Free Celtic Songs, Irish Songs and More
By Marc Gunn
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Podcast Description
Make every day St. Patrick's Day with Marc Gunn's Free CD, Confessions of a Celtic Music Junkie, featuring a fun mix of Celtic and folk songs.
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Johnny Jump Up | Words and music Traditional Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: Happy Songs of Death Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes I'll tell you a story that happened to me One day as I went down to Yore by the sea The sun it was bright and the day it was warm, Says I a quiet pint wouldn't do me no harm I went in and I called for a bottle of stout Says the barman, "I'm sorry, all the beer is sold out. Try whiskey or paddy, ten years in the wood." Says I, "I'll try cider, I've heard that it's good good." Oh never, Oh never, Oh never again If I live to a hundred or a hundred and ten I fell to the ground and I could not get up After drinking a quart of the Johnny Jump Up Ahhh... After lowering the third I made straight for the yard Where I bumped into Brody, the big civic guard Come here to me boy, don't you know I'm the law? Well, I up with me fist and I shattered his jaw He fell to the ground with his knees doubled up But it wasn't I hit him, 'twas the Johnny Jump Up The next thing I met down in Yore by the sea Was a cripple on crutches and says he to me I'm afraid for me life I'll be hit by a car Won't you help me on down to the Railway Men's Bar? After downing a pint of the cider so sweet Well, he threw down his crutches and danced on his feet Well, I went up the lee road, a friend for to see They call it the madhouse in Cork by the Lea And when I got there, sure the truth I will tell, Well, they had the poor bugger locked up in a cell Said the guard, testing him, say these words if you can Around the rugged rock the ragged rascal ran Tell him I'm not crazy, tell him I'm not mad It was only a sip of the bottle I had Well, a man died in the mines by the name of McNabb They washed him and laid him outside on the slab And after the coroners measurements did take Well, his wife took him home to a bloody fine wake About 12 o'clock and the beer it was high And the corpse he sat up and he says with a sigh I can't get to heaven, they won't let me up Til I bring them a quart of the Johnny Jump Up KEY Dm verse/chorus: Dm Dm C Dm Am Am Dm Dm Dm Dm C Dm Dm Dm C Dm | 5 1 11 | Free | View In iTunes |
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Isn’t It Grand, Boys? | Words and music Traditional Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: Happy Songs of Death Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes Look at the coffin with golden handles Isn't it grand boys to be bloody well dead? Let's not have a sniffle, Let's have a bloody good cry And always remember the longer you live, The sooner you'll bloody well die Look at the preacher, bloody well santified (bloody sanctimonious) Isn't it grand boys to be bloody well dead? Look at the choir boys, bloody castrati Isn't it grand boys to be bloody well dead? Look at the widow, bloody great female Isn't it grand boys to be bloody well dead? Look at the mourners, bloody great hippocrites Isn't it grand boys to be bloody well dead? Look at the flowers, all bloody wilted Isn't it grand boys to be bloody well dead? Look at the tombstone, bloody great boulder Isn't it grand boys to be bloody well dead? Look at the whiskey, in buckets and bottles Isn't it grand boys to be bloody well dead? KEY C verse: C C F F C C G G chorus: C C C C F F C C F F C C G F C C | 20 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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Won’t You Come With Me? | Words and music Marc Gunn, June 1, 2006 Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: Happy Songs of Death Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes I left my ship with storms on my mind, High wind and tossing seas. I sought a maid with soft green eyes To take my mind off me. Hai diddle-dai-dum Ba du diddle-dai-dum Ba du diddle-dai diddle-dai dee Hai diddle-dai-dum Ba du diddle-dai-dum Won't you come with me? I met a maid by waterside Gutting the herring clean. She took my hand, laid down her knife. As we walked along the beach. Singing... She set herself down on a rock And bade me sit at her feet. The sun settled down and the wind did blow The curlets across her cheek. We sang... I took her gently in my arms Our bodies rolling in the sand. When she pulled the knife out of my side My body stopped lurching at last. KEY G verse: G C D G G D G G G C D G G D G G chorus: C D G-D-G C D G-D-G Background Last night, I was watching Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. I finished and after spending hours in front of the computer, I needed a break. So I decided to improvise a song on my autoharp. Once I had a nice melody, I wrote these lyrics. Then I recorded the song on my new Edirol digital recorder. Ah! There's nothing like a good murder ballad. | 20 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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Twa Corbies | Words and music Traditional Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: Happy Songs of Death Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes As I was walking all alane, I heard twa corbies making a mane; The tane unto the t'ither say, 'Where sall we gang and dine today-o?' 'In behint yon auld fail dyke, I wot there lies a new slain knight; And naebody kens that he lies there, But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair. 'His hound is to the hunting game, His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, His lady's taken another mate, So we shall mak our dinner sweet. 'Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, And I'll pike out his bonny blue een; Wi ae lock o his gowden hair We'll, theek our nest when it grows bare. 'Mony a one for him makes mane, But nane sall ken where he is gane; Oer his white banes, when they we bare, The wind sall blaw for evermair.' | 20 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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Jug of Punch | Words and music Traditional Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: Happy Songs of Death Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes One evening in the month of June As I was sitting in my room A small bird sat on an ivy bunch And the song he sang was "The Jug Of Punch." Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay, too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay A small bird sat on an ivy bunch And the song he sang was "The Jug Of Punch." What more diversion can a man desire? Than to sit him down by an alehouse fire Upon his knee a pretty wench And upon the table a jug of punch. Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay, too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay Upon his knee a pretty wench And on the table a jug of punch. Let the doctors come with all their art They'll make no impression upon my heart Even a cripple forgets his hunch When he's snug outside of a jug of punch. Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay, T too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay Even a cripple forgets his hunch When he's snug outside of a jug of punch. And if I get drunk, well, me money's me own And them don't like me they can leave me alone I'll chune me fiddle and I'll rosin me bow And I'll be welcome wherever I go. Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay, T oo ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay I'll chune me fiddle and I'll rosin me bow And I'll be welcome wherever I go. And when I'm dead and in my grave No costly tombstone will I crave Just lay me down in my native peat With a jug of punch at my head and feet. Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay, Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay Just lay me down in my native peat With a jug of punch at my head and feet. KEY G verse/chorus: G C G D7 G C G D7 G Background A jug was and still is the best for drinking punch out of. As they say, the water and the spirits mix better. | 20 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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Whiskey, You’re the Devil | Words and music Traditional Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: Happy Songs of Death Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes Whiskey you’re the devil. You’re leading me astray Over hills and mountains and to Amerikay You're sweeter, stronger, decenter, you're spunkier than tea, Oh, whiskey you're me darlin', drunk or so-ber Oh now brave boys we're on the march Off to Portugal and Spain The drums a-beating, the banners flying The devil a-home will come tonight Bridge: Love fare thee well With a tither-y-eye, the diddlum the dah Me tither-y-eye, the diddlum the dah Me right fol tur-a ladee Oh, there's whiskey in the jar Said the mother, "Do not wrong me Don't take me daughter from me For if you do, I will torment you And after death the ghost will haunt you" The French are fighting boldly Men dying hot and coldly Give every man a flask of powder A firelock upon his shoulder KEY Bb Verse: Bb Bb Bb Bb Eb Eb Bb Bb Eb Eb Bb Bb F F F F Bridge: Bb Bb Bb Bb Bb Bb Bb Bb Eb Eb Eb Eb Bb Bb Bb Bb F F Bb Bb Chorus: Bb Bb Bb Bb Eb Eb Bb Bb Eb Eb Bb Bb F F F F Bb Bb Bb Bb Eb Eb Bb Bb Bb Bb Bb Bb F F Bb Bb | 20 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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High Jeannie High | Words and music Traditional Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: Happy Songs of Death Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes And sing high Jeannie high, Sing low Jeannie low You can never make a singing bird Out of a hoodie crow My father was a gentleman, and a gentleman was he But he's wed me to an old man of three score years and three Before I'd have an old man with thirty plows and land I'd rather have a young man with only hat in hand For when we go to bed at night he turns o'er to the wall And never lays a hand on me till morning light dawns Now some neighbors have advised me to drown him in a well Some others have advised me to grind him in a mill But I have taken my own advice and borne him to a plain And I've tied him to a windmill, and he'll never come back again KEY D verse: D G D G D G D G chorus: A A G G A A G-A-D | 20 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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Rosin the Bow | Words and music Traditional Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: Happy Songs of Death Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes I've traveled this wide world all over And now to another I go. And I know the good quarters are waiting To welcome old Rosin the Bow. To welcome old Rosin the Bow. (x2) And I know the good quarters are waiting To welcome old Rosin the Bow. When I'm dead and laid out on the counter A voice you will hear from below, Saying "Send down a hogshead of whisky To drink with old Rosin the Bow. To drink with old Rosin the Bow". (x2) Saying "Send down a hogshead of whisky To drink with old Rosin the Bow". Then get a half dozen stout fellows And line them all up in a row Let them drink out of half gallon bottles To the memory of Rosin the Bow To the memory of Rosin the Bow (x2) Let them drink out of half gallon bottles To the memory of Rosin the Bow Then get a half dozen stout fellows And line them all stagger and go And let 'em dig a great hole in the meadow And in it put Rosin the Bow. And in it put Rosin the Bow. (x2) Let 'em dig a great hole in the meadow And in it put Rosin the Bow. Then get ye a couple of bottles. Put one at me head and me toe. With a diamond ring scratched upon 'em The name of old Rosin the Bow. The name of old Rosin the Bow. (x2) With a diamond ring scratched upon 'em The name of old Rosin the Bow. I feel that grim reaper approaching, That cruel remorseless old foe, And I lift up me glass in his honour. Take a drink with old Rosin the Bow. Take a drink with old Rosin the Bow. (x2) And I lift up me glass in his honour. Take a drink with old Rosin the Bow. KEY C verse: C C C C C Am Dm G7 C C C C F C G C chorus: C C F F C Am Dm G7 C C C C F C G7 C | 20 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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Foggy Dew | Words Canon Charles O’Neill, music Traditional Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: Happy Songs of Death Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes 'Twas down the glen one Easter morn To a city fair rode I. When armed line of marching men In squadrons passed me by. No pipes did hum, no battle drum Did sound their loud tattoo But the Angelus bell o'er the Liffey's swell Rang out through the foggy dew. Right proudly high over Dublin town They hung out the flag of war. For 'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky Than at Suvla or Sud el Bar. And from the plains of Royal Meath Strong men came hurrying through; While Brittania's huns with their long range guns Sailed in through the foggy dew. O' the night fell black and the rifles' crack Made "Perfidious Abion" reel Midst the leaden rail, seven tongues of flame Did shine o'er the lines of steel. By each shining blade a prayer was said That to Ireland her sons be true, And when morning broke still the war flag shook Out its fold 'neath the foggy dew 'Twas England bade our wild geese go That small nations might be free. And their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves On the fringe of the great North Sea. Oh had they died by Pearse's side Or fought with Cathal Brugha, Ah their names we'd keep where the Fenians sleep 'Neath the shroud of the foggy dew. The bravest fell, and the requiem bell Rang mournfully and clear For those who died that Watertide In the springing of the year. The world did gaze with deep amaze At fearless men, but few Who bore the fight that freedom's light Might shine through the foggy dew. Ah, back through the glen I rode again Myy heart with grief was sore For I parted then with valiant men Whom I never shall see no more. And to and fro through dreams I'll go I'll kneel and I'll pray for you, For slavery fled, O the glorious dead, When you fell 'neath the foggy dew. Key Am verse: Am G C Am-C-Am Am G C Am-C-Am C G C Am-C-Am Am G C Am-C-Am | 20 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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Waxie’s Dargle | Words and music Traditional Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: Happy Songs of Death Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes Says my auld one to your auld one Will you go to the Waxie's dargle Says your auld one to my auld one Sure I haven't got a farthing I've went down to Monto town To see Uncle McArdle But he wouldn't lend me a half a crown To go to the Waxie's dargle Chorus: What'll you have, will you have a pint Yes, I'll have a pint with you, sir And if one of us doesn't order soon We'll be thrown out of the boozer Says my auld one to your auld one Will you go to the Galway races Says your auld one to my auld one For the price of my auld lad's braces I went down to Chapel Street To the Jew man money lender But he wouldn't give me a couple bob On my auld lad's red suspenders Says my auld one to your auld one We've got no beef nor mutton Says your auld one to my auld one I'll tell where you get it for nothin' Here's a nice piece of advice I got from an auld fish monger When the food is scarce and you see the hearse You'll know that you died of hunger KEY D verse: D D G G D D G A7 D D G G D A7 D D D D G G D D G A7 D D G G D D D A7 D D | 20 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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I’ll Drink from Dusk Til Dawn | Words and music Marc Gunn Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: Happy Songs of Death Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes Johnny awoke with an ache in his head. Bad dreams had made him ill. And he grumbled as he dressed despite his duress As he made his way to the mill. Oh he never wanted to work that day, But the foreman had himself clear. So Johnny dreamed of the eve to come When he'd drink him beer after beer, Singing... "I'll drink from dusk till dawn I'll drink a toast to day's end. Yes, I'll drink from dusk till dawn And I'll drink to the health of me friends." It was a chilly morning, went straight to his bones Oh, he wished that he had him some ale. Just one fine glass of stout Guiness Would hold him till the end of the trail. Oh his mouth watered with the thought of ale By the time he arrived he'd decide That not even Death could keep him away From his friends and their favorite dive. They'd sing... Johnny worked hard all the day His mind away drinking alone And he told his friends of the pledge he'd made And the fantasy that kept him afloat. "Come hell or high water I'll drink with you Nothing could keep me away." When the day came to end, he left with a friend Together they walked and they sang... On the road they came to a bridge of rope And there they met with a man With a scythe in his hand and an evil grin Tw'as Old Death who cut Johnny down. Johnny's friend crossed himself, swore it'was the truth As he retold the scene to the bar And they all recalled Johnny's last words, "I'll drink come hell or high water!" He sang... Well, the door swung open, a cold wind blew in. And there stood a man unafraid. He called for a beer. They realized when near. It was Johnny come back from the grave. He said, "You could keep me away from work. For there's nothing I live for there. But I told you today of the pledge I made You can't keep a man from his beer," Key G verse: G G G G G G D7 G C G C G C G G-D7-G chorus: C C G G C C G G C C G G C G G-D7-G Background Original ghost story that's also been titled "Johnny at the Door" and "An Irish Drinking Song". | 20 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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Celtic Christmas Elf Conscription Song | by Marc Gunn, Dec 16, 2008 Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: Celtic Christmas Elf Conscription Song Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes Ho ho! Merry Christmas with a rat-ta-ta-tum, The presents we make will bring joy to children. Santa's smiling and stroking his beard with his thumb Come celebrate Christmas with me, with me! Come celebrate Christmas with me! Twas a fortnight following St. Patrick's Day When across the thin veil the Leprechauns came To Shebeg and Sheemore to dance with the fae To join the fine craic until morning. Ol' Lucky was sitting and drinking stout brew When in walked two elves with green hats and red shoes He smiled and said, "Why! How do you do? Pull a seat up and drink here with me." The larger elf said, "Let me buy you a beer. T'was a great Paddy's Day from all that I hear!" The other elf added, "I've a secret to share.Gm Just listen and the next round's on me." Lucky drank his first pint while singing a song. The second pint came as he was feeling quite strong. But the shot of hot whiskey, made him feel all wrong. That's when the elves began to speak. "Kris Kringle sent us to recruit by ourselves. But the Keeblers are busy. S.P.E.W.'s freeing house elves. I guess what we're staying is we've chosen quite well. Your going to the North Pole with me." They dragged him outside. Tied him to a reindeer To the North Pole they flew to serve a full year. You Leprechauns take note of Santa's elves and beware Don't share in the craic of the fae. KEY C chorus: F / / C C Am Dm G C / / F C G C F C G C / verse: C / / F C Am Dm G C / / F C G C / F / / C C Am Dm G C / / F C G C / | 20 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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The Widow and the Devil | Words and music Mick Ryan, Original song name "The Widow's Promise" Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: Kilted For Her Pleasure Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes High atop a lonely moor, a Widow lived alone. An Inn she kept, and as she slept, her pillow heard her moan: "Oh, many's the lonely traveller has spent the night with me, but there's no a man in all creation gives content to me! "Well, some can manage once or twice, and some make three or four; but it seems to me a rarity is the man who can do more. I'd do anything to find him, in Heaven or in Hell." And as she spoke these words, sure, she heard her front door bell. And the wind blew cold and lonely across that Widow's moor, and she never, ever turned away a traveller from the door. So boldly ran the Widow, and the door did open wide, and as she did, a tall and handsome stranger stepped inside. Well, she gave him bread and brandy, and when that he was fed, he said, "My dear, now have no fear; it's time to come to bed. "For I've heard your plea right down below, and I've come to see you right. But you must come to Hell with me if I can last the night." She said, "You randy Devil! To this bargain I'll agree, for Hell on Earth, or Hell in Hell, it's all the same to me!" Now, as they tumbled in the bed, the Devil, he proved well... and he thought before the night would end that she'd be in his Hell. Ah, but when they came to number nine, the Widow cried out, "More!" And when the twelfth time came around, the Widow cried, "Encore!" At twenty-five the Devil felt compelled to take a rest, but the Widow cried, "Come raise your head, and put me to the test!" At sixty-nine, the Widow laughed. "Again! Again!" she cried, and the Devil said, "Well, I can see just how your husband died!" At ninety-nine, the Devil he began to wail and weep. He said, "I'll give you anything, if you'll let me go to sleep!" But before the morning light was up, the Devil hobbled home, and the Widow, still not satisfied, once more was left alone. She lay there on her pillow and she thought on ninety-nine. "It's a pity that poor old Devil couldn't manage one more time! I'll call him up again tonight to see what can be done - with a little more application, we could make it to the ton!" But when she called to him that night, no Devil did appear. For the first time in Eternity, the Devil, he shook with fear. He said, "Of all the torments I've witnessed here in Hell, I never knew what pain was, 'til I rang your front door bell!" | 19 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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St. Patrick Never Drank | Words (c) 2008 M. Spaff Sumsion, music Marc Gunn Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: Kilted For Her Pleasure Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes The 14th day of February's for Saint Valentine September 29th is when Saint Michael's faithful dine On April 23rd we hail Saint George without restraint And come November 1st we cheer for EV'RY bloody saint But none of those can claim the very BEST day of the year 'Cause on March 17th we praise the patron saint of BEER! [Cheers: "Hail St Patrick!" "Slainte!" etc.] But wait! Don't cheer for greenish beer or Irish cream liqueur Be-cause the man you toast was one devout tee-to-tal-ER! Saint Patrick never drank! (Hey!) Saint Patrick never drank! (Hey!) 'Twas only clear, unleaded stuff he poured into his tank! He'd take the cash YOU spend for drafts and stash it in the bank! (Hooray!) Heroic, true, but STOIC too! Saint Patrick never drank! He strode with ancient war-ri-ors from coast to plain to highland His staff he'd shake till ev'ry snake was banished from the island He taught his fans the shamrock stands for Father, Son, and Spirit But don't break out the Guinness Stout - the man would not go near it! Saint Patrick didn't drink! (Hey!) Saint Patrick didn't drink! (Hey!) He never tossed a bracer back or teetered on the brink! So pour another tall one, lad, then pour it down the sink! (Hooray!) With piety, SOBRIETY! Saint Patrick didn't drink! Saint Patrick never drank (Hey!) Saint Patrick never drank (Hey!) So let's be frank: When asked his fav'rite beer, he drew a blank! By gosh, if he could see you sloshed, he'd give your tush a spank! (Hooray!) The guy was swell - but DRY AS HELL! Saint Patrick never drank! No, SAINT - PAT - RICK - NEV - ER - DRANK! Key G first verse: G D G Em G D C G Em G D G chrous: G G G G G G G G C C G D C C G G G G D G verse: G G D G C C G D C C G G G G D G | 19 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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The Mower | Words and music Traditional Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: Kilted For Her Pleasure Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes As I went out one morning on the fourteenth of July I met a maid and I asked her age and she gave me this reply: "I have a little meadow, I've kept for you in store And it's only due, I should tell you true, it never was mowed before" She said: "Me handsome young man, if a mower that you be I give you good employment, so come along with me" Well it was me good employment to wander up and down With me tearing scythe all to contrive to mow her meadow down. Now me courage being undaunted, I stepped out on the ground And with me tearing scythe I then did strive to mow her meadow down I mowed from nine till dinnertime, it was far beyond my skill I was obliged to yield and to quit the field and the grass was growing still. Now the mower she kissed and did pretest, this fair maid bein' so young Her little eyes they glittered like to the rising sun She said: "I'll strive to sharpen your scythe, so set it in me hand And then perhaps you will return again to mow me meadow land." Key Am verse: Bm Bm A Bm A A D-A-Bm A A G-D-A A A D-A-Bm Background Traditional song with a new arrangement by Marc Gunn. | 19 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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Monahan’s Mudder’s Milk | Words and music Marc Gunn, July 19, 2008 Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: Kilted For Her Pleasure Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes (Won't you) Pour me a glass Of Monahan's Mudders Milk We'll wash the mud away. If you poor me a glass Of Monahan's Mudders Milk We'll leave Higgins' damn Moon some day. I was 12 years old When my daddy brought me here With two brothers who loved to laugh, But 10-20 in this muddy hole We lost the laughing muscle mold And my brothers lost their lives to mudders gas. My daddy raised one fist To tell the boss he's pissed, Another to the foreman on third shift, But when he raised his shovel To protest his low wage troubles He was shot down and dumped in a muddy ditch. Well mudden's all I know Until I've 'nough to go And take my own three boys far from here. Maybe another place much worse In this here cold Verse Till then I drink my Monahan's for cheer. Pour me, pour me, mudder, mudder, mudder me, Mudder, mudder me my milk. Poor me, mudder me, mudder, mudder marry me Mudder marry me my milk. Key F Background It all began three years ago when I was introduced to Firefly, a Sci Fi Western by Joss Whedon, creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel. I became a huge fan. The TV series is still one of my most-watched DVDs. One of my favorite episodes is “Jaynestown” where the ruffian Jayne Cobb becomes a folk hero with his own folk song, “Hero of Canton”. I loved it so much, I wanted to write my own Firefly song, but I was too busy watching the show to really spend any time writing about it. Then I was inspired to write “She Said Her Name Was Saffron” for a contest last year. I hoped more songs would come. It didn’t until a couple weeks ago. I finally decided I was gonna write a song about mudder’s milk, the alcoholic drink from “Jaynestown”. The song evolved into a worker’s rights folk song ala Woodie Guthrie. I recorded it, and for the icing on the cake, I got a bunch of Firefly fans to sing back up in the chorus, the way a good drinking song should be sung. | 19 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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Maid Went to the Mill | Words and music Traditional Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: Kilted For Her Pleasure Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes The maid went to the mill last night Hey-hey, so wanton! The maid went to the mill last night Hey, so wanton she! She swore below the stars so bright That she should have her corn ground, She should have her corn ground The miller grinds so free! Then out came the miller's man Hey-hey, so wanton! Out came the miller's man Hey, so wanton he! He swore he'd do the best he can For to get her corn ground For to get her corn ground The miller grinds so free! He bade her rest upon a sack Hey-hey, so wanton! He bade her rest upon a sack Hey, so wanton he! Her maidenhead went with a crack Right well she got her corn ground Right well she got her corn ground The miller grinds so free! It's easy up and easy down Hey-hey, so wanton! It's easy up and easy down Hey, so wanton he! She scarce could tell her corn was ground Right well she got her corn ground Right well she got her corn ground The miller grinds so free! When nine months were passed and gone Hey-hey, so wanton! When nine months were passed and gone Hey so wanton she! This fair young maid brought forth a son Because she'd got her corn ground Because she'd got her corn ground The miller grinds so free! Her mother bade her cast it out Hey-hey, so wanton! Her mother bade her cast it out Hey, so wanton she! It was the miller's dusty clout For getting all her corn ground Getting all her corn ground The miller grinds so free! Her father bade her keep it in Hey-hey, so wanton! Her father bade her keep it in Hey, so wanton he! The miller's man was of a wealthy clan And oh he got her corn ground Oh he got her corn ground The miller grounds so free! This young man must have a nurse Hey-hey, so wanton! This young man must have a nurse Hey so wanton he! So the miller's man drew out his purse Because he got her corn ground Because he got her corn ground The miller grinds so free! Key C | 19 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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Kilted For Her Pleasure | Words and music Marc Gunn Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: Kilted For Her Pleasure Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes I am young Scotsman from Am-er-i-ca The kilt is my pleasure it's true You can call it a skirt, but your lady will flirt If she has a chance she'll leave you. I'm kilted [kilted], kilted [kilted] With the mystery of what's under there I'm kilted [kilted], kilted [kilted] Kilt inspectors will beg, to know my third leg Is free as the fresh morning air I have no red hair, but my skin is quite fair But it does nothing to show off my pride But my Scottish family tree, I wear on me And it makes the ladies giggle and sigh I feel like a man both noble and strong When I dance my kilt swishes in time. But I must confess, it's for the ladies I dress And undress too. Is that a crime? So don your kilt my good Scottish friends And let your flag blow and unwind If they ask what's beneath, your kilted sheath Tell them it's lipstick they'll find. Key D | 19 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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Peggy Gordon | Words and music Traditional Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: The Bridge Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes Oh Peggy Gordon you are my darling, Come sit ye down upon my knee, And tell to me the very reason Why I am slighted so by thee. I'm so in love I cannot deny it, My heart lies smothered in my breast, But It's not for me to let the world know it, A troubled mind has no rest. I wish I was in some lonesome valley, Where woman-kind cannot be found, Where the pretty small birds lie on every branch And every moment a different sound. additional lyrics: I laid my head on a cask of brandy Which was my fancy I do declare, For while I'm drinking, I'm always thinking How I'm to gain that lady fair. I put my back against an oak tree Thinking it was a trusty tree, But first it bent and then it broke, And that's the way my love served me. I wish I was as far as Ingo Way out across the briny sea, A-sailing over the deep blue water Where love nor care never trouble me. Chords: KEY F Background Canadian folk song collected in the 50s in Nova Scotia. | 19 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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The Furball Set | Music by Samantha Gillogly Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: The Bridge Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes Three tunes: Dobby Goes to Dublin (Samantha Gillogly) The Cat in the Corner (Traditional) The Can of Salmon (Samantha Gillogly) | 19 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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Healy Pass | Music by Marc Gunn Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: The Bridge Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes Key verse/chorus: Background Instrumental inspired by the Healy Pass in Ireland. | 19 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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Auld Lang Syne | Words and music Robert Burns Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: The Bridge Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should old acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne? For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll take a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne. And surely you'll buy your pint cup! And surely I'll buy mine! And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet, for auld lang syne. We two have run about the braes, and pulled the gowans fine; But we've wandered many a weary foot, since auld lang syne. We two have paddled in the burn, from morning sun till dine; But seas between us braid hae roared since auld lang syne. And there's a hand my trusty fiere! And give a hand o' thine! And we'll take a right gude-willie-waught, And we'll take a right good-will draught, for auld lang syne. Chords: KEY C verse/chorus: Background It's New Years Eve. I've wanted to record "Auld Lang Syne" for years now. It's just a beautiful song. As I was napping today, I finally came up with a solo arrangement for this classic song by Robert Burns, the national poet of Scotland. | 19 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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Wild Mountain Thyme | Words and music by Francis McPeake Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: The Bridge Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes Oh, the summer time is coming, And the trees are sweetly blooming, And the wild mountain thyme Grows around the blooming heather. Will you go, lassie, will you go? And we'll all go together To pull wild mountain thyme All around the blooming heather, Will you go, lassie, go? I will build my love a bower By yon clear and crystal fountain, And all around the bower, I'll pile flowers from the mountain. I will roam the country o'er Through that dark land so dreary; And all the spoils I find, I'll bring to my darling dearie. If my true love, she won't have me, I will surely find another To pull wild mountain thyme All around the blooming heather. Oh, the summertime is coming And thre trees are blooming And the wild mountain thyme Grows around the blooming heather. Chords: KEY C verse: G-F-C C C F F F F C F G C F F C F chorus: F C F C C F F C C F G C F F F C F C F C Background This song was written by William McPeake and finished by his son Francis. It is based on a much older Scottish song called "The Braes O' Balquhidder". | 19 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
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Beer, Beer, Beer | Music and lyrics traditional Performed by Marc Gunn From CD: Kilted For Her Pleasure Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes A long time ago, way back in history, when all there was to drink was nothin but cups of tea. Along came a man by the name of Charlie Mops, and he invented a wonderful drink and he made it out of hops. He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king, and to his praises we shall always sing. Look what he has done for us he's filled us up with cheer! Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented beer beer beer tiddly beer beer beer. The Curtis bar, the James' Pub, the Hole in the Wall as well one thing you can be sure of, its Charlie's beer they sell so all ye lads a lasses at eleven O'clock ye stop for five short seconds, remember Charlie Mops 1 2 3 4 5 A barrel of malt, a bushel of hops, you stir it around with a stick, the kind of lubrication to make your engine tick. 40 pints of wallop a day will keep away the quacks. Its only eight pence hapenny and one and six in tax, 1 2 3 4 5 He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king, and to his praises we shall always sing. Look what he has done for us he's filled us up with cheer! Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented beer beer beer tiddly beer beer beer. The Lord bless Charlie Mops! Chords: KEY D | 19 12 10 | Free | View In iTunes |
| Total: 24 Episodes |
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The songs
I Hate The Songs I Put It As Lame
