Christy Moore

"Little Mother"

"Little Mother"


Hey, Little Mother, what's in your bag?
Chocolates and sweets

Hey, Mr. Postman, what's in your bag?
A note from your beloved

Hey, Mr. Tailor, what's in your bag?
The finest wedding dress

Hey, Mr. Harvester, what's in your bag?
Solitude and death

"Little Musgrave"

"Little Musgrave"


It fell upon a holy day as many's in the year
Musgrave to the church did go to see fine ladies there
And some were dressed in velvet red and some in velvet pale
Then in came Lord Barnard's wife the fairest among them all
She cast an eye on little Musgrave as bright as the Summer's sun
Said Musgrave unto himself this Lady's heart I've won
I have loved you Fair Lady, full long and many's the day
And I have loved you little Musgrave and never a word did say
I have a bower in Bucklesfordberry, its my heart's delight
I'll take you back there with me if you lie in your arms all night
But standing by was a little footpage from the Lady's coach he ran
Although I am a Lady's page, I am Lord Barnard's man
My Lord Barnard shall hear of this whether I sink or swim
Every where the bridge was broken he'd enter the water and swim
My Lord Barnard, my Lord Barnard, you are a man of life
But Musgrave is at Bucklesfordberry asleep with your wedded wife
If this be true, my little footpage, this thing that you tell me
All the gold in Bucklesfordberry I gladly will give to thee
But if this be a lie, my little footpage, this thing that you tell me
From the highest tree in Bucklesfordberry hanged you will be
Go saddle me the black he said, go saddle me the grey
Sound you not your horns he said lest our coming you'd betray
But there was a man in Lord Barnard's train who loved the little Musgrave
He blew his horn both loud and shrill. Away Musgrave Away!
I think I hear the morning cock, I think I hear the jay
I think I hear Lord Barnard's men, I wish I was away
Lie still, lie still my little Musgrave and hug me from the cold
It's nothing but a shepherd lad a bringing his flock to fold
Is not your hawk upon his perch your steed eats oats and hay
And you a lady in your arms and yet you go away
So he turned her round and he turned her round and then they fell asleep
When they awoke Lord Barnard's men were standing at their feet
How do you like my bed he said and how do you like my sheets
How do you like my fair Lady that lies in your arms asleep
It's well I like your bed he said and full great it gives me pain
I'd gladly give a hundred pounds to be on yonder Plain
Rise up, rise up little Musgrave rise up and then put on
It'll not be said in this country I slayed a naked man
So slowly, so slowly he got up and slowly he put on
So slowly down the stairs thinking he'd be slain
There are 2 swords down by my side, full dear they cost my purse
You can have the best of them and I will have the worst
And the first stroke little Musgrave struck it hurt Lord Barnard sore
But the next stroke Lord Barnard struck, little Musgrave ne'er struck more
Then up spoke the Lady fair from the bed whereon she lay
Although you're dead my little Musgrave, still for you I'll pray
How do you like his cheeks, he said, and how do you like his chin
How do you like his dead body, now there's no life within
It's well I like his cheeks, she said, don't well I like his chin
It's more I like his dead body then all your kith and kin
So he's taken out his long long sword to strike the mortal blow
Through and through the Lady's heart the cold steel it did go
A grave, a grave Lord Barnard cried to put these lovers in
With my Lady on the upper hand for she came from better kin
For I've slayed the finest night that ever rode a steed
And I've slayed the finest lady that ever did a woman's deed
It fell upon a holy day as many's in the year
Musgrave to the church did go to see fine ladies there

"Locke Hospital"

"Locke Hospital"


As I was a-walking down by the Locke Hospital
Cold was the morning and dark was the day
I spied a young squaddie wrapped up in old linen
Wrapped up in old linen as cold as the day

So play the drums slowly and play the fifes lowly
Sound a dead march as you carry him along
And over his coffin throw a bunch of white laurels
For he's a young soldier cut down in his prime

Oh mother, dear mother, come sit ye down by me
Sit ye down by me and pity my sad plight
For my body is injured and sadly disordered
All by a young girl me own heart's delight

Get six of me comrades to carry my coffin
Get six of me comrades to carry me on high
And let every one hold a bunch of white roses
So no-one will notice as we pass them by

And over his headstone these words they were written
"All ye young fellows take warning from me
Beware of the flash girls that roam through the city
For the girls of the city were the ruin of me"

"Lovely Young One"

"Lovely Young One"


Oh my lovely young one
When you took your leave last night
You offered me no teardrops no kisses no goodbyes
No simple explanation you walked out the door
Leaving Tir na nog for Tir na noiche

Oh my lovely young one
I'm left standing at your wake
My eyes are searching but I can find no trace
Of your final footsteps as you walked out the door
Leaving Tir na nog for Tir na noiche

Oh my lovely young one
Oh my lovely young one
Gone from Tir na nog to Tir na noiche

"Magdalene Laundries"
(originally by Joni Mitchell)

"Magdalene Laundries"
(originally by Joni Mitchell)



Joni was an unmarried girl just turned twenty-seven
When they sent her to the sisters because of the way men looked at her
Branded as a Jezebel she knew she was not bound for heaven
She had been cast in shame into the Magdalen launderies

Most girls went there pregnant some by their own fathers
Bridget got her belly from the Parish Priest
They're trying to wash things as white as snow, all of those woe-begotten daughters
In the steaming stains of the Magdalen launderies

Prostitutes and destitutes and temptresses like Joni
Fallen women sentenced into dreamless drudgery
Why do the call this heartless place Our Lady Of Charity? Of Charity?

These bloodless brides of Jesus if they could just once glimpse their groom
They'd drop the stones concealed behind their rosaries
They wilt the grass they walk upon they leech the light out of a room
They'd like to wash those girls down the drains of the Magdalene launderies

Peg O'Connell died today, she was a cheeky girl, they stuffed her in a hole
Surely to God you'd think at least some bells should ring
Joni thinks she'll die there too and that they'll tramp her in the dirt
Like some lame bulb that never will bloom when the springtime comes, when the springtime comes...

"Magic Nights In The Lobby Bar"

"Magic Nights In The Lobby Bar"


There were magic nights in the lobby bar when Brendan Ring played Madame Bonaparte
And every note that the piper would play would send me away send me away
Away through the window, away in the rain, over the city, away on the air
To a field by a river where the trees are so green, the deepest of green that you've ever seen
Where once you have been you can go back again, you can go anytime, you can go anytime
Cause it's only in your mind

There were magic nights in the lobby bar with Ricky Lynch and his golden guitar
Singin' Autumn in Mayfield and the barley was ripe and the harvest moon was low in the sky
We were children, our mothers were young, and fathers were tall and kind
And every note Ricky Lynch would play would send me away, send me away
Away through the window, away in the rain, over the city, away on the air
To a field by a river where the trees are so green, the deepest of green that you've ever seen
Where once you have been you can go back again, you can go anytime, you can go anytime
Cause it's only in your mind

There were magic nights in the lobby bar when Ger Wolfe would sing like a lark
Singing Winter hung her coat on a hanger of dark
Singing I am the blood of Eireann spilled in a lonely cave
And I am the flower of Ireland adrift on the ocean wave
And I am the lark of Mayfield tumbling down the hill
I am the child of Summer and I can remember it still
And every note that Ger Wolfe would play would send me away, send me away
Away through the window, away in the rain, over the city, away on the air
To a field by a river where the trees are so green, the deepest of green that you've ever seen
Where once you have been you can go back again, you can go anytime, you can go anytime
Cause it's only in your mind

It was Autumn in Mayfield and the barley was ripe and the harvest moon was low in the sky
We were children, our mothers were young, and fathers were tall and kind

"Marrow Bones"

"Marrow Bones"


There was an old woman, who in our town did dwell
Who loved her husband dearly, but another man twice as well

She went to the doctor to see what she could find
To see what she could find, sir, for to make her old man blind

Feed him eggs and marrow bones, feed them to him all
And you'll make you old man so blind that he won't see you at all

She fed him eggs and marrow bones. She fed them to him all
And she made her old man so blind that he couldn't see her at all

Now that I'm getting old and blind, I'm weary of my life
So I will go and drown myself, and that will end my strife

To drown yourself to drown yourself, now that would be a sin
You just stand by the river bank and I will push you in
So the old woman, she took a running jump for to push the old man in
The old man he just stepped aside, and the old woman she fell in

"Save me, save me," the old woman she did call
The old man said "I am so blind that I can't see you at all"

She swam along, she swam along till she came to the river's brim
But the old man he got a big long pole, and he pushed her further in

So now the old woman is dead and gone, and the devil has got her soul
And wasn't she just a durned old fool, that she didn't grab that pole

Eggs, eggs and marrow bones will make your old man blind
But if you want for to do him in, creep up from behind

"Matty"

"Matty"


Matty went out on a frozen night
Making heading for the pub his shoulders hunched up tight
His head down on the railroad track
And his old cow Delia sad lowin' him back

He met with a dark and troubled man
As he passed him by called back at him
Hey Matty can't you see what's become of me
In this country of the blind

The house I've left is dead to me
To me rhyming and my poetry
All I've got is the beat of the stagger
Heading down the Curragh Line

But Matty passed on as quick as he could
He couldn't stand such a crooked man sober
All he wanted was the lights of the bar
The Nightingale and the Wild Rover

When he came in
They were sayin' he was back
OH did Delia drive you out
With your spoutin' and your swearin'?
We don't want to hear about Bunker Hayden
Maybe you'll sing us the Girls of Kinkane

The fear an ti eyed him steadily
As he handed him a pint of porter
You must have seen the bishop's ghost tonight
To put the dry look back in your eye

But Matty would not be taken in
By their jibin' and their regalin'
He found himself a fresh blown crew
And fell in with their sportin' and their bailin'

As he was going home, in that very same spot
He met his dark familiar
He seen him comin' back down the line
And he was bright and strange and fine

As he passed him by Matty threw out his arms
Trying to grab hold of his likeness
In the morning they found his frozen corpse
And the butt of Curragh Line

And at the wake
They were lashin' down
The drops of brandy
The old fashioned habit
In the church they were lashin' down pounds and fivers
So Matty would be fine in the old by and by

"McIlhatton"

"McIlhatton"


In Glenravel's Glen there lives a man whom some would call a god
For he could cure your shakes with a bottle of his stuff would cost you thirty bob
Come winter, summer, frost all over, a jiggin' Spring on the breeze
In the dead of night a man steps by, "McIlhatton, if you please"
McIlhatton you blurt we need you, cry a million shaking men
Where are your sacks of barley, will your likes be seen again?
Here's a jig to the man and a reel to the drop and a swing to the girl he loves
May your fiddle play and poitín cure your company up above
There's a wisp of smoke to the south of the Glen and the poitín is on the air
The birds in the burrows and the rabbits in the sky and there's drunkards everywhere
At Skerries Rock the fox is out and begod he's chasing the hounds
And the only thing in decent shape is buried beneath the ground
McIlhatton you blurt we need you, cry a million shaking men
Where are your sacks of barley, will your likes be seen again?
Here's a jig to the man and a reel to the drop and a swing to the girl he loves
May your fiddle play and poitín cure your company up above
At McIlhatton's house the fairies are out and dancing on the hobs
The goat's collapsed and the dog has run away and there's salmon down the bogs
He has a million gallons of wash and the peelers are on the Glen
But they'll never catch that hackler 'cause he's not comin' home again
McIlhatton you blurt we need you, cry a million shaking men
Where are your sacks of barley, will your likes be seen again?
Here's a jig to the man and a reel to the drop and a swing to the girl he loves
May your fiddle play and poitín cure your company up above
McIlhatton you blurt we need you, cry a million shaking men
Where are your sacks of barley, will your likes be seen again?
Here's a jig to the man and a reel to the drop and a swing to the girl he loves
May your fiddle play and poitín cure your company up above