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15 Apr 16 - 06:30 AM (#3785441) Subject: Lyr Add: The gentle cup of tea From: mayomick The Gentle Cup of Tea Prate on about your wine , and your potin mighty fine There's no such sup as mine from China to Bombay And whether black or green or the divil-a-shade between There's none that I have seen like the gentle cup of tea Oh hear the kittle sing like the birds in early spring a sup for any king is the darling on the tray Old cronies dropping in , the fat ones and the thin Their hearts I'll surely win with a gentle cup of tea With whiskey stout galore how many heads grow sore Shillelaghs by the score so manfully do play For all their heathen ways , good luck on them Chinese That send us oe'r the seas our gentle cup of tea |
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15 Apr 16 - 06:33 AM (#3785442) Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The gentle cup of tea From: mayomick It's in the Sam Henry book of Irish folk songs, which I don't have to hand. A post from the tay-totaler MGM reminded me of the song . MGM pointed out that the words have to be adjusted to old Irish English pronunciation to make the song gintly roll and rhyme . So tay for tea , kittle for kettle ,, whither for wether, gintle for gentle , sais for seas |
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15 Apr 16 - 06:35 AM (#3785443) Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The gentle cup of tea From: mayomick chinaise for chinese |
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15 Apr 16 - 10:45 AM (#3785472) Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The gentle cup of tea From: leeneia Thanks, Mayomick. That's very nice. I have four recovering alcoholics among my friends and acquaintances, and I appreciate what the song has to say. |
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16 Apr 16 - 09:21 AM (#3785596) Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The gentle cup of tea From: mayomick It has nice tune to it as well , Leenia . Traditional music and singing in Ireland have become too associated with the consumption of alcohol. A cup of tea is a good herbal antidote . |
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18 Apr 16 - 09:12 PM (#3785935) Subject: Lyr Add: THE CUP O' TAY From: Jim Dixon Here's how it appears in Sam Henry's Songs of the People, page 48: THE CUP O' TAY Source: (m) Sam Dunlop, fiddler (Upper Main St, Bushmills). Och, prate about your wine, or poteen mighty fine There's no such draught as mine from Ireland to Bombay And whether black or green or divil-a-shade between There's nothin' I have seen wid a gintale cup o' tay. Whisht, hear the kettle sing like birds in early spring A sup for any king is the darlin' on the tray Ould cronies droppin' in, the fat ones and the thin Since all their hearts I win wid a gintale cup o' tay. Wid whiskey punch galore how many heads grow sore Shillelaghs too a score most beautifully play With all their haithin ways, good luck to them Chinaise Who send us o'er the says such a gintale cup o' tay. |