O! My boat can safely float in the teeth of wind and weather And outrace the faster hooker between Galway and Kinsale; When the black floor of the ocean and the white foam rush together High she rides, in her pride, like the seagull through the gale        O! she's neat , oh she's sweet, she's a beauty ev'ry line!        The 'Queen of Connemara' is that bounding bark of mine. When she's loaded down with fish till the water lips the gunwale Not a drop she'll take on board her that would wash a fly away; From the fleet she'll slip out swiftly like a greyhound from her kennel And she's land her silver store the first on old Kinvara quay        O! she's neat , oh she's sweet, she's a beauty ev'ry line!        The 'Queen of Connemara' is that bounding bark of mine. There's a light shine out afar and it keeps us from dismaying, When the skies are ink above us and the sea runs white with foam; In a cot in Connemara, there's a wife and wee one praying To the one who walked the waters once to bring us safely home        O! she's neat , oh she's sweet, she's a beauty ev'ry line!        The 'Queen of Connemara' is that bounding bark of mine. Top Of Page

'Tis far away I am today from scenes I roamed a boy, And long ago the hour I know I first saw Illinois; But time nor tide nor waters wide can wean my heart away, For ever true it flies to you, my dear old Galway Bay. My chosen bride is by my side, her brown hair silver-grey, Her daughter Rose as like her grows as April dawn today. Our only boy, his mother's joy, his father's pride and stay; With gifts like these I'd live at ease, were I near Galway Bay. O ! grey and bleak, by shore and creek, the rugged rocks abound, But sweet and green the grass between, as grows on Irish ground, So friendship fond, all wealth beyond, and love that lives alway, Bless each poor home beside your foam, my dear old Galway Bay. Had I youth's blood and hopeful mood and heart of fire once more, For all the gold the world might hold I'd never quit your shore, I'd live content whate'er God sent with neighbours old and gray, And lay my bones, 'neath churchyard stones, beside you, Galway Bay. The blessing of a poor old man be with you night and day, The blessing of a lonely man whose heart will soon be clay; 'Tis all the Heaven I'll ask of God upon my dying day, My soul to soar for ever more above you, Galway Bay. To hear a Real Audio stream of Dolores Keane singing "Galway Bay", Click Here. Top Of Page

Not far from old Kinvara, in the merry month of May, When birds were singing cheerily, there came across my way, As if from out the sky above an angel chanced to fall, A little Irish cailín in an ould plaid shawl. She tripped along right joyously, a basket on her arm; And, O ! her face, and, O ! her grace, the soul of saint would charm; Her brown hair rippled o'er her brow, but greatest charm of all Was her modest blue eyes beaming 'neath her ould plaid shawl. I courteously saluted her -" God save you, miss, says I; "God save you. kindly, sir," said she, and shyly passed me by; Off went my heart along with her, a captive in her thrall, Imprisoned in the corner of the ould plaid shawl. Enchanted with her beauty rare, I gazed in pure delight, Till round an angle of the road she vanished from my sight; But ever since I sighing say, as I that scene recall, "The grace of God about you and your ould plaid shawl." They may talk of highway robbers that, with pistols and with knives, Make trembling travellers yield them up their money or their lives, But think of me that handed out my heart and head and all To a simple little cailín in an ould plaid shawl ! O! graceful the mantillas that the signorinas wear, And tasteful are the bonnets of Parisian ladies fair, But never cloak, or hood, or robe, in palace, bow'r, or hall Clad half such witching beauty as that ould plaid shawl. O! some men sigh for riches, and some men live for fame, And some on history's pages hope to win a glorious name; My aims are not ambitious, and my wishes are but small - You might wrap them all together in an ould plaid shawl. I'll seek her all through Galway, and I'll seek her all through Clare, I'll search for tale or tidings of my traveller everywhere, For peace of mind I'll never find until my own I call That little Irish cailín in an her plaid shawl. Top Of Page

Here comes Dan, The merry old man, With fiddle in hand To rouse us all. Girls and boys, Have done with your noise, And gather in joy From the houses all. And off we'll go, So merrily O ! With heel and toe, And toe and heel. O! where is the dance, From here to France, Can hearts entrance Like an Irish reel ? Side by side We slip and we slide, We glance and we glide, A sight to see. Then round and round We airily bound, Just skimming the ground With footfall free. As off we go, etc. Mary, a stór, Your spinning give o'er, Step out on the floor And shame them soon As under your feet You put so neat Each note so sweet That makes the tune. As off we go, etc. Mary, a stór, We'll trip it no more, But sit by the door In the corner here; I have something to say That cannot delay Till dawning of day For your answer, dear! While off they go, etc. Top Of Page

O, who is this that softly lies, At my heart's door with drowsy eyes While shadows o'er the sunset skies Steal silently and soon O Husheen, husho, Hush and lul-a-lo, Husheen, husho, Hush go ciúin go ló. It is my treasure noon and night, It is my heart's love at first sight, O ! joy, to kiss that check so light, And to my darling croon O Husheen, husho, Hush and lul-a-lo, Husheen, husho, Hush go ciúin go ló. And now the dusky night creeps down, O'er sleepy stream, and heather brown, While high above the dreamy town There floats the silver moon O Husheen, husho, Hush and lul-a-lo, Husheen, husho, Hush go ciúin go ló. Top Of Page

I'm weary and sick of the sights of the town Though haughty its mansions and high its renown O! if some good fairy would but set me down On an Old Irish hill in the morning! My soul ever sighs for a sight of the sea By dear old Kinvara, or down by Kilkee, Or where Moher cliffs in their majesty free Fling back ocean billows scorning. An old Irish hill where the crag is so steep The air is so sweet, and the heather so deep - O! gladly I'd labour, and soundly I'd sleep On an Old Irish hill in the morning! These Saxons are hard, and their senses are cold And all that they care for, or think of, is gold What will cover their back, or their stomachs will hold, Or what their shrunk shanks is adorning. I miss the glad look and the grip of the hand, The heart on the lips, and the welcome so bland, The céad míle fáilte, and best in the land, On an Old Irish hill in the morning. An old Irish hill where the torrents that leap Are types of the hearts that a vigil there keep - O light be their labour, and sound be their sleep On an Old Irish hill in the morning! Some day when the summer clouds swim in the sky, I'll bid the stiff Saxon a merry goodbye, And blithe over ocean and land I will fly, To the green pleasant land I was born in; I'll give the go-by to all sorrow and strife, I'll take from the valley a rosy-cheeked wife And cheerily live for the rest of my life, On an Old Irish hill in the morning. An Old Irish hill where the dreamy mists creep A cabin of love 'mid the heather to peep - O! gladly I'd labour, and soundly I'd sleep On an Old Irish hill in the morning! But if the day came for the bold mountaineer To strike for the hearths and the homes we love dear, And ringing on high on the startled air clear, The blast of the bugle gave warning - O! where could our boys make a sturdier stand, To strike a stout blow for the cause of our land, Than massed in their might on the sides green and grand Of an Old Irish hill in the morning! From an old Irish hill - O! like eagles we'd sweep, And chase the false foe through the vallery like sheep - O! a harvest of hope for our Erin we'd reap, On an old Irish hill in the morning! Top Of Page