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Lyr Req: The Old Mud Cabin/old Irish song

Shaneo 05 Feb 07 - 01:52 PM
GUEST 05 Feb 07 - 02:01 PM
Peace 05 Feb 07 - 02:38 PM
Shaneo 05 Feb 07 - 02:45 PM
Peace 05 Feb 07 - 02:46 PM
GUEST 20 Mar 18 - 09:24 AM
Jim Dixon 20 Mar 18 - 11:01 PM
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Subject: Lyr Req: The Old Mud Cabin/old Irish song
From: Shaneo
Date: 05 Feb 07 - 01:52 PM

Can anybody fill in the missing lyrics for me please
This one does not seem very popular from the searches
I have already done. ,,thanks


Now go sell a pig and that cow now me boy and go
sail ye far away

Your dear old parents sure I know you must leave
behind

Now go and seek your fortune me lad in that land
across the sea

For in paddy's land there's poverty you'll find

Now these were the words me father said as I left
old Ireland

Now the sad farewell sure it lives in my memory
still

Now no more will I spend now those happy hours as
I did in days of yore

In that little old mud cabin on the hill


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req: The Old Mud Cabin/old Irish song
From: GUEST
Date: 05 Feb 07 - 02:01 PM

The Little Old Mud Cabin on the Hill (Roud 9271)


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Subject: Lyr Add: THE OLD MUD CABIN ON THE HILL
From: Peace
Date: 05 Feb 07 - 02:38 PM

18 - The Little Old Mud Cabin on the Hill (Roud 9271)
Eddie Coyle
(Recorded by Keith Summers at Eugene Smyth's bar in Maguiresbridge, Co Fermanagh, after a hunt, Winter 1977)

Go sell the pig and the cow and all,
And we'll take you far away,
For your dear old parents
You must leave behind.
Go and seek your fortune far away
In a land across the sea,
For in Paddy's land it's poverty you'll find.

Those were the words my mother spake
As I left old Ireland.
And the sad farewell is in my memory still.
As I placed that bundle on my back,
And I left for ever more,
From yon little old mud cabin on the hill.

Oh, for the roof was thatched with yellow straw,
And the walls were white as snow.
And the turf fire boiled the pot, I see it still.
Old Ireland's engraven in my heart,
It's the place where I was born,
In that little old thatched cabin on the hill.

I still can see the turf fire
With my mother by its side.
My dear old father sitting by her side,
His pipe is lit and the smoke ascends,
And they're thinking of the time
When they sent their darling boy across the tide.

No more I'll see them dancing on yon kitchen floor
To the music of the bagpipes loud and shrill.
No more I'll see the happy times
That we had in days of yore,
In yon little old mud cabin on the hill.

Oh, for the roof was thatched with yellow straw,
And the walls were white as snow.
And the turf fire boiled the pot, I see it still.
Old Ireland's engraven in my heart,
It's the place where I was born,
In the little old mud cabin on the hill.

That is from


http://www.mustrad.org.uk/articles/hardyson.htm


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req: The Old Mud Cabin/old Irish song
From: Shaneo
Date: 05 Feb 07 - 02:45 PM

Thanks Peace , again you came through for me.


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req: The Old Mud Cabin/old Irish song
From: Peace
Date: 05 Feb 07 - 02:46 PM

Just got lucky with Mr Google. Never heard the song before, but I love the lyrics. Thanks for posting this thread, Shaneo.


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req: The Old Mud Cabin/old Irish song
From: GUEST
Date: 20 Mar 18 - 09:24 AM

could I have they chords for the song , michael


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Subject: Lyr Add: OLD MUD CABIN ON THE HILL
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 20 Mar 18 - 11:01 PM

From Flying Cloud: And One Hundred and Fifty Other Old Time Songs and Ballads ..., compiled by M. C. Dean (Virginia, Minn.: The Quickprint, 1922), page 100:


OLD MUD CABIN ON THE HILL.

Go sell the pig and cow, Aggrah, to take you far away.
Your poor old parents you must leave behind.
Go seek your fortune, darling, in the land beyond the sea,
For in Paddy's land but poverty you'll find.
Those were the words my mother said when I left poor Paddy's land,
And the sad farewell is in my memory still,
And old Ireland engravened on my heart, the spot where I was born,
In the little old mud cabin on the hill.

I think I see the turf fire; it attracts my father's gaze,
And my poor old mother's knitting by his side.
The pipe is lit; the smoke ascends; he is thinking of the day
That took his darling boy across the tide.
No more I'll join the merry throng upon the earthen floor,
To the music of the bagpipes loud and shrill.
No more I'll see those good old days in dear old Paddy's land,
Or the little old mud cabin on the hill.

May God help the emigrant that leaves poor Paddy's land,
His friends to mourn his absence while he's gone.
He sails to dear America with heart both sick and sore.
For those he loves, he braves the world alone.
But if God does spare my life to passage back again,
To bring my parents out, if living still,
But if not, please God, I'll meet them all in a better home,
Than the little old mud cabin on the hill.


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