| An Rógaire Dubh (The Black Rogue) | The Bogs of Shanaheever |
(The Black Rogue)
Sung like the tune of the same name
|
Irish |
English |
|
Tá mo stoca is mo bhróga ag an rógaire dubh, (3 times) Mo naipicín póca le bliain sa lá inniu. |
The black
rogue has taken my socks and shoes (3 times)
And my pocket handkerchief, a year ago today. |
|
Portaireacht (Chorus) Hi diddle di diddle hi diddle diddle dum Hi diddle di diddle hi diddle do Ta rum diddle dum diddle dum diddle dum do Ta riddle dum diddle dum diddle dum do |
Portaireacht |
|
Tá nead insa sliabh ag an rógaire dubh, (3 times) Ní ghabhfaidh sé an bóthar ach cóngar an chnoic. |
The black rogue has a nest in the mountain (3 times) He won't travel by road, but takes the shorcut over the hill. |
| Portaireacht | Portaireacht |
| Dá bhfeicteása
Máire taobh eile den tsruth, (3 times) Is a dhá chois in airde ag an rógaire dubh! |
If you were to see Máire on the far side of the stream (3 times) And the her two legs high up in the air |
| Portaireacht | Portaireacht |
My young life has passed, which makes me feel dreary
When in exile I'm cast on the wilds of the prairie.
There to hunt the Buffalo, the panther and the beaver
But my thoughts wander back to the Bogs of Shanaheever.
Tommy, Andy and Eoin in my absence make ready.
By the early morning moon get the dogs out and ready.
And make no delay, but be fast and clever very clever.
And wee'l have a fine day's coursing, on the Bogs of Shanaheever.
In London for years, Ryan spoke of Susannah
And young Willie Ayer, he would boast of Diana
But the truth to you I'll tell , there is none of them I'd favour
I'd give Victor the sway, on the Bogs of Shanaheever.
From the shores of Lough Annagh to the plains of Benbricken
And beneath the red sun, my poor heart was ticking
Went to make for Letterdean, but the boys they did'nt favour
So we crossed by the hill to the Bogs of Shanaheever.
The course it was rough, but those dogs they were strong winded
And of each silvery hound, oh the hunting it was splendid.
Those 2-year old dogs were both knacky good and clever.
They ran over the bog, to their death in Shanaheever.
The day that Victor died, my coursing days were over.
I sat down and cried, like a heartbroken lover.
I laid Victor in his grave and I left him there forever.
Paid my passage to New York, from the Bogs of Shanaheever.
Oh Ireland, my love, I will think of you forever.
There is no place on Earth, I would like with such great fervour.
And when She is free, I'll come back again to see Her
And I'll spend my days a-coursing on the Bogs of Shanaheever
