Dear Old Charleville

You have asked that I should sing a song and
to please you I will try I will sing to you about a town whos name will never die,
although 3000 miles away my heart it still lays there,
its a town I well and truly love,its a town called Charleville

When back by lovely Fortlands we oft times used to stroll,
The boys and girls together to the dear old parsol,
We would pack our pockets up with crabs until each one had his fill,
Oh they tasted sweet in the good old days in dear old Charleville.

And back by dear old Stephens Glen we oft times used to stray
We would roll each other down the banks to while away the day
Those memories ever haunt my dreams,forget I never will,
The boys and girls,friends of my youth, in dear old Charleville

Farewell to Touberneena, I would love to see once more
And drink again from its crystal stream as I did in days of yore
Then heres a health to you dear town let tomorrow bring what will
We will toast the friends we left behind in dear old Charleville

Farewell to you dear Charleville, to your turrest and Main Street
Likewise Smiths lane and Bakers Lane where all true lovers meet
To Saunders park, The New line and the walk down by the Mill
Where my young days- those happy days were spent in Charleville

Heres a health to those who wish us well and to those who are far away
The friends we love, some lie at rest neath Ballysally Clay
Then heres to those we hope to meet, to them your glasses fill
In hope well all return again to Dear Old Charleville

STAN' UP AN' FIGHT

Thanks a lot! I'm sure glad to be,To be where I c'n seeSo many friends o' mine.How've I been doin'? How've I been doin'?If you really wanta know de truth,I'm doin' fine!Seventeen decisions in a row,An' only five on points; de res' was all K.O.Jackson an' Johnson, Murphy an' Bronson,One by one dey come,An' one by one to dreamland dey go.How's it done? You ask me, how's it done?I got a trainer man who taught me all I know.Sure feels good to have him in my corner,Hear his voice a-whisp'rin' low:"Big boy, remember, you mus' remember...

Stan' up an' fight until you hear de bell,
Stan' toe to toe, trade blow fer blow,
Keep punchin' till you make yer punches tell,
Show dat crowd watcher know!
Until you hear dat bell, dat final bell,
Stan' up an' fight like hell!"

When you fight out in de open air,In a patch o' light de ring looks small an' white.Out in de blackness, out in de blackness,You c'n feel a hun'erd thousan' eyesFillin' de night.Cigarettes are blinkin' in de dark,An' makin' polka dots aroun' de baseball park,People are quiet den dere's a riot!
Someone t'rows a punchAn' plants it right smack on de mark...Someone's hurt, you kinda think it's you.You hang across de ropes
Da's all you want to do.Den you look aroun' an' see your trainer's eyes,Beggin' you to see it through,Dey say, "Remember, big Boy, remember

Stan' up an' fight until you hear de bell,
Stan' toe to toe, trade blow fer blow,
Keep punchin' till you make yer punches tell,
Show dat crowd watcher know!
Until you hear dat bell, dat final bell,
Stan, up an' fight like hell!"

The Bank of my Own Lovely Lee

How oft do my thoughts in their fancy take flight
To the home of my childhood away,
To the days when each patriot's vision seem'd bright
Ere I dreamed that those joys should decay.
When my heart was as light as the wild winds that blow
Down the Mardyke through each elm tree,
Where I sported and play'd 'neath each green leafy shade
On the banks of my own lovely Lee.

And then in the springtime of laughter and song
Can I ever forget the sweet hours?
With the friends of my youth as we rambled along
'Mongst the green mossy banks and wild flowers.
Then too, when the evening sun's sinking to rest
Sheds its golden light over the sea
The maid with her lover the wild daisies pressed
On the banks of my own lovely Lee
The maid with her lover the wild daisies pressed
On the banks of my own lovely Lee

'Tis a beautiful land this dear isle of song
Its gems shed their light to the world
And her faithful sons bore thro' ages of wrong,
The standard St. Patrick unfurled.
Oh! would I were there with the friends I love best
And my fond bosom's partner with me
We'd roam thy banks over, and when weary we'd rest
By thy waters, my own lovely Lee,
We'd roam thy banks over, and when weary we'd rest
By thy waters, my own lovely Lee,

Oh what joys should be mine ere this life should decline
To seek shells on thy sea-girdled shore.
While the steel-feathered eagle, oft splashing the brine
Brings longing for freedom once more.
Oh all that on earth I wish for or crave
Is that my last crimson drop be for thee,
To moisten the grass of my forefathers' grave
On the banks of my own lovely Lee
To moisten the grass of my forefathers' grave
On the banks of my own lovely Lee.

BEAUTIFUL CITY

I have sought to discover a haven of rest
Where the sun sinks by night in the land of the West
I have dwelt with the red man in green forest bowers
O'er the wild rolling prairie bespangled with flowers
I have hived to the north, where the hardy pine grows
'Mid the wolf and the bear, and the bleak winter snows
I have roamed through all climates, but none could I see
Like the green hills of Cork and my home by the Lee

CHORUS
Beautiful city, charming and pretty
Beautiful city, my home by the Lee

I have slumbered in palm groves by clear running streams
And the wild groves of Blarney come haunting my dreams
I have listened to bells on the soft summer wind
But the sweet bells of Shandon were dear to my mind
I have mixed in gay dances my sorrows to hide
But there's none like the maiden that's now by my side
There is nought in the land of the slave or the free
Like the green hills of Cork and my home by the Lee
Chorus

The bold feudal castles look down on the Rhine
That flows through the land of the olive and vine
There is freedom and health in the fresh mountain breeze
That careers round the home of the brave Tyrolese
There is beauty and love in all spots of the earth
To the heart that can call it the land of its birth
But of all the fair countries, the dearest to me
Are the green hills of Cork and my home by the Lee

There is an Isle'
There is an Isle
A bonnie Isle
Stands proudly from
Stands proudly from the sea
And dearer far than all this world
Is that dear Isle
Is that dear Isle to me
It is not that alone it stands
Where all around is fresh and fair
But because, it is my native land
And my home, my home is there
But because, it is my native land
And my home, my home is there

Farewell, farewell
Though lands may meet
May meet my gaze
My gaze where e're I roam
I shall not find
A spot so fair
As that dear Isle
As that dear Isle to me
It is not that alone it stands
Where all around is fresh and fair
But because, it is my native land
And my home, my home is there
But because, it is my native land
And my home, my home is there

Ireland's Call

Come the day and come the hour
Come the power and the glory
We have come to answer
Our Country's call
From the four proud provinces of Ireland

Ireland, Ireland
Together standing tall
Shoulder to shoulder
We'll answer Ireland's call

From the mighty Glens of Antrim
From the rugged hills of Galway
From the walls of Limerick
And Dublin Bay
From the four proud provinces of Ireland

Ireland, Ireland
Together standing tall
Shoulder to shoulder
We'll answer Ireland's call

Hearts of steel
And heads unbowing
Vowing never to be broken
We will fight, until
We can fight no more
From the four proud provinces of Ireland

Ireland, Ireland
Together standing tall
Shoulder to shoulder
We'll answer Ireland's call

SKIBBEREEN

Oh, father dear, I oft-times hear your talk of Erin's Isle.
Her lofty scene and valley green, her mountains rude and wild.
Thery say it is a pretty place wherein a prince might dwell
Then why did you abandon it? The reason to me tell.

My son, I loved our native land with energy and pride,
Until a blight came o'er my crops, my sheep and cattle died.
The rent and taxes were to pay, I could not them redeem,
And that's the cruel reason why I left old Skibbereen.

It's well I do remember that bleak December day,
The landlord and the sheriff came to drive us all away,
They set my roof on fire with their cursed English spleen,
And that's another reason why I left old Skibbereen.

Your mother too, God rest her soul fell on the snowy ground
She fainted in her anguish seeing the desolation all around
She never rose but passed away to life's imortal dream
And that's another reason why I left old Skibbereen

And you were only two years old and feeble was your frame
I could not leave you with my friends, you bore your father's name
I wrapped you in my cóta mór in the dead of night unseen
I heaved a sigh and said goodbye to dear old Skibbereen

Oh, father dear, the day will come when vengeance loud will call.
When Irish men for freedome's sake, will rally one and all,
I'll be the man to lead the van beneath our flag of green,
And loud and high we'll raise the cry: 'Revenge for Skibbereen!'