Nuff said

[mike edwards66]

If you want to know what real Irish music should sound like, this is it.

..

God Love 'em, God Bless 'em. Nuff said.

[keninlincs]

Quality.

[mike edwards66]

Quality.

Glad you liked it, Ken. It's one of them, better felt than telt. Nuff said.

[mike edwards66]

OK. One more for the Irish. The craic (crack) was mighty. Nuff said.

..

[mike edwards66]

By God, this fella can play the accordion. His name is Seamus Shannon and he can rattle it. And the dancers take no prisoners either. Enjoy:

..

[Hard Rocker]

As someone once said, "I think this is the saddest song I've ever heard"...

..

Lyrics
Oh she dressed in the dark
And she whispered amen
She was pretty in pink
Like a young girl again

Twenty years married
And she never thought twice
She sneaked out the door
And walked into the night

And silver wings carried her
Over the sea
From the west coast of Ireland
To West Tennessee

To be with her sweetheart,
Oh she left everything
From Galway to Graceland to be with the king

She was humming Suspicion,
That's the song she liked best
She had Elvis I Love You
Tattooed on her breast

When they landed in Memphis,
Well, her heart beat so fast
She'd dreamed for so long,
Now she'd see him at last

She was down by his graveside
Day after day
Come closing time they
Would pull her away

Ah to be with her sweetheart,
Oh she'd left everything
From Galway to Graceland to be with the king

Ah, they came in their thousands
From the whole human race
To pay their respects
At his last resting place

But blindly she knelt there
And she told him her dreams
And she thought that he answered
Or that's how it seems

Then they dragged her away
It was handcuffs this time
She said "my good man are you out of your mind?"
Don't you know that we're married?

See, I'm wearing his ring.
From Galway to Graceland to be with the king.
I come From Galway to Graceland to be with the king.

[mike edwards66]

As someone once said, "I think this is the saddest song I've ever heard"...

..

Lyrics
Oh she dressed in the dark
And she whispered amen
She was pretty in pink
Like a young girl again

Twenty years married
And she never thought twice
She sneaked out the door
And walked into the night

And silver wings carried her
Over the sea
From the west coast of Ireland
To West Tennessee

To be with her sweetheart,
Oh she left everything
From Galway to Graceland to be with the king

She was humming Suspicion,
That's the song she liked best
She had Elvis I Love You
Tattooed on her breast

When they landed in Memphis,
Well, her heart beat so fast
She'd dreamed for so long,
Now she'd see him at last

She was down by his graveside
Day after day
Come closing time they
Would pull her away

Ah to be with her sweetheart,
Oh she'd left everything
From Galway to Graceland to be with the king

Ah, they came in their thousands
From the whole human race
To pay their respects
At his last resting place

But blindly she knelt there
And she told him her dreams
And she thought that he answered
Or that's how it seems

Then they dragged her away
It was handcuffs this time
She said "my good man are you out of your mind?"
Don't you know that we're married?

See, I'm wearing his ring.
From Galway to Graceland to be with the king.
I come From Galway to Graceland to be with the king.

Thanks for posting that, good bud. I know Galway well. I haven't heard that before, and I like it.

[Hard Rocker]

It's a great ol' song for the Salthill prom.

[mike edwards66]

It's a great song for the Salthill prom.

Gee-zus! You know your stuff.

[Hard Rocker]

You know it.

[mike edwards66]

Written back in the 1850s by a man called Watt Murphy, a hedge school teacher in South Kilkenny at the time. He took a shine to the local parson's daughter, Elizabeth, also known as Molly. There was a big age difference between Molly who was 20 years old at the time and Watt, who was 56. They were both intellectuals and their love knew no bounds. And it wasn't to be, she was exiled to England by her dad. Watt Murphy was broken hearted and wrote this poem in her memory. It's a beautiful song:

..

[mike edwards66]

If a cow is born in a stable, does it make it a horse. English-born Irish vocalist Shane MacGowan, raw Irish punk. You'll be singing this tomorrow. Enjoy:

..

“St. John of Gods” provides a remarkable degree of complexity with a few simple components. McGowan’s lyric is in the British and Irish folk-revival tradition of sentimental odes to tragic street figures. Here, because of MacGowan’s voice and reputation, the distance between the speaker and the figure is less certain. The verses trace three bare scenes in the life of a far-gone drunk, whose only words are the song’s refrain:

See the man
The crushed up man
With the crushed up Carrolls packet in his hand
Doesn’t seem to see or care
Or even understand
And all he says is:
“F yez all, F yez all
F yez all, F yez all.”

This chorus ultimately gives way to “St. John of Gods” as an alternative mantra. St. John of God is a psychiatric clinic in a southern suburb of Dublin, run since 1882 by the religious order of that name. Though it offers a range of services, it is best known for alcoholism treatment. The legend of the original St. John of God, a 16th-century Portuguese monk, holds that following a dramatic conversion experience, he was locked up in an asylum for the insane and mistreated. This inspired him to spend the rest of his life caring for street people who were ignored as being beyond help and abused for being troublesome.

https://pointsadhsblog.wordpress.com/2011/04/19/clinical-sentiments-part-2-shane-mcgowan/

[mike edwards66]

Beautiful. Nuff said. Enjoy:

[Scarre]

Hmmm... Wonder how Hard Rocker is doing