[actual lyrics] Oh, list to the lay of a poor Irish harper And scorn not the strings of his withered old hand Remember his fingers they once could move sharper To raise up the memory of his dear native land When I was a young lad, King Jamie did flourish And I followed the wars in my brogues bound with straw And all the fair colleens from Wexford to Durrish Called me bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh How I love for to muse on the days of my boyhood Though four score and three years have flitted since then Still it gives sweet reflections, as every young joy should For light hearted boys make the best of old men At pattern or fair I could twist me shillelagh Or trip through the jig with my brogues bound with straw Whilst all the pretty maidens around me assembled Loving bold Phelim Brady the Bard of Armagh Although I have travelled this wide world over Ole Erin's a home and a parent to me Then, oh, let the ground that my old bones shall cover Be cut from the soil that is trod by the free And when Sergeant Death in his cold arms embrace me Oh, lull me to sleep with "Erin Go Bragh" By the side of my Kathleen, my young wife oh place me Then forget Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh
Missing a verse: Twas long before the shamrock, the dear isle's loved emblem, was crushed in its beauty by the Saxon lion's paw, I was called by the colleens around me assembling, the bould Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh.
The Bard of Armagh was Patrick Donnelly aka Phelim Brady who disguised himself as a wandering minstrel who played a harp. A real cowboy named Francis Henry Maynard copyrighted his revised version in 1876 of the widely known song which was The Streets of Laredo. In 1927 a Brunswick recording by Ewen Hail has on the song label Cowboys Lament (The Cowboy Minstrel). Ken Maynard the pioneer of the Hollywood singing Cowboys has the song credited as "The Cowboys Lament". The film The Wagon Master (1929).was simultaneously released in both silent and sound versions. A archival holding of a incomplete copy of the silent version of the film is held in the Dutch film archive in Amsterdam. The sound version is still on the missing list.
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
Oh list' to the tale of a poor Irish harper And scorn not the string of his old withered hands But remember those fingers they once could move sharper To raise up the strains of his dear native land. It was long before the shamrock, dear isle's lovely emblem Was crushed in its beauty by the Saxon's lion paw And all the pretty colleens around me would gather Call me their bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh. How I love to muse on the days of my boyhood Though four score and three years have fled by them It's king's sweet reflection that every young joy For the merry-hearted boys make the best of old men. At a fair or a wake I would twist my shillelah And trip through a dance with my brogues tied with straw There all the pretty maidens around me would gather Call me their bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh. In truth I have wandered this wide world over Yet Ireland's my home and a dwelling for me And, oh, let the turf that my old bones shall cover Be cut from the land that is trod by the free. And when Sergeant Death in his cold arms doth embrace And lull me to sleep with old Erin go bragh By the side of my Kathleen, my dear pride, oh place me Then forget Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh
I once heard a recording of an old song from Ulster which included a refrain something like: "So beat the drums slowly and play the pipes lowly" I can remember no more but that too was sung to the tune of 'The Bard of Armagh', 'The Old Homing Waltz' and 'The Streets of Laredo'.
Magical version of one of Ulster's grandest folk songs. In the USA it has been reborn as 'The Streets of Laredo' and as 'The Old Homing Waltz'. Imitation, they say, is the sincerest form of flattery!
I just learned that the tune of this song was also reborn in Ireland as The Unfortunate Rake. Then it went to Streets of Laredo, St. James Infirmary, and a bunch of others. This song has been redone so many times! :)
At pattern or fair I could twist my shillelagh Many many years ago when I was young there was a "pattern" day, once a year. That was in Kerry, my home county. And now I know that the word pattern comes from the Irish word "patrún" a patron saint.
¡Ya somos dos! 😀😀😀. Yo tampoco he podido evitar ir a comprobar cómo suena la balada que silba María Viana 😀😀😀. Por cierto, Javier Marías, el mejor novelista español actual.
@@enal5099 😁😁 así es escribe muy lindo , tengo en la mesa de luz Berta Isla. Y la novela que me cambió mi forma de pensar fué "Tu rostro mañana" , fundamental para mí, por cierto ¿ De donde sos ?
@@marioandres1006 soy español, concretamente de Madrid, como Marías. “Tu rostro mañana”, con sus tres densos volúmenes, es una maravilla, quizás la obra cumbre de nuestro escritor. De “Todas las almas” en adelante, en donde aparece ya un personaje capital en algunas de las restantes (Peter Wheeler), todas las novelas son estupendas. Quizás hubieras debido leer “Berta Isla” antes de “Tomás Nevinson”, pero la disfrutarás igualmente. Un saludo cordial.
Por cierto, a Marías se le perdona todo como novelista, incluso sus sarcásticos e injustos comentarios sobre mi equipo favorito, el Atlético de Madrid. Él es del otro equipo importante de la capital, ese que juega vestido de blanco y de cuyo nombre no quiero acordarme… 😀
My grandfather used to sing this song, he died in 2014 at the ripe old age of 96, we had this song performed live at his funeral.
God Bless Him !
Always made me cry. Don't know why. 😢
[actual lyrics]
Oh, list to the lay of a poor Irish harper
And scorn not the strings of his withered old hand
Remember his fingers they once could move sharper
To raise up the memory of his dear native land
When I was a young lad, King Jamie did flourish
And I followed the wars in my brogues bound with straw
And all the fair colleens from Wexford to Durrish
Called me bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh
How I love for to muse on the days of my boyhood
Though four score and three years have flitted since then
Still it gives sweet reflections, as every young joy should
For light hearted boys make the best of old men
At pattern or fair I could twist me shillelagh
Or trip through the jig with my brogues bound with straw
Whilst all the pretty maidens around me assembled
Loving bold Phelim Brady the Bard of Armagh
Although I have travelled this wide world over
Ole Erin's a home and a parent to me
Then, oh, let the ground that my old bones shall cover
Be cut from the soil that is trod by the free
And when Sergeant Death in his cold arms embrace me
Oh, lull me to sleep with "Erin Go Bragh"
By the side of my Kathleen, my young wife oh place me
Then forget Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh
How I *love* for to muse on the days of my boyhood
Thank you for the lyrics my friend.
Missing a verse: Twas long before the shamrock, the dear isle's loved emblem, was crushed in its beauty by the Saxon lion's paw, I was called by the colleens around me assembling, the bould Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh.
When I sing it, I use "bride" instead of "wife" for some obscure reason I do not understand. Of course, I do not sing it where anyone can hear me.
Beautiful.
Great song
Beautiful and touching! Five star preformance!
Glad to listen to this now and again
Love it
This is just beautiful , so glad I found it but sorry it took me so long.
Just lovely. I heard a hint of this song a couple of days ago when Seamas Mallon was being laid to rest. So appropriate.
The Bard of Armagh was Patrick Donnelly aka Phelim Brady who disguised himself as a wandering minstrel who played a harp. A real cowboy named Francis Henry Maynard copyrighted his revised version in 1876 of the widely known song which was The Streets of Laredo. In 1927 a Brunswick recording by Ewen Hail has on the song label Cowboys Lament (The Cowboy Minstrel). Ken Maynard the pioneer of the Hollywood singing Cowboys has the song credited as "The Cowboys Lament". The film The Wagon Master (1929).was simultaneously released in both silent and sound versions. A archival holding of a incomplete copy of the silent version of the film is held in the Dutch film archive in Amsterdam. The sound version is still on the missing list.
Was "The Wagon Master" later remade as "Wagon Master" by John Ford and starring Ben Johnson?
There also a Francis Henry Maynard born in 1542 in England.
Yup I first heard this in a medley with Streets of Laredo
This is the original and older..
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
Oh list' to the tale of a poor Irish harper
And scorn not the string of his old withered hands
But remember those fingers they once could move sharper
To raise up the strains of his dear native land.
It was long before the shamrock, dear isle's lovely emblem
Was crushed in its beauty by the Saxon's lion paw
And all the pretty colleens around me would gather
Call me their bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh.
How I love to muse on the days of my boyhood
Though four score and three years have fled by them
It's king's sweet reflection that every young joy
For the merry-hearted boys make the best of old men.
At a fair or a wake I would twist my shillelah
And trip through a dance with my brogues tied with straw
There all the pretty maidens around me would gather
Call me their bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh.
In truth I have wandered this wide world over
Yet Ireland's my home and a dwelling for me
And, oh, let the turf that my old bones shall cover
Be cut from the land that is trod by the free.
And when Sergeant Death in his cold arms doth embrace
And lull me to sleep with old Erin go bragh
By the side of my Kathleen, my dear pride, oh place me
Then forget Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh
JOCK STEWART-REDMOND Thank you very much good sir
I once heard a recording of an old song from Ulster which included a refrain something like: "So beat the drums slowly and play the pipes lowly" I can remember no more but that too was sung to the tune of 'The Bard of Armagh', 'The Old Homing Waltz' and 'The Streets of Laredo'.
i think the song you're looking for is called, the green fields of France
This phrase is also in the American derivative of this tune, "St. James Hospital."
Magical version of one of Ulster's grandest folk songs. In the USA it has been reborn as 'The Streets of Laredo' and as 'The Old Homing Waltz'.
Imitation, they say, is the sincerest form of flattery!
I just learned that the tune of this song was also reborn in Ireland as The Unfortunate Rake. Then it went to Streets of Laredo, St. James Infirmary, and a bunch of others. This song has been redone so many times! :)
@@rebeccasherrod4966 This song's melody has been recognized to be around 4000 years old by musicologists.
@@jurikurthambarskjelfir3533
Four thousand?
@@Wotsitorlabart No, i made a mistake. It's actually over 9000!!!
@@jurikurthambarskjelfir3533
I suppose if you are going to spout preposterous nonsense then do so with conviction.
Very nice
Beautiful song.
Oh we are list..ening! It's a pleasure!
The Ballad of Buster Scruggs
cash's "streets of laredo,"
brilliant wee lament.
At pattern or fair I could twist my shillelagh
Many many years ago when I was young there was a "pattern" day, once a year. That was in Kerry, my home county. And now I know that the word pattern comes from the Irish word "patrún" a patron saint.
Came here cause of Javier Maria's novel "Tomás Nevinson"
¡Ya somos dos! 😀😀😀. Yo tampoco he podido evitar ir a comprobar cómo suena la balada que silba María Viana 😀😀😀. Por cierto, Javier Marías, el mejor novelista español actual.
@@enal5099 😁😁 así es escribe muy lindo , tengo en la mesa de luz Berta Isla.
Y la novela que me cambió mi forma de pensar fué "Tu rostro mañana" , fundamental para mí, por cierto ¿ De donde sos ?
@@marioandres1006 soy español, concretamente de Madrid, como Marías. “Tu rostro mañana”, con sus tres densos volúmenes, es una maravilla, quizás la obra cumbre de nuestro escritor. De “Todas las almas” en adelante, en donde aparece ya un personaje capital en algunas de las restantes (Peter Wheeler), todas las novelas son estupendas. Quizás hubieras debido leer “Berta Isla” antes de “Tomás Nevinson”, pero la disfrutarás igualmente. Un saludo cordial.
Por cierto, a Marías se le perdona todo como novelista, incluso sus sarcásticos e injustos comentarios sobre mi equipo favorito, el Atlético de Madrid. Él es del otro equipo importante de la capital, ese que juega vestido de blanco y de cuyo nombre no quiero acordarme… 😀
me too
Thanks, very fine! Billy Finnegan is o.k.
Fabuli
very, very nice
well done
The original that became The Streets of Laredo.. Remember the late Johnny Cash saying this on T.V. many years ago.
sad but sweet
Streets of Laredo
I can see by your outfit that you are a cowboy!
No ,street of Laredo has taken the melody of this older song.
Which is the original? The Bard of Armagh or Streets of Lauredo?
Bard of Armagh, from the late middle ages or early modern era
Do you have the version of this song done by Northwind?