Back to Contents

Do your best for one another

In this world I have gained my knowledge

And for it I had to pay

Although I never went to College,

Yet I hear the poet say

Life is but a mighty river rolling on from day to day,

Men with vessels launch upon it

Some times wrecked and cast away.

Many a bright poor hearted fellow,

Many a noble minded man,

Finds himself in waters shallow

Go assist him if you can,

Some succeeds at every turning

Fortune favours every squall,

Others not a friend or not a shilling,

Pulling hard against them all.

Now if the wind blow in your favour

And you wither every squall,

Think of those with luckless labour

Never yet fair winds at all,

Working hard discontented

Struggling on through oceans wide,

Not yet a friend or not a shilling

Pulling hard against the tide.

Now don’t give way to foolish sorrow,

This should keep you in good cheer.

Brighter days will come to-morrow

if we try and persevere.

The longest night will have a morning,

Though the sky is overcast.

And the longest lane will have a turning,

And the tide will turn at last.

Did you ever have sciatica or ever feel the pain.

I’d rather be in jail myself than feel that pain again.

My poor old bones oh how they ache I’ll have you all to know

I was cured in Lisdoonvarna where the sulphur water flows.

Says I unto my doctor, it was on a Wednesday night,

‘If I go to Lisdoonvarna do you think I’ll get alright’.

He paused a while and then he said in a voice so soft and low,

‘You’ll be cured in Lisdoonvarna where the sulphur water flows’.

When I arrived in Lisdoonvarna I was as cranky as the cats,

I drank the sulphur water and I had some sulphur baths,

And before the week was over I’ll have you all to know,

I was courting in the town where the sulphur water flows.

And while in Lisdoonvarna I did enjoy the life,

Dancing at the Thomond Hall, I met my future wife,

We capered and we courted and I’ll have you all to know

We were enjoyed in Lisdoonvarna where the sulphur water flows.

And now dear boys I’m back again in a better state of mind,

I can’t forget the happy days, the days I left behind,

But pleasant days will come again next please God we’ll go

And spend our honeymoon dear boys where the sulphur water flows.

I’m growing old and feeble and I cannot work no more

My rusty bladed hoe I’ve laid to rest

My master and my missus they are lying side by side

And their spirits now are roaming with the blessed.

Things have changed about the place, the darkies are all gone

No more I’ll hear them singing in the cane

And the only one that’s left me is this little boy of mine

In the little old log cabin down the lane.

Now Daddy don’t be so sad and melancholy now

There are bright and happy days for you in store

You’re growing old and feeble but your boy in young and strong

He will love and cherish you for evermore.

Dear child I’m quite contented for the time will quickly come

When we must leave this world of earthly pain

And the angels they will waft us to their bright and happy home

From this little old log cabin down the lane.

‘Mid pleasure and palaces though we may roam

Be it ever so humble there is no place like home

A charm from the skies seem to hallow us there

We walk through the world it ne’er met with elsewhere.

An exile from home splendour dazzles in vain,

Oh give me my lowly thatched cottage again,

The birds singing gaily that come at my call

Give me this sweet sweet peace or my dearest of all.

Oh I know a wee spot ‘tis a place of great fame,

And it lies to the North, now I’ll tell you its name;

‘Tis my own native birthplace, and it’s on Irish soil,

Sure they call it lovely Derry on the banks of the Foyle.

Now I courted a wee girl her age was nineteen,

She was the fairest colleen that ever you’ve seen;

For her cheeks were like roses, and her hair waved in coil,

And she came from lovely Derry on the banks of the Foyle.

But now cruel misfortune drove me from my home,

‘Twas my fate in deep sorrow to said o’er the foam;

And now from dark strangers, in grief I recoil,

While I pine from dear old Derry on the banks of the Foyle.

Oh, mind when I left her, for to cross o’er the sea,

For to try to make a fortune, for Mary and me;

How I cried when I left her, but my tears fell in toil,

Far away from dear old Derry on the banks of the Foyle.

I was young, I was foolish, like the rest of the boys,

I had not many sorrows, nor yet many joys;

I worked hard for a living, all day I did toil,

Far away from lovely Derry on the bank of the Foyle.

In Oranmore in the County Galway,

One Pleasant evening in the month of May,

I spied a damsel, she was young and handsome –

Her beauty fairly took my breath away.

We kept on walking, she kept on talking,

‘Till her father’s cottage came into view.

Says she: "Come in sir, and meet my father,

And play to please him ‘The Foggy Dew’."

Well I played "The Blackbird," and "The Stack of Barley,"

"Rodney’s Glory" and "The Foggy Dew,"

She sang each note like an Irish linnet,

Whilst the tears stood in her eyes of blue.

‘Twas early, early, all in the morning,

When I hit the road for old Donegal.

She said "Goodbye, sir," she cried and kissed me,

And my remained with that Galway shawl.

Somebody said it couldn’t be done,

But he with a chuckle replied,

Said "Maybe it couldn’t", but he would be one

That wouldn’t say so ‘till he tried.

So he started right in without trace of a grin,

On his face if he suffered he hid it,

He started to sing as he tackled the thing

That couldn’t be done and he did it.

Thousands to tell you it cannot be done,

Thousands to prophesy failure,

Thousands to name for you one by one

The dangers that wait to asail you.

But just you start in without trace of a grin,

And take off your coat and go to it,

Then start in to sing as you tackle the thing

That couldn’t be done and you did it.

POEM.

Drive the nail aright boys! Hit it on the head.

Work with all your might boys, while the iron is red.

When you have work to do boys, do it with a will,

They who reach the top boys, first must climb the hill.

Standing at the foot boys, gazing at the sky,

How can you get up boys, if you never try?

Though you stumble oft’ boys, never be downcast.

Try and try again boys, and you’ll succeed at last.

Next