1. |
Paddy's Looking Rough
02:58
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Paddys Looking Rough
His hair is like a whiththorn bush
His shirt is wide open
He turned down his wellington boots
On the day he bought them
They are pouring footings now
Paddys on the shovel
The sweat is pouring out of him
The steel is nearly covered
Chorus
Paddys lookin rough today
Paddys looking rough
He’s a tough as nails they say
Paddys lookin rough
No one sees the hurt
Back home he’s on his own
With his best friend Sailor
The cow is looking in at him
He reads the Daily Mirror
The swallows in the eaves again
How he loves to see them
He doesn’t mind the mess they make
He lets them have their freedom
There was a girl that broke his heart
Its been over fifty years
He followed her to Birmingham
It ended up in tears
He’s bent in two from shovelling
And bringing home the turf
He remembers playing handball
As he’s driving past the church
On his Birth Cert he’s Patrick Joseph
Born in 1951
An Irish soul on the old bog road
On his lonesome way back home
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2. |
Rosie
03:57
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Rosie
The school boy throws a stick
Into the racing river
He wonders will it reach the lake
Or will it sink forever
He sees her in the distance
They meet at Nolans gate
“How many slaps did you get today” ?
She laughed into his face
The sky a wintery grey
Her hair like wisps of silver
Her voice a cartwheel rolling
On a gravel road beneath her
The boy has a heart of gold
Like the blooming whins
The womans heart is broken
By a thousand things
And the talked about the weather
And the big flood in the river
They shared a laugh together
Though the times could have been much better
To the boy she is just Rosie
A wild flower on the side of the road.
With her bundle of kindling
To keep out the winter cold
Like the spray of milk on a empty can
Or a mowing machine in the field
Through the crackle and hiss of kindling sticks
Rosie laughter rings
The river tells the story
The lake looks smaller now
It must be forty years ago
Since the Rosie met the boy
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3. |
Stick to the Books
04:47
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Rosie
The school boy throws a stick
Into the racing river
He wonders will it reach the lake
Or will it sink forever
He sees her in the distance
They meet at Nolans gate
“How many slaps did you get today” ?
She laughed into his face.
The sky a wintery grey
Her hair like wisps of silver
Her voice a cartwheel rolling
On a gravel road beneath her
The boy has a heart of gold
Like the blooming whins
The womans heart is broken
By a thousand things
Chorus
And the talked about the weather
And the big flood in the river
They shared a laugh together
Though the times could have been much better
To the boy she is just Rosie
A wild flower on the side of the road.
With her bundle of kindling
To keep out the winter cold
Like the spray of milk on a empty can
Or a mowing machine in the field
Through the crackle and hiss of the kindling sticks
Rosie laughter rings
The river tells the story
The lake looks smaller now
It must be forty years ago
Since the Rosie met the boy
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4. |
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Leave Room in Your Heart for a Love Song
When your cup is empty and your heart is too
And you are all alone
Sorrow takes up so much room
No one wants to know
Leave room in your heart for a love song
For a song of the downtrodden too
A song for a new day dawning
A song for the rebel in you
Don’t be waiting for that light to shine
It will shine in its own good time
The blue bells buried in the winter clay
Will Blossom in the spring time
You have your dreams, don’t stop dreaming
Don’t let regrets steal your smile
Hold on to your sense of wonder
See how the falcon flies
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5. |
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When the Wheat Sheaves Fly
When the wheat sheaves fly
We will be there you and I
With the sun up in the sky
With our straw hats and twine
When the wheat sheaves fly
When the wheat sheaves fly
On after grass we’ll lie
We’ll drink tea outside
Watching clouds roll by
When the wheat sheave fly
When the wheat sheaves fly
We’ll be two butterflys
We’ll will gently light
On the handle of a scythe
When the wheat sheaves fly
When the wheat sheaves fly
We’ll look back on times
When rivers were alive
Before the the forests cried
When the wheat sheaves fly
When the wheat sheves fly
The hare will quietly lie
In a corner set aside
To let her live her life
When the wheat sheves fly
When the wheat sheaves fly
We’ll sing a lullaby
With those who have a mind
To listen to the wind
When the wheat sheaves fly
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6. |
The Stack of Barley
06:21
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The Stack of Barley
I was driving' with my daddy in a beetle towards the sun
On a stony high walled boreen spring times work yet undone
You could hear the cattle lowing and the sky was burning red
Daddy whispered something simple just to make our presence felt
And they played the Stack of Barley
And I drank their lemonade
Me and my Daddy and the men who worked the clay
I could hear their voices echo as they walked across the clay
Their garden was as perfect as the tunes they would play
We loaded up the beetle talked of winters just gone by
We stepped inside their kitchen threw some turf upon the fire
As they started playing music Daddy looked across at me
There was something special happening years later I would see
I watched their fingers dancing on the buttons and the bow
The hobnails joined in rhythm left their marks upon my soul
Though I didn't understand it my heart it jumped with joy
To see the men of hay and clay so foolishly employed
At the fair day in November we put the cattle on the train
I found myself in Bridge Street staring at accordians
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7. |
For a Better Life
04:13
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For a Better Llfe
We were cave people
Making fire
in the night
Lighting the way
To a better life
We were stone carriers
We were stone breakers
For a while
Paving the way
For a better life
We have come a long long way
A mighty long way
To be here today
To be where they are today
For a better life
We were iron age people
Forging iron hooks
Clearing lines
Through the land
For a better life
We travelled onwards
O’er land and sea
for miles and miles
Always searching
For a better life
We walked barefoot on stubble
In the fields
Reaping and binding
Feeding our children
For a better life
Day and night we were working
In factories and in rigs
And mines
Fueling progress
For a better life
We fought each other
In Wars and battles
Taking sides
Winning and loosing
For a better life
We listened to thunder
To false prophets
And their lies
We were seeking the truth
For a better life
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8. |
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Sunday Morning whiskey songs
We were free and easy on a Sunday morning
Just got back from walking the prom
AS A kid pulled on the old church bell
We rambled into the Warick Hotel
The bar quiet when we went in
I ordered a whiskey you ordered a gin
Then he open his case and he opened his mouth
His Texas drawl cam tumbling out
He said it was his house guitar
As he strummed the Tacackamine first few bars
With every word he drew us in
We felt his joy we felt his pain
Sunday morning whiskey songs
Spilled out on the bar room floor
If precious time could be melted down
I’d have take those hours with you and Townes
We left the place and wandered on
Round the city’s ancient walls
Grateful on a Sunday mornin
Grateful for the “Sake of the song”
Just a handful of people in a Hotel bar
Were there that morn to hear Townes guitar
In 97 he passed away
Some memories never fade
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9. |
Saint Cecilia
03:30
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St Cecilia
Thank you St Ceclia for showing me, showing me the keys
For Raising my hand to play a chord
Even though it was A minor
And that a country boy could play piano
And that a cormorant could be a sandpiper
And that the seagull needs no tide table to know
When the tide is in.
Thank you Aengus Kelly for the piece of paper with the three chords for the “Jug of Punch”
And the welcoming house by the river
Where we sang “The Sloop John B”
And Frank hit them high Gene Pitney notes
And We were bound for glory
I heard Woody Guthrie singing “This land was made for you and me”
Where would I be with no song in my head
With words left unsaid
With chords flying round
Making no sound
Falling to the ground
Like leaves from apple trees
Thank you Mairt McGuire for giving me, giving me the love of words
The lines above “Tintern Abbey”
The rhymes and the metaphors
And “Ariels Song”, “Pied beauty” and “The Cloths of Heaven”
And then the song poets with their skipping reels of rhyme
And my pen moved on the paper with some stuttering lines of my own
Thank you all you dreamers
The broken souls the lost and found swapping tunes
And those who listen to the song
Of the skylark
And Eddie who whistled “Banish Misfortune” in my ear
And for all those who have gone but their songs live on
I want to sing out loud the highest of the high Dohs
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10. |
Woodbine and Wild Roses
03:11
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Woodbine and Wild Roses
Honey suckle on the roadside
On our way home from school
I wonder does it still grow there
Or cut down by some fool
They said wild flowers need trimming
To let the drivers see
So life can go by faster
As they drive around the bend
And Wild flowers don’t give up easy
They won’t lie down and die
We were Woodbine and wild roses
On a roadside in July.
We were cut down in the Summer
They cut us down to size
Innocent wild flowers
Back in 1965
And Wild flowers don’t give up easy
They won’t lie down and die
We were Woodbine and wild roses
On a roadside in July.
We grew older and grew wiser
Summer after summertime
Every time they cut us put us down
We stood back up again
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11. |
St.Stephens Day
03:31
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St Stephen’s Day
As I drove out on St Stephens Day
To let my thought run free
I drove my car in betwen
The mountains and the sea
Between the mountains and the sea
As I walked along the shore
You sprung in my mind
I thought of the school yard where we played
And the times we left behind
And the times we left behind
JFK was shot in in sixty three
We offered up a prayer
The church and state in one bed lay
And we were saving hay
And we were saving the hay
We left our homes to face the world
We stumbled sometimes fell
I fell into the drifters ways
You fell into hell
You fell into hell
It must be fifty years ago
There no hay in the hayshed now
Shame and guilt have been put to bed
Its good to talk things out
its good to talk things out
Well the devil didn’t get his way
You beat him in the end
Winter holds no discontent
Your looking forward to the spring
Your looking forward to the spring
Driving home in winter sun
The mountains looked so clear
I saw a message on my phone
Wishing me a Happy New Year
T’was you wishing me a happy new year
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12. |
I Went But I Never Left
03:06
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I Went But I Never Left
Blue skies and white Swans
Chalk dust on my hands on December nights
And a broken toy wheelbarrow
You tried to fix it with a kitchen knife
We’re all part of what came before
Down on our knees
Playing marbles on a stone floor
A hissing radio
A draught under the door
Twas my turn to throw
We’re all part of what came before
I went but never left
I never left home
I walked a many the road
I went but I didn’t go
Winter evenings
Bags of trurf for the Stanley nine
Overcoats hung on the back door
Blue glass rosary beads
And brown scapulars and
We’re all part of whats gone before
I try to smell the roses now
All else is just memories
A “lucky bag” full of dreams
Feel your hand on the door
Feel your feet on the floor
We’re all part of whats gone before
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13. |
The Songs Live On
02:49
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The Songs Live On
The traveller boy is singing
In an alley up the town
Smoke rises from the Thurible
Round the coffin of Seaneen Brown
“Take Seaneen now to his place of rest”
The church bell slowly rings
They walk in pairs behind the hearse
An old Mercedes Benz
Hear the footsteps moving
The shop front doors are closed
They pause for a while outside the shop
Where he sold his first suit of clothes
A voice it did resound
From an alley up the town
“Come all ye loyal heroes”
Twas Seaneen’s favourite song
The songs live on
When we are dead and gone
When all is said and done
The songs live on
“My curse attend you Sweeney”
Words Fell on the tarmac road
1000 years of singing
In the boys ancestral bones
“My heart is always trembling “
He sings as the hearse draws near
He lowered his song to a whisper
Turned the ballad to a prayer
Seaneen is at rest now
The traveller boy is gone
He never did return again
To sing the rocks of Bawn
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14. |
Back Here on the Farm
03:42
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Back here on the farm
The leaves are unfolding
The wild flowers growing
Its time to let sleeping dogs lie
Here on the farm
Back here on the farm
Night time in the barn
Watching falling stars
Burying hatchets from long forgotten wars
Here on the farm
Back here on the farm
Nowhere is where were going
The cup is overflowing
Those fences have been mended that were broken
Here on the farm
Back here on the farm
Stuff we don’t want to see
We don’t turn on the tv
We hear truth in the summer breeze
Here on the farm
Back here on the farm
Time is slowly drifting
The noise of life is lifting
All that’s gone before no use no more
Here on the farm
Back here on the farm
Done with all this racing
This running and chasing
Doing what others do cause your supposed to
Here on the farm
Back here on the farm
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Tony Reidy
Tony Reidy is from Co Mayo Ireland
His songs have been played on RTE Radio1,TG4 RnaG,
BBC
Radio
Music press quotes,
“enormous talent as a songwriter.”
Aidan O Hara…. Irish Music magazine
“A powerful Questioning voice for the ordinary man….Colin Irwin.. fRoots
“His keen compassionate eye for human frailty …His songs have a pungently poetic sense of place”….
Jon Lusk … BBC Music Magazine.
... more
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