

|
The Minstrel Boys |
|
Songs of the Civil War |
|
Recreating the role of the Irish in the American Civil War 1861-65 |
The Rose of AlabamyAway from Mississippi's vale,With my ol' hat there for a sail,I crossed upon a cotton baleTo Rose of Alabamy.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - CHORUS:Oh brown Rosie,Rose of Alabamy!A sweet tobacco poseyIs my Rose of Alabamy.A sweet tobacco poseyIs my Rose of Alabamy.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -Oh, arter d'rectly bye and bye,The moon rose white as Rosie's eye;Then like a young coon out so slyStole Rose of Alabamy.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I said "Sit down just where you please."Upon my lap she took her ease."It's good to go upon the knees,"Said Rose of Alabamy. |
The river rose; the cricket sang,The lightnin' bug did flash his wing;Then like a rope my arms I fling,'Round Rose of Alabamy.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - We hugged how long I cannot tell.My Rosie seemed to like it well.My banjo in the river fell.Oh Rose of Alabamy- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Like alligator after prey,I jump in, but it float away,And all the while it seem to say,"Oh Rose of Alabamy."- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Now every night come rain or shower,I hunt that banjo for an hour;And see my sweet tobacco flower,Oh, Rose of Alabamy.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Oh fare thee well, you belles of Spain,And fare thee well to Liza Jane!Your charms will all be put to shame,By Rose of Alabamy.
|
|
Well it’s by the Hush Well it's by the hush, me boys, and sure that's to hold your noise And listen to poor Paddy's sad narration I was by hunger pressed, and in poverty distressed So I took a thought I'd leave the Irish nation - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Here's to you boys, now take my advice To America I'll have ye's not be going There is nothing here but war, where the murderin' cannons roar And I wish I was at home in dear old Dublin - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Well I sold me ass and cow, my little pigs and sow My little plot of land I soon did part with And me sweetheart Bid McGee, I'm afraid I'll never see For I left her there that morning broken-hearted - - - - - - — - - - — - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Well meself and a hundred more, to America sailed o'er Our fortunes to be made we were thinkin' When we got to Yankee land, they shoved a gun into our hands Saying "Paddy, you must go and fight for Lincoln" - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - General Meagher to us he said, if you get shot or lose your head Every murdered soul of youse will get a pension Well meself I lost me leg, they gave me a wooden peg, And by God this is the truth to you I mention - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Well I think meself in luck, to get fed on Indian buck And old Ireland is the country I delight in With the devil, I do say, it's curse Americay For I think I've had enough of your hard fightin'
|