Christy Moore : Misc

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In eighteen-oh-three we sailed out to sea

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Out from the sweet town of Derry

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For Australia bound, if we didn't all drown

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The marks of our fetters we carried

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In our rusty iron chains we cried for our weans

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Our good women we left in sorrow

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As the main sails unfurled, our curses we hurled

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On the English and thoughts of tomorrow At the mouth of the Foyle, bade farewell to the soil As down below decks we were lying O'Doherty screamed, woken out of a dream By a vision of bold Robert dying The sun burnt cruel as we dished out the gruel Dan O'Conner was down with a fever Sixty rebels today, bound for Botany Bay How many will reach their receiver

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Oh oh oh oh oh I wish I was back home in Derry

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Oh oh oh oh oh I wish I was back home in Derry I cursed them to hell as our bow fought the swell Our ship danced like a moth in the firelight White horses rode high as the devil passed by Taking souls to Hades by twilight Five weeks out to sea, we were now forty-three We buried our comrades each morning In our own slime we were lost in the time Endless night without dawning Oh oh oh oh oh I wish I was back home in Derry Oh oh oh oh oh I wish I was back home in Derry Van Diemen's Land is a hell for a man To end out his whole life in slavery Where the climate is raw and a gun makes the law Neither wind nor rain care for bravery Twenty years have gone by, I have ended my bond My comrades' ghosts walk beside me A rebel I came, I'm still the same On the cold winds of night you will find me Oh oh oh oh oh I wish I was back home in Derry Oh oh oh oh oh I wish I was back home in Derry

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Black is the colour, of my true love's hair

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E7

Her lips are like, some roses fair

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E7

She has the sweetest smile, and the gentlest hands

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And I love the ground, whereon she stands I love my love, and well she knows I love the ground, whereon she goes I wish the day, it soon would come When she and I could be as one I go to the Clyde and I mourn and weep For satisfied, I never can be Then I write her a letter, just a few short lines And suffer death, a thousand times For black is the colour, of my true love's hair Her lips are like, some roses fair She has the sweetest smile, and the gentlest hands I love the ground, whereon she stands

Instrumental verse

Black is the colour, of my true love's hair Her lips are like, some roses fair She has the sweetest smile, and the gentlest hands And I love the ground, whereon she stands Yes, I love the ground, whereon she stands

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In the city of Chicago

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Bm

As the evening shadows fall

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There are people dreaming

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Of the hills of Donegal

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Eighteen forty-seven

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Was the year it all began

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Deadly pains of hunger

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Drove a million from the land They journeyed not for glory Their motive wasn't greed A voyage of survival Across the stormy sea In the city of Chicago As the evening shadows fall There are people dreaming Of the hills of Donegal Some of them knew fortune Some of them knew fame More of them knew hardship And died working on the plain They spread throughout the nation They rode the railroad cars Brought their songs and music To ease their lonely hearts In the city of Chicago As the evening shadows fall There are people dreaming Of the hills of Donegal

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You may travel far far from your own native home

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Far away o'er the mountains far away o'er the foam

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But of all the fine places that I've ever seen

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There's none to compare with The Cliffs of Dooneen Take a view o'er the water fine sights you'll see there You'll see the high rocky slopes on the West coast of Clare The towns of Kilkee and Kilrush can be seen From the high rocky slopes at The Cliffs of Dooneen It's a nice place to be on a fine Summer's day Watching all the wild flowers that ne'er do decay The hare and lofty pheasant are plain to be seen Making homes for their young round The Cliffs of Dooneen Fare thee well to Dooneen fare thee well for a while And to all the fine people I'm leaving behind To the streams and the meadows where late I have been And the high rocky slopes of The Cliffs of Dooneen

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Born in the middle of the afternoon

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In a horse-drawn carriage on the old A5 The big twelve wheeler shook my bed

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You can't stay here the policeman said

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You'd better get born in some place else

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Move along get along

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Move along get along

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Go! Move! Shift Born in the common by a building site Where the ground was rutted by the trail of wheels The local Christian said to me You'll lower the price of property You'd better get born in some place else Move along get along Move along get along Go! Move! Shift Born at the back of a hawthorn hedge Where the black hole frost lay on the ground No eastern kings came bearing gifts Instead the order came to shift You'd better get born in some place else Move along get along Move along get along Go! Move! Shift The eastern sky was full of stars And one shone brighter than the rest The wise men came so stern and strict And brought the orders to evict You'd better get born in some place else Move along get along Move along get along Go! Move! Shift Wagon tent or trailer born Last month, last year or in far off days Born here or a thousand miles away There's always men nearby who'll say You'd better get born in some place else Move along get along Move along get along Go! Move! Shift Move along get along Move along get along Go! Move! Shift Move along get along Move along get along Go! Move! Shift!

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It was in the year of '88 in the lovely month of June

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When the gadflies were swarming and dogs howling at the moon

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With rosary beads and sandwiches for Stuttgart we began

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D7

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Joxer packed his German phrasebook and jump-leads for the van Some of the lads had never been away from home before 'Twas the first time Whacker put his foot outside of Inchicore Before we left for Europe we knew we'd need a plan So we all agreed that Joxer was the man to drive the van In Germany the autobahn, 'twas like the Long Mile Road There was every make of car and van all carrying the full load Ford Transits and Hiaces and an old Bedford from Tralee With the engine overheating from longhauling duty free There was fans from Ballyfermot, Ballybough and Ballymun On the journey of a lifetime, and the crack was ninety-one Joxer met a German's daughter on the banks of the river Rhine And he told her she'd be welcome in Ballyfermot any time As soon as we found Stuttgart we got the wagons in a ring Sean Og got out the banjo and Peter played the mandolin There was fans there from everywhere attracted by the sound At the first Fleadh Ceoil in Europe, and Joxer passed the flagon round But the session it ended when we'd finished all the stout The air mattresses inflated and the sleeping bags rolled out As one by one we fell asleep Joxer had a dream He dreamt himself and Jack Charlton sat down to pick the team Joxer dreamt they both agreed on Packie Bonner straightaway And that Moran, Whelan and McGrath were certainly to play But tempers they began to rise and patience wearing thin Jack wanted Cascarino but Joxer wanted Quinn The dream turned into a nightmare, Joxer stuck the head on Jack Who wanted to bring Johnny Giles and Eamon Dunphy back The cock crew in the morning, it crew both loud and shrill Joxer woke up in his sleeping bag many miles from Arbour Hill The next morning none of the experts gave us the slightest chance They said the English team would lead us on a merry dance With their Union Jacks all them English fans for victory they were set Until Ray Houghton got the ball and he stuck it in the net What happened next is history, brought tears to many eyes That day will be the highlight of many people's lives Joxer climbed right over the top and the last time he was seen Was arm-in-arm with Jack Charlton singing, Revenge for Skibbereen Now Whacker's back in Inchicore, he's living with his mam And Jack Charlton has been proclaimed an honorary Irishman Do you remember that German's daughter on the banks of the river Rhine Well, didn't she show up in Ballyfermot last week and ...

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Dm

Oh I'm missing you

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I'd give all for the price of the flight

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Oh I'm missing you

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Under Piccadilly's neon

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In nineteen hundred and eighty six

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There's not much for a chippie or swinging the pick

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And you can't live on love and on love alone

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So you sail cross the ocean, away cross the foam To where you're a Paddy, you're a Biddy, you're a Mick Good for nothing but stacking the brick And your best mate's a spade and he carries a hod Two work horses heavily shod Oh I'm missing you I'd give all for the price of the flight Oh I'm missing you Under Piccadilly's neon Who did you murder, or are you a spy? I'm fond of a drink helps me laugh, helps me cry Now I just drink red biddy for a permanent high And I laugh a lot less and I'll cry till I die Oh I'm missing you I'd give all for the price of the flight Oh I'm missing you Under Piccadilly's neon All you young people now take my advice Before crossing the ocean you'd better think twice 'Cause you can't live without love, without love alone And the proof's around London in the nobody zone Where the summer is fine, but the winter's a fridge Wrapped up in old cardboard under Charing Cross Bridge And I'll never go home now because of the shame Of the misfit's reflection in a shop window pane Oh I'm missing you I'd give all for the price of the flight Oh I'm missing you Under Piccadilly's neon

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I'm missing you, I'm missing you, I'm missing you

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I want to reach out over the Loch

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And feel your hand across the water

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Walk with you along an unapproved road

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Not looking over my shoulder

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I wanna see, and I wanna hear

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To understand your fears

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But we're north and south of the river I've been doing it wrong all of my life This holy town has turned me over A young man running from what he didn't understand While the wind from the Loch just get colder, colder There was a badness that had its way But love wasn't lost, love will have its day North and south of the river North and south of the river Can we stop playing this old tattoo Darling I don't have the answer I wanna meet you where you are I don't need you to surrender 'Cause there's no feeling that's so alone As when the one you're hurting is your own North and south of the river North and south of the river North and south of the river Some high ground is not worth taking Some connections are not worth making This old church bell no longer ringing Some old songs are not worth bringing North... / Higher ground is not worth taking

Christy Moore : Misc

Back Home In Derry

Black Is The Colour

City Of Chicago

Cliffs Of Dooneen

Go, Move, Shift

Joxer Goes To Stuttgart

Missing You

North And South Of The River