An Irish Love Song-Londonderry Air

self | 03-17-2021 | CharlesOconnell

[CharlesOConnell]

Londonderry Air isn't "O Danny Boy", that came a decade later, it was originally "An Irish Love Song".

Would God that I, might be an apple blossom,
that falls and floats, from off the twisted bough,
to find a home, beside your tender blushes,
and gently lie, where lies that blossom now.

Or would I were, a little burnished apple,
for you to gather gliding by so fair,
while shade and sun, your robe of lawn will dapple,
and hide together in your crown of golden hair.

Or, would that I were one among the roses,
that bow to greet you as you float between,
while on the lowest branch a bud uncloses,
to win a smile from you, her lovely queen.

Nay, since I know your hand will ne'er caress me,
I'd be a leaf and on your pathway lie,
if but perchance your snow-white foot might press me,
and so at last to make me happy, though I die.

Play the song in a New Window ⧉

[real saxophonist]

Of course we called it 'London Derriere'.

Look up Percy Grainger if you like this genre.

[khelus]

Thanks for the post

[HartleyMBaldwin]

I like this one better...

The Irish Ballad
Tom Lehrer

About a maid I’ll sing a song
Sing rickety-tickety-tin
About a maid I’ll sing a song
Who didn’t have her family long
Not only did she do them wrong
She did every one of them in, them in
She did every one of them in

One morning in a fit of pique
Sing rickety-tickety-tin
One morning in a fit of pique
She drowned her father in the creek
The water tasted bad for a week
And we had to make do with gin, with gin
We had to make do with gin

Her mother she could never stand
Sing rickety-tickety-tin
Her mother she could never stand
And so a cyanide soup she planned
Her mother died with a spoon in her hand
And her face in a hideous grin, a grin
Her face in a hideous grin

She set her sister’s hair on fire
Rickety-tickety-tin
She set her sister’s hair on fire
And as the smoke and flame rose higher
Danced around the funeral pyre
Playin’ a violin, ‘olin
Playin’ a violin

She weighted her brother down with stones
Rickety-tickety-tin
She weighted her brother down with stones
And sent him off to Davy Jones
All they ever found were some bones
And occasional pieces of skin, of skin
Occasional pieces of skin

One day when she had nothing to do
Rickety-tickety-tin
One day when she had nothing to do
She cut her baby brother in two
And served him up as an Irish stew
And invited the neighbors in, ‘bors in
Invited the neighbors in

And when at last the police came by
Rickety-tickety-tin
And when at last the police came by
Her little pranks she did not deny
To do so she would have had to lie
And lying she knew was a sin, a sin
Lying she knew was a sin

My tragic tale I won’t prolong
Rickety-tickety-tin
My tragic tale I won’t prolong
And if you do not enjoy my song
You’ve yourselves to blame if it’s too long
You should never have let me begin, begin
You should never have let me begin

[Organic Panic]

My favorite is “Fairy Tale of New York.”

BUT. It got cancelled.