Bard of Armagh

Bard of Armagh

Author: traditional (tune Streets of Laredo)

Oh list to the lay of a poor Irish harper
and scorn not the strings of his old withered hands
but remember these fingers could once move more sharper
to waken the echos of his dear native land

It was long before the shamrock our green isle loved emblem
was crushed in its beauty neath the Saxon lion’s paw
it was called by the colleens in village and valley
Bold Phelam O’Brady, the Bard of Armagh

How I long to muse on the days of my boyhood
Though four scores and trhee years have flitted since then
still it gives sweet reflections as every young joy should
that merry hearted boys make the best of ould men

at a pattern or fair I could twist my Shillelagh
or trip through a jig with my brouges bound with straw
whilst all pretty maidens around me assembled
Loved Bold Phelam O’Brady, the Bard of Armagh

Although I have travelled this wide world all over
yet Erin’s my home and a parent to me
Then Oh! Let the ground that my ould bones shall cover
Be cut from the soil that is trod by the free

And when Sergeant Death in his cold arm shall embrace me
to lull me to sleep with sweet Erin Go Bragh
By the side of my Kathleen my young wife oh place me
The forget Bold Phelam O’Brady, the Bard of Armagh


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