform still hanging in what's known as father's room
A uniform so simple in its style
It has no fancy braid of gold, no hat with feathered plume
Yet me mother has preserved it all the while
One day she made me try it on, a wish of mine for years
In memory of your father Sean she said
And when I put the Sam Browne on
She was smiling through her tears
As she placed the broad black brimmer on me head
[Chorus]
It's just a broad black brimmer
With ribbons frayed and torn from the
Careless whisk of many a mountain breeze
An old trench coat that's so battle-stained and worn
And breeches almost threadbare at the knees
A Sam Browne belt with a buckle big and strong
And a holster that's been empty many's a day
But when men claim Ireland's freedom
The one should choose to lead them
Will wear the broad black brimmer of the IRA
It was the uniform worn by me father year's ago
When he reached me mother's homestead on the run
It was the uniform he wore in that little church below
When oul Father Mac, he blessed the pair as one
And after truce and treaty and the parting of the ways
He wore it when he marched out with the rest
And when they bore his body down on that rugged heather braes
They placed the broad black brimmer on his chest
THAT’S HOW IT STARTS
Ben Wenk, Rodney Owens, Brian Colgan, Eileen Colgan, Denny Seitz
Well a wily pack of Roadies has descended on your town
On corned-beef tour we beg for more
with beers to wash ‘em down
We come in like a lion and go out on the lam
our March Madness is always more than a flash in the pan
That’s how it starts, that’s how it starts
Life’s a fish in the loch, it swims and it darts
We don’t need a ‘Salmon of Wisdom’ if we play it from our hearts
‘cause that’s how it starts
In my “Hour of Recollection” it’s downhill quick without a doubt
I drank by Guiness spilled my Harp and now I’m all stressed-out
I’m bailing with the shoebox - to “Drive The Cold Winter Away”
The cowfest gig and the cornflake crowd at the “Dawning of the Day”
Don’t stress me out I’m lost and running late to make it to the show
and no one hits the buffet line quite like Schuylkill Joe
Poobah’s heart is swelling, throbbing
laughing to the point of sobbing
I’m told I resemble that remark, that remark
“That’s how it starts”...
LORE **********************************************************************************************************
Not even sure where to start here...this song is a compilation of experiences and memorable band member one-liners, mostly inside jokes. but to share a few -“I’m bailing” was from a bass player who could have gone for beers between notes when a novice musician sat in on a song. We occasionally use it when we don’t want to play something, much to our bandleader’s chagrin. The “Salmon of Wisdom” is an Irish legend we included in the original song “North-a-Ways.” The Salmon of Wisdom knows all, but confesses nothing. The “Cowfest Gig” had more bovine than human attendees, the “Cornflake Crowd” was from our very first festival-it was too early even for cornflakes. We were not the headliners. Thanks to Sally for “the Shoebox.” Apparently one cannot be openly carting around bottles of fine whiskey-even for medicinal purposes, which is all we use it for...and yes, mostly because someone else might want some. Last but not least, four dry, quiet words from Rodney Owens turned a solemn moment into band hysteria. Ever try not to laugh on stage, when everyone else in the auditorium has the good sense to be circumspect? That’s how it starts, indeed.
THE GALWAY SHAWL
-
D.O’Donnell
At Oranmore in the County Galway,
One pleasant evening in the month of May,
I spied a damsel, she was young and handsome
Her beauty fairly took my breath away.
We kept on walking, she kept on talking,
'Till her father's cottage came into view.
Says she, "Come in, sir, and meet my father,
And play to please him a tune or two."
She wore no jewels, nor costly diamonds,
No paint or powder, no, none at all.
But she wore a bonnet with a ribbon on it
And round her shoulder was a Galway Shawl.
She sat me down beside the fire
I could see her father, he was six feet tall.
And soon her mother had the kettle singing
All I could think of was the Galway shawl.
I played The Blackbird and The Stack of Barley
Rodney's Glory and The Foggy Dew
She sang each note like an Irish linnet.
Whilst the tears stood in her eyes of blue.
'Twas early, early, all in the morning,
When I hit the road for old Donegal.
She said goodbye, sir, she cried and kissed me,
And my heart remained with that Galway shawl.
OUR LAD DAN
Jesse Colgan, Brian Colgan
He’s a rake, he’s a busker and a dawn to dusker
He’s a rambler and a rover ‘cross the land
He’s a fightin’ two fister so you’d better call him Mister
He’s a blister is our lad Dan
He’s a blatherin’ scythe with a tongue like a knife
with a word he can cut you down to size
He’s so full of blarney like a travelin’ carney
Pied Piper with his smilin’ eyes
Our Dan he’s a man with his heart in his hand
and he’ll give you the shirt off his back
But he’d rather make you swoon with a lilting tune
and a generous helping of craic
Our lad Dan (derry ah ‘n’ doodle lee)
He’s a proud Irish man (doodley ah ‘n’ doodle loo)
Our Dan (doodley ah ‘n’ doodle lee)
Ain’t he gran’? (doodley ah ‘n’ doodle loo)
Our lad Dan!
He’s a rake, he’s a busker and a dawn to dusker
He’s a rambler and a rover ‘cross the land
He’s a fightin’ two fister so you’d better call him Mister
He’s a blister is our lad Dan
He’s a blatherin’ scythe with a tongue like a knife
with a word he can cut you down to size
He’s so full of blarney like a travelin’ carney
Pied Piper with his smilin’ eyes
Our Dan he’s a man with his heart in his hand
and he’ll give you the shirt off his back
But he’d rather make you swoon with a lilting tune
and a generous helping of craic
Our lad Dan (derry ah ‘n’ doodle lee)
He’s a proud Irish man (doodley ah ‘n’ doodle loo)
Our Dan (doodley ah ‘n’ doodle lee)
Ain’t he gran’? (doodley ah ‘n’ doodle loo)
Our lad Dan!
LORE **********************************************************************************************************
Dedicated to all the Dans we know, and we know a lot of Dans (Dad, brother, nephews, grandsons, friends)
O’KEEFE’S SLIDE / KERRY DANCE / MICHAEL’S FAREWELL TO GLASGOW
Traditional / J.L. Malloy / Henry Cohen
LORE **********************************************************************************************************
Thanks to the Colgan’s brother-in-law/uncle Henry Cohen for “Michael’s Farewell to Glasgow” commemorating his late nephew Michael Niedererr’s time in Scotland.
IRISH BLESSING
-
R.Fabing, SJ (from St. Patrick’s Breastplate)
May the road rise up to meet you
May the wind be always with you
May the sunshine warm you always
‘til we meet again
May the rain fall softly on you
May the hand of God uphold you
Christ before you, Christ behind you
Christ beneath you, Christ above you
Christ to shield you, Christ be with you
Christ be with you now and always
Christ in every eye that sees you
Christ in every ear that hears you
Christ in every heart that knows you
Christ in every word that speaks of you
Christ is on your left, Christ on your right
Christ when you lie down and rise up
ON THE ONE ROAD
-
F.O’Donovan
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 may be the wrong road
But we're together now who cares?
Northmen, Southmen, comrades all!
Dublin, Belfast, Cork or Donegal!
We're on the one road, swinging along
Singin' a soldier's song!
Though we've had our troubles now and then
Now's the time to make them up again
Sure aren't we all Irish anyhow?
Now is the time to step together now
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 may be the wrong road
But we're together now who cares?
Northmen, Southmen, comrades all!
Dublin, Belfast, Cork or Donegal!
We're on the one road, swinging along
Singin' a soldier's song!
Tinker, tailor - every mother's son
Butcher, baker - shouldering his gun
Rich man, poor man - every man in line
All together, just like Auld Lang Syne!
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 may be the wrong road
But we're together now who cares?
Northmen, Southmen, comrades all!
Dublin, Belfast, Cork or Donegal!
We're on the one road, swinging along
Singin' a soldier's song!
Night is darkness just before the dawn
From dissensions, Ireland is reborn
Soon, will all United Irishmen
Make our land a Nation Once Again!
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 may be the wrong road
But we're together now who cares?
Northmen, Southmen, comrades all!
Dublin, Belfast, Cork or Donegal!
We're on the one road, swinging along
Singin' a soldier's song!
