Deo Gratias Anglia (The Agincourt Carol)

Deo Gracias, Deo gracias Anglia
Redde pro Victoria!
Our King went forth to Normandy
With grace and might of chivalry
There God for him wrought marv'losly
Where for England may call and cry.
He set a siege, sooth for to say
To Harfleur town, with royal array
The town he won, and made a fray
That France shall rue until Doomsday.
Then Went our King, with all his host
Through France, spite all the French did boast
He spared neither least, nor most
'til he came to Agincourt Coast
Then forsooth that comely Knight
In Agincourt field did manly fight
Through grace of God most mighty
He won both field and victory.
There dukes and earls, lord and baron
Were taken, slain, and that well soon
And some were led into London
With joy and mirth and great renown
Now gracious God he save our King
His people and all his good willing
Give him good live and good ending
That we with mirth may safely sing.


The Fox

Oh, the fox went out on a chilly night
He prayed for the moon to give him light
He had many-a-mile to go that night
Before he reached the town-o, town-o, town-o,
He had many a mile to go that night
Before he reached the town

He ran 'til he came to a great big pen
The ducks and the geese were kept therein
He said a couple of you are going to grease my chin
Before I leave this town-o, town-o, town-o
He said a couple of you are going to grease my chin
Before I leave this town

He grabbed a grey goose by the neck and
Swung a little one over his back
He didn't mind their quack, quack, quack and
Their legs all-dangling down-o, down-o, down-o
He didn't mind their quack, quack, quack and their
Legs all dangling down

Old Mother Pitter-Patter jumped out of her bed
And out of the window she cocked her head
Saying John, John, the grey goose is gone and
The fox is on the town-o, town-o, town-o
Saying John, John the grey goose is gone and
The fox is on the town

So John, he ran to the top of the hill,
Blew his horn both loud and shrill and
The fox, he said better flee with my kill for
They'll soon be on my trail-o, trail-o, trail-o and
The fox, he said better flee with my kill
They'll soon be on my trail

So back he ran to his cozy den
There were the little ones eight, nine, ten
Saying Daddy, Daddy, better go back again
For it must be a mighty fine town-o, town-o, town-o
Saying Daddy, Daddy, better go back again for it
Must be a mighty fine town

Then the fox and his wife, without any strife
Cut-up the goose with a fork and a knife
They never had such a meal in their life and the
Little ones chewed on the bones-o, bones-o, bones-o
They never had such a meal in their life and the
Little ones chewed on the bones.


The Trees, They Grow High

The trees, they grow high and the leaves they do grow green,
Many an hour my true love I have seen
Many a time I've watched him all alone,
He's young but he's dearly growing

Father, dear Father, you've done me a grave wrong,
You've married me to a boy who is too young
I am twice twelve and he is but fourteen,
He's young but he's dearly growing

Daughter, dear Daughter, I've done you no grave wrong,
I've married you to a great lord's son
He'll make a fine man for you to wait upon,
He's young but he's dearly growing

One day I was looking o'er my father's wall,
I spied all the boys a playing at the ball
And my own true love was the fairest of them all,
He's young but he's dearly growing

At the age of fourteen he was a married man
At the age of fifteen the father of a son
At the age of sixteen his grave, it was grown green
And death put an end to his growing.


Dindirin Dindirin

Dindirin, dindirin,
dindirin daña,
Dindirindin.

Je me leve un bel matìn
Matinata per la prata.
Encontré le ruyseñor
Que cantaba so la rama.
Dindirindin.

Ruyseñor, le ruyseñor,
Ficteme a questa embaxata.
Y digalo a mon ami,
Que je ja so maritata.
Dindirindin.
Dindirin, dindirin,
dindirin daña,
Dindirindin.

(English Translation)

In the morning I arose,
And I walked among the meadows;
There I met a nightingale
Who was singing in the treetops.

Nightingale, O nightingale,
Carry this message for me.
Tell my lover this for me:
That I am already married.


The Fisherman's Song
Andy M. Stewart Strathmore Music

On a storm-torn shoreline a woman is standing
The spray hung like jewels in her hair
And the sea tore the rocks on the desolate landing
As though it had known she stood there;

For she has gone down to condemn that wild ocean
For the murderous loss of her man
His boat sailed out last Wednesday morning
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands;

Oh and white were the wavecaps and wild was their parting
Such is the glory of love
And she prayed to the gods both of men and of sailors
Not to cast their cruel nets on her man;

For she has gone down to condemn that wild ocean
For the murderous loss of her man
His boat sailed out last Wednesday morning
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands;

There's a school on a hill where the sons of dead sailors
Are led toward tempests and gales
And their god-given wings are clipped close to their bodies
And their eyes abound round with ship's sails

What force leads a man to a life filled with danger
High on seas or a mile underground
It's when need is his master and poverty's no stranger
And there's no other work to be found;

For she has gone down to condemn that wild ocean
For the murderous loss of her man
His boat sailed out last Wednesday morning
And it's feared she's gone down with all hands.


The Frog

Froggie would a wooin' go, singing
HEY HO!
Whether his mother was willing or no,
HEY HO, Would a wooin' go!

He put on his high-topped hat,
HEY HO!
And out on the road he met with a rat,
HEY HO, Would a wooin' go!

They went to Miss Mousie's hall,
HEY HO!
Where they gave a loud knock and they gave a loud call,
HEY HO, Would a wooin' go!

Say, Miss Mouse bring us some beer,
HEY HO!
So we might drink and have good cheer,
HEY HO, Would a wooin' go!

Say Miss Mouse sing us a song,
HEY HO!
One that's pretty but not too long,
HEY HO, Would a wooin' go!

While they were a merry-makin',
HEY HO!
The cat and kittens came tumbling in,
HEY HO, Would a wooin go!

The cat, she grabbed the rat by the crown,
HEY HO!
And the kittens, they tumbled Miss Mousie down,
HEY HO, Would a wooin' go!

This put the frog in a terrible fright,
HEY HO!
So he put on his hat and he bid them goodnight,
HEY HO, Would a wooin go!

While the frog was crossing the brook,
HEY HO!
A duck jumped up and gobbled him up,
HEY HO, Would a wooin' go!

So, dear friends, here's my advice,
HEY HO!
Don't share good beer with rats and mice,
HEY HO, Would a wooin go!
Froggie, would a wooin go!


Gaudeté

Gaudeté, gaudeté!
Christus est natus
Ex Maria virgine:
Gaudeté!

Tempus adest gratiae,
Hoc quod optabamus
Carmina laetitiae
Devote reddamus.

Deus homo factus est
Natura mirante,
Mundus renovatus est
A Christo regnante.

Ezechielis porta
Clausa pertransitur
Unde Lux est orta
Salus invenitur.

Ergo nostra contio
Psallat iam in lustro,
Benedicat Domino
Salus Regi nostro.

Translation
(from the New Oxford Book of Carols, 1992)

Rejoice! Rejoice!
Christ is born of the Virgin Mary; rejoice!
The time of grace has come for which we have prayed
Let us devoutly sing songs of joy.
God is made man, while nature wonders
The world is renewed by Christ the King.
The closed gate of Ezekiel has been passed through
From where the light has risen [the East], salvation is found.
Therefore let our assembly sing praises now at this time of purification
Let it bless the Lord: greetings to our King


Wild Rover

I have been a wild rover for many a year
And I spent all me money on whiskey and beer,
But now I'm returning with gold and great store
And I ne'er shall be called Wild Rover no more;

(Chorus)
Wild Rover now give over, Wild Rover now give o'er
And I ne'er shall be called Wild Rover no more;

I went into an alehouse I used to frequent
And I told the landlady all me money was spent,
I asked her for credit, she answered me nay
Saying customers yours I can have any day

Chorus

I went into my pockets - pulled out sovereigns bright
And the landlady's eyes opened wide with delight,
She said -I have whiskey and wines of the best
And the words that I spoke were only in jest

Chorus

I'll go back to me parents - confess what I've done
And I'll ask them to pardon their prodigal son
And if they kiss me as oft times before,
Than I ne'er shall a go wild roving no more;

Chorus


Conn's Song

The moon shines bright o'er the wind-swept valley
And to my tears lends icy flame,
When the sun has risen o'er my slain kinsman
Then steel's cold vengeance I'll grimly claim;

We met our new foe in the open meadow
They mailed and mounted - on foot were we,
We slew their soldiers but wore no armour
Now many souls in darkness sleep;

My sister's lover was trampled under
But I marked well his murderer's shield,
And on the morrow his love will sorrow
As does my sister in yon cold field;

My ire they've wakened - their blood I've taken
And horse and armour have I this day,
O'brien's calling we ride at dawning


The Ladies of An Tir
Written by and permission given by
Lady Dairaine mor o'uHigin (Gael Stirler)

I'll sing of all I feel inside for the ladies of An Tir,
For they derive their beauty from each season of the year'
I've never seen such virtue, though I've traveled far and near
And all my fortunes I have found in the ladies of An Tir;

In springtime when the cherries bloom though other trees are bare,
Sweet lasses with their cheeks aglow and flowers in their hair,
Sparkle in the morning light that nowhere shines so clear,
As on the rain-washed faces of the ladies of An Tir;

In summertime the leafy bows above their heads entwine,
Beneath their shady palaces on cushions they recline,
Singing at their needlework if you should chance to hear,
You'll surely be enchanted by the ladies of An Tir;

In autumn winds the swirling leaves blown softly from the trees,
Brings to mind the strands of hair floating in the breeze,
A rustle of their satin skirts - their laughter in my ears,
Each falling leaf reminds me of the ladies of An Tir;

In wintertime when all the streets are chocked with hostile rain,
I sit beside the fireplace where lesser men complain,
I look around the festival - the faces I hold dear,
Thank god I spend my yule tide with the ladies of An Tir;

Now brother minstrel heed my words and point your boots northwest,
For beauty, honour, wisdom, An Tir outshines the rest.
For someday you may wear the crown or the laurel of a peer,
Tis better honour to be loved by the ladies of An Tir.