G'day again,

After I (re-)sent the thread under a less pun strewn title, it occurred to me that I should at least let you see what I have in my hand, especially since none of these traditional songs appear in the database (at least, i can't find them).

For the Vin Garbutt song 'Road to Youghal'(?), I have almost all the words and the few I can't make out I have placed in brackets.

Regards,

Bob Bolton

THE ROAD TO YOUGHAL
Presumably Irish Traditional
As sung by Vin Garbutt

As I rode to Youghal, last Sunday morning,
A maiden passed me on the road along,
Her cheeks did glow like the rose at dawning,
Her voice did ring like a fairy song.
Me arms around her I'm greatly daring,
I begged a kiss, ere she went away.
Said she; "No! Stop, for me coat you're tearin'
And what, young man, would your dear wife say?"

"Ah faith," said I, "but I'm never married,
I'm just a young lad of twenty-three,
I had some plans, but they all miscarried,
So come and settle down along with me.
All that I own is for you to share
... I've got food aplenty and clothes galore,
So tend with me and we'll (thrice) to Youghal and
You'll never want for a thing no more.

"Kind sir," said she, "I'll be not returning,
I've just departed from Youghal this day,
I've left my home, aye, with anger burning,
And not a one was there to say me nay.
To me a tinkerman, I'll go me own way
And on me travels, I will now begin.
I'm just a young girl, who's sad and lonely
And on the roadway to Cappoquin.

I'll sit beside you, your grief to lighten,
I'll put me arm around your waist (astore?),
And in a while, she began to brighten,
With hugs and kisses and the devil knows more.
For an hour and a half, I contrived to warm her,
I then departed for Youghal again.
"Goodbye," says I, "me pleasant charmer."
I left her walking on to Cappoquin.

MORETON BAY
(John Manifold version)

One Sunday morning as I went walking,
By Brisbane Waters I chanced to stray,
I heard a prisoner his fate bewailing,
As on the sunny riverbanks he lay.
I am a native of Erin's Island,
And banished now from my native shore,
They tore me from my aged parents
And from the maiden whom I do adore.

I've been a prisoner at Port Macquarie,
At Norfolk Island and Emu Plains.
At Castle Hill and at cursed Toongabbie,
At all those settlements I've worked in chains.
But of all places of condemnation,
And penal stations of New South Wales,
To Moreton Bay I have found no equal,
Excessive tyranny each day prevails.

For three long years I was beastly treated,
And heavy irons on my legs I wore;
My back with flogging is lacerated
And often painted with my crimson gore.
And many a man from downright starvation
Lies mouldering now underneath the clay,
And Captain Logan he had us mangled
At the triangles of Moreton Bay.

Like the Egyptians and ancient Hebrews
We were oppressed under Logan's yoke,
Till a native black lying there in ambush
Did give our tyrant his mortal stroke.
My fellow prisoners be exhilarated
That all such monsters such a death must find,
And when from bondage we are extricated,
Our former sufferings shall fade from mind.

I will keep this down to only one volume: if anyone is interested I will also post the variant lyrics from Simon MacDonald, but not this time around. (Translation: I need to find the file with the words - not type them from what is left of my memory.)