Irish Scottish Folk Punk Celtic Rock

THE LARK IN THE MORNING

The lark in the morning she rises off her nest
She goes home in the evening with the dew all on her breast
And like the jolly ploughboy she whistles and she sings
She goes home in the evening with the dew all on her wings

Oh, Roger the ploughboy he is a dashing blade
He goes whistling and singing over yonder leafy shade
He met with pretty Susan, she's handsome I declare
She is far more enticing then the birds all in the air

The lark in the morning she rises off her nest
She goes home in the evening with the dew all on her breast
And like the jolly ploughboy she whistles and she sings
She goes home in the evening with the dew all on her wings

One evening coming home from the rakes of the town
The meadows been all green and the grass had been cut down
As I should chance to tumble all in the new-mown hay
Oh, it's kiss me now or never love, this bonnie lass did say

The lark in the morning she rises off her nest
She goes home in the evening with the dew all on her breast
And like the jolly ploughboy she whistles and she sings
She goes home in the evening with the dew all on her wings

When twenty long weeks they were over and were past
Her mommy chanced to notice how she thickened round the waist - It was the handsome ploughboy, the maiden she did say
For he caused for to tumble all in the new-mown hay

The lark in the morning she rises off her nest
She goes home in the evening with the dew all on her breast
And like the jolly ploughboy she whistles and she sings
She goes home in the evening with the dew all on her wings

Here's a health to y'all ploughboys wherever you may be
That likes to have a bonnie lass a sitting on his knee
With a jug of good strong porter you'll whistle and you'll sing
For a ploughboy is as happy as a prince or a king

The lark in the morning she rises off her nest
She goes home in the evening with the dew all on her breast
And like the jolly ploughboy she whistles and she sings
She goes home in the evening with the dew all on her wings

READY FOR THE STORM


Oh, the waves crash in and the tide pulls out;

It's an angry sea, but there is no doubt,

That the lighthouse will keep shinin' out,

To warn the lonely sailor.

The lightnin' strikes and the wind cuts cold,

Through the sailor's bones to the sailor's soul.

'Til there's nothing left that he can hold,

Except the rolling ocean.


But I am ready for the storm,

Yes, Sir, ready.

I am ready for the storm,

I'm ready for the storm.


Oh, give me mercy for my dreams,

'Cos every confrontation seems,

To tell me what it really means,

To be this lonely sailor.

And when you take me by your side,

You love me warm, you love me.

And I should have realized,

I had no reasons to be frightened.


But I am ready for the storm...


The distance it is no real friend,

And time will take its time.

And you will find that in the end,

It brings you me, the lonely sailor.

And when the sky begins to clear,

The sun, it melts away my fear,

I'll cry a silent, weary tear,

For those that need to love me.


But I am ready for the storm,..


 BONNIE SHIP THE DIAMOND

The Diamond is a ship, my lads
For the Davis Strait we're bound
The quay it is all garnished
With bonnie lasses 'round
Captain Thompson gives the order
To sail the ocean wide
Where the sun it never sets, my lads
Nor darkness dims the sky

For it's cheer up my lads
Let your hearts never fail
For the bonnie ship the Diamond
Goes a-hunting for the whale

Along the quay at Peterhead
The lasses stand aroon
Wi' their shawls all pulled around them
And the saut tears runnin' doon
Don't you weep, my bonnie wee lass
Though you be left behind
For the rose will grow on Greenland's ice
Before we change our mind

Here's a health to the Resolution
Likewise the Eliza Swan
Three cheers for the Battler of Montrose
And the Diamond, ship of fame
We wear the trousers o' the white
The jackets o' the blue
When we get back to Peterhead
We'll hae sweethearts enou'

It will be bright both day and night
When the Greenland lads come hame
Our ship full up with oil, my lads
And money to our name
We'll make the cradles for to rock
And the blankets for to tear
And every lass in Peterhead sing
"Hushabye, my dear"


 LA SENDA DEL TIEMPO

A veces llega un momento en que
te haces viejo de repente,
sin arrugas en la frente
pero con ganas de morir.
Paseando por las calles,
todo tiene igual color.
Siento que algo echo en falta,
no sé si será el amor.

Me despierto por la noches
entre una gran confusión.
Es tal la melancolía,
que está acabando conmigo.
Siento que me vuelvo loco
y me sumerjo en el alcohol.
Las estrellas por la noche
han perdido su esplendor.

He buscado en los desiertos
de la tierra del dolor,
y no he hallado más respuesta
que espejismos de ilusión.
He hablado con las montañas
de la desesperación,
y su respuesta era sólo
el eco sordo de mi voz.

A veces llega un momento en que
te haces viejo de repente,
sin arrugas en la frente
pero con ganas de morir.
Paseando por las calles,
todo tiene igual color.
Siento que algo echo en falta,
no sé si será el amor.