Poetry/ Songs - Assembly

Liathróid I bPáirc an Chrócaigh Preabann sí, casann sí, Léimeann sí timpeall, Speachtar í Buailtear í Ard agus íseal, Amanna tapaidh, Uaireanta mall, Suas agus síos, Sall is anall, Istigh sa chúl, Thar an trasnán, Croitear na bratacha Glas agus bán; Ag luí ar an talamh Nó ag eitilt san aer – Screadadh is béiceadh Ón slua go léir. Éamonn Ó Ríordáin

Beidh aonach amárach Beidh aonach amárach i gContae an Chláir. Beidh aonach amárach i gContae an Chláir. Beidh aonach amárach i gContae an Chláir. Cé mhaith dom é, ní bheidh mé ann.

Curfá: 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé Curfá: 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé? 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé? 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé? 'S a mhuirnín ó ná héiligh é.

Níl tú a deich nó a haon déag fós. Níl tú a deich nó a haon déag fós Níl tú a deich nó a haon déag fós. Níl tú a deich nó a haon déag fós. Níl tú a deich nó a haon déag fós. Nuair a bheidh tú trí déag beidh tú mór.

Curfá: 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé Curfá: 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé? 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé? 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé? 'S a mhuirnín ó ná héiligh é.

Táim-se i ngrá le gréasaí bróg. Táim-se i ngrá le gréasaí bróg Táim-se i ngrá le gréasaí bróg. Táim-se i ngrá le gréasaí bróg. Táim-se i ngrá le gréasaí bróg. Mur' bhfaigh mé é ní bheidh mé beo.

Curfá: 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé Curfá: 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé? 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé? 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé? 'S a mhuirnín ó ná héiligh é.

B’fhearr liom féin, mo ghréasaigh bróg Ná oifigeach airm faoi lásaí óir.

Curfá: 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé Curfá: 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé? 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé? 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé? 'S a mhuirnín ó ná héiligh é.

Beidh aonach amárach i gContae an Chláir Beidh aonach amárach i gContae an Chláir. Beidh aonach amárach i gContae an Chláir. Beidh aonach amárach i gContae an Chláir. Cé mhaith dom é, ní bheidh mé ann.

Curfá: 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé Curfá: 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé? 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé? 'S a mháithrín, an ligfidh tú chun aonaigh mé? 'S a mhuirnín ó ná héiligh é.

Saw My Teacher On a Saturday by Dave Crawley Saw my teacher on a Saturday! I can’t believe it’s true! I saw her buying groceries, like normal people do! She reached for bread and turned around, and then she caught my eye. She gave a smile and said, “Hello.” I thought that I would die!

“Oh, hi…hello, Miss Appleton,” I mumbled like a fool “Oh, hi…hello, Miss Appleton,” I mumbled like a fool. I guess I thought that teacher types spend all their time at school. To make the situation worse, my mom was at my side. So many rows of jars and cans. So little room to hide.

Oh please, I thought, don’t tell my mom what I did yesterday Oh please, I thought, don’t tell my mom what I did yesterday! I closed my eyes and held my breath and hoped she’d go away. Some people think it’s fine to let our teachers walk about. But when it comes to Saturdays, they shouldn’t let them out!

Tell me Ma Chorus Tell me Ma when I go home, The boys won't leave the girls alone. They'll pull my hair, they stole my comb, Well that's alright till I go home. She is handsome. She is pretty. She is the bell of Belfast City. She is courtin' one, two, three. Please won't you tell me, who is she? (X2)

Albert Mooney say's he loves her. All the boy's are fighting for her Albert Mooney say's he loves her. All the boy's are fighting for her. They knock at the door and ring at the bell "Oh my true love, are you well"? Out she comes as white as snow, Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes. Ole Jenny Murray says she'll die If you don't get the fella With the roving eye. Chorus

Let the wind and the rain and hail blow high And the snow come tumbling from the sky, She's as nice as apple pie. She'll get her own lad by and by. When she gets a lad of her own, She won't tell her Ma till she comes home. Let them all come as they will For it's Albert Mooney she loves still.

I'll tell me Ma when I go home, The boys won't leave the girls alone I'll tell me Ma when I go home, The boys won't leave the girls alone. They'll pull my hair, they stole my comb, Well that's alright till I go home. She is handsome. She is pretty. She is the bell of Belfast City. She is courtin' one, two, three. Please won't you tell me, who is she? (X2)

Tell me, tell me, tell me, who is she?