I've met some folks who say that I'm a dreamer,

And I've no doubt there's truth in what they say,

But sure a body's bound to be a dreamer

When all the things he loves are far away.

And precious things are dreams unto an exile.

They take him o'er the land across the sea --

Especially when it happens he's an exile

From that dear lovely Isle of Inisfree.

 

 

And when the moonlight peeps across the rooftops

Of this great city, wondrous though it be,

I scarcely feel its wonder or its laughter.

I'm once again back home in Inisfree.

 

 

I wander o'er green hills through dreamy valleys

And find a peace no other land could know.

I hear the birds make music fit for angels

And watch the rivers laughing as they flow.

And then into a humble shack I wander --

My dear old home -- and tenderly behold

The folks I love around the turf fire gathered.

On bended knees ,their rosary is told.

 

 

But dreams don't last --

Though dreams are not forgotten --

And soon I'm back to stern reality.

But though they pave the footways here with gold dust,

I still would choose the Isle of Inisfree.

​

 The Wild Colonian Boy

​

There was a wild colonial boy, Jack Duggan was his name

He was born and raised in Ireland, in a place called Castlemaine

He was his father's only son, his mother's pride and joy

And dearly did his parents love the wild colonial boy.

 

 

At the early age of sixteen years he left his native home

And to Australia's sunny shore, he was inclined to roam

He robbed the rich, he helped the poor, he shot James MacEvoy

A terror to Australia was, the wild colonial boy.

 

 

One morning on the prairie, as Jack he rode along

A-listening to the mocking bird, a-singing a cheerful song

Up stepped a band of troopers: Kelly, Davis and Fitzroy

They all set out to capture him, the wild colonial boy.

 

 

Surrender now, Jack Duggan, for you see we're three to one

Surrender in the King's high name, you are a plundering son

Jack drew two pistols from his belt, he proudly waved them high

I'll fight, but not surrender, said the wild colonial boy.

 

 

He fired a shot at Kelly, which brought him to the ground

And turning round to Davis, he recieved a fatal wound

A bullet pierced his proud young heart, from the pistol of Fitzroy

And that was how they captured him, the wild colonial boy.

​

The Humour Is On Me Now

​

Oh, as I went out one mornin' --

It bein' the month of May --

A farmer and his daughter

I spied upon me way.

And the girl sat down quite calmly

To the milkin' of her cow,

Sayin' I will and I must get married

for the humour is on me now.

 

 

Oh, the humour is on me now.

Oh, the humour is on me now.

Sayin' I will and I must get married

for the humour is on me now.

 

 

So at last the daughter married --

She married well-to-do --

And loved her darlin' husband

For a month, a year or two.

But Sean was all a tyrant,

And she quickly rued her vow,

Sayin' I'm sorry I ever got married

for the humour is off me now.

 

 

Oh, the humour is off me now.

Oh, the humour is off me now.

Sayin' I'm sorry I ever got married

for the humour is off me now.

​

Mush Mush

​

It was there that I learned all me courtin' --

Many lessons I took in the art --

Till Cupid, the blackguard, while sportin',

An arrow drove straight through me

Mush, Mush, Mush tural-i-addy

Me Mush, Mush, Mush tural-i-ay.

So I lathered him with me shillelagh

For he trod on the tail of me

Mush, Mush, Mush tural-i-addy.

And just like the Dingle for gold,

I lathered him with me shillelagh

For he trod on the tail of me coat.