ADD: Irish Lords (Souter, Wyndham-Read)

Subject: lyrics req.... Ivanhoe?
From: patriot1314
Date: 02 Mar 05 - 05:23 AM

I've been searching for an Aystralian song which I think is called "The Road to Ivanhoe"
Can anyone help?... guitar chords would be a bonus too.
Another on my wish list is a Scottish song which I don't know the title of but it begins.....
Well the old folks gar'd me cobble but my cobblin' days are done.
Sin' mairried in tae siller noo I'm by wi' bits and shoon

Thanks in anticipation

Subject: RE: lyrics req.... Ivanhoe?
From: Brakn
Date: 02 Mar 05 - 06:09 AM

"Ivanhoe" theme song:
"Ivanhoe, Ivanhoe to adventure, bold adventure, watch him go;
There's no power on earth can stop what he's begun;
With Bart and Gurth, he fights till he has won;
Ivanhoe, Ivanhoe ..."

Form this site.

Subject: RE: lyrics req.... Ivanhoe?
From: Brakn
Date: 02 Mar 05 - 06:09 AM

from!

Subject: Lyr Add: IRISH LORDS (Souter, Wyndham-Read)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 04 Mar 05 - 12:10 AM

Maybe the song you want is this one, copied from the website of The Wongawilli Band:

IRISH LORDS
Words, Charles C. Souter. Music, Martyn Wyndham-Read.

The barley grass was two feet high, the billabongs were full,
The brolgas danced a minuet, the world seemed made of wool,
The nights were never wearisome, the days were never slow,
When first I went to Irish Lords, on the road to Ivanhoe.

The frost was on the barley grass as we passed the homestead rails,
A darling jackass piped us in, with his turns and trills and scales,
Youth and health and happiness, sat on the saddle bow,
And Mary lived at Irish Lords, on the road to Ivanhoe.

And everywhere was happiness, the fates were fair and kind,
We drank the very wine of life, we never looked behind,
And Mary, Mary everywhere, was flitting to and fro,
When first we went to Irish Lords, on the road to Ivanhoe.

The window on a leafy byre, where the golden banksia grew,
Stared like a dead man's glassy eye, for the roof had fallen through,
No flowers in her garden-bed, and her voice stilled long ago,
When last I went to Irish Lords, on the road to Ivanhoe.

"Irish Lords" is a well-known sheep station near Ivanhoe in the far west of NSW. It was originally a poem by Charles H. Souter from the 1860s set to music by English folk singer Martyn Wyndham Read. The verse was sent to Martyn in England by Mary Ball of Melbourne and he claims to have collaborated by telepathy with the author.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: 'Road to Ivanhoe'? / Irish Lords
From: patriot1314
Date: 07 Mar 05 - 09:52 AM

That's exactly the song Jim, Thank you

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: 'Road to Ivanhoe'? / Irish Lords
From: GUEST,Mingulay at work
Date: 07 Mar 05 - 11:01 AM

Recorded by Martyn Wyndham-Read on (I think) Mussels on a Tree.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: 'Road to Ivanhoe'? / Irish Lords
From: Moses
Date: 07 Mar 05 - 11:19 AM

A great CD and well worth getting hold of - or, even better, see Martyn in person, there's more to the man than just a wonderful voice. His stories and bush poetry have to be heard first-hand!!

And he's a nice bloke.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Irish Lords (Souter, Wyndham-Read)
From: GUEST
Date: 13 Oct 25 - 07:58 AM

Unfortunately, the words of Soutar’s gorgeous poem have been altered along the way, and not for the better.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Irish Lords (Souter, Wyndham-Read)
From: GUEST,Jockey in the saddle
Date: 13 Oct 25 - 08:34 AM

If you provide us with the original words, we can make our own judgement.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Irish Lords (Souter, Wyndham-Read)
From: Reinhard
Date: 13 Oct 25 - 12:25 PM

IRISH LORDS

Charles Henry Souter
The Bulletin, 7 December 1901, page 30

The clover burr was two feet high, and the billabongs were full,
The brolgas danced a minuet, and the world seemed made of wool!
The nights were never wearisome and the days were never slow
When first we came to "Irish Lords" on the road to Ivanhoe!

The rime was on the barley-grass as we passed the homestead rails,
A Darling jackass piped us in, with his trills and turns and scales,
And youth and health and carelessness sat on the saddle-bow,
--And Mary lived at "Irish Lords", on the road to Ivanhoe!

On every hand was loveliness, and the Fates were fair and kind;
We drank the very wine of life, and we never looked behind;
And Mary! Mary everywhere, was flitting to and fro,
When first we came to "Irish Lords", on the road to Ivanhoe.

The window of her dainty bower where the golden banksia grew,
Stared like a dead man's glazing eye, and the roof had fallen through,
No violets in her garden-bed, and her voice! Hushed, long ago!
When last we camped at "Irish Lords", on the road to Ivanhoe.

Subject: RE: ADD: Irish Lords (Souter, Wyndham-Read)
From: GUEST,Jockey in the saddle
Date: 13 Oct 25 - 04:16 PM

Original

The clover burr was two feet high, and the billabongs were full,
The brolgas danced a minuet, and the world seemed made of wool!
The nights were never wearisome and the days were never slow
When first we came to "Irish Lords" on the road to Ivanhoe!

The rime was on the barley-grass as we passed the homestead rails,
A Darling jackass piped us in, with his trills and turns and scales,
And youth and health and carelessness sat on the saddle-bow,
--And Mary lived at "Irish Lords", on the road to Ivanhoe!

On every hand was loveliness, and the Fates were fair and kind;
We drank the very wine of life, and we never looked behind;
And Mary! Mary everywhere, was flitting to and fro,
When first we came to "Irish Lords", on the road to Ivanhoe.

The window of her dainty bower where the golden banksia grew,
Stared like a dead man's glazing eye, and the roof had fallen through,
No violets in her garden-bed, and her voice! Hushed, long ago!
When last we camped at "Irish Lords", on the road to Ivanhoe
revised version
The barley grass was two feet high, the billabongs were full,
The brolgas danced a minuet, the world seemed made of wool,
The nights were never wearisome, the days were never slow,
When first I went to Irish Lords, on the road to Ivanhoe.

The frost was on the barley grass as we passed the homestead rails,
A darling jackass piped us in, with his turns and trills and scales,
Youth and health and happiness, sat on the saddle bow,
And Mary lived at Irish Lords, on the road to Ivanhoe.

And everywhere was happiness, the fates were fair and kind,
We drank the very wine of life, we never looked behind,
And Mary, Mary everywhere, was flitting to and fro,
When first we went to Irish Lords, on the road to Ivanhoe.

The window on a leafy byre, where the golden banksia grew,
Stared like a dead man's glassy eye, for the roof had fallen through,
No flowers in her garden-bed, and her voice stilled long ago,
When last I went to Irish Lords, on the road to Ivanhoe.