Songs in "The Dead"

“The Lass of Aughrim”

If you be the lass of Aughrim
As I am taking you mean to be
Tell me the first token
That passed between you and me.
The rain falls on my yellow locks
And the dew it wets my skin;
My babe lies cold within my arms:
Lord Gregory let me in.
Oh Gregory, don’t you remember
One night on the hill,
When we swapped rings off each other’s hands,
Sorely against my will?
Mine was of the beaten gold,
Yours was but black tin;
Refrain
Oh if you be the lass of Aughrim,
As I suppose you not to be
Come tell me the last token
That passed between you and me.
Refrain
Oh Gregory don’t you remember
One night on the hill
When we swapped smocks off each other’s backs,
Sorely against my will?
Mine was of the Holland fine,
Yours was but scotch cloth.
Refrain



“I Dreamt that I Dwelt”

I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls,
With vassals and serfs at my side,
And of all who assembled within those walls,
That I was the hope and the pride.
I had riches too great to count
Could boast of a high ancestral name;
But I also dreamt, which pleased me most,
That you loved me still the same;
That you loved me, you loved me still the same,
That you loved me, you loved me still the same.

I dreamt that suitors sought my hand;
That knights upon bended knee,
And with vows no maiden heart could withstand
They pledged their faith to me;
I dreamt that one of the noble host
Came forth my hand to claim.
But I also dreamt, which charmed me most,
That you loved me still the same;
That you loved me, you loved me still the same,
That you loved me, you loved me still the same.

Composed by M.W. Balfe
Nelson, Lesley. (n.d.). Folk Music.





“Silent, O Moyle” (at the end of the clip)

Silent, O Moyle be the roar of thy water,
Break not, ye breezes, your chain of repose;
While murmuring mournfully, Lir’s lonely daughter
Tells to the night star her tale of woes.
When shall the swan, her death-note singing,
Sleep with wings in darkness furl’d?
When shall heav’n its sweet bell ringing,
Call my spirit from this stormy world?

Sadly, Oh Moyle, to thy winter-wave weeping,
Fate bids me languish long ages away;
Yet still in her darkness doth Erin lie sleeping,
Still doth the pure light its dawning delay!
When will that day-star, mildly springing,
Warm our Isle with peace and love?
When shall heav’n, its sweet bell ringing,
Call my spirit to the fields above?

Lyrics by Thomas Moore
Nelson, Lesley. (n.d.). Folk Music.


“Let Me Like a Soldier Fall”

Yes! Let me like a soldier fall
Upon some open plain,
This breast expanding for the ball,
To blot out every stain.
Brave manly hearts confer my doom
That gentler ones may tell
Howe’er forgot, my unknown tomb
I like a soldier fell.
I only ask of that proud race,
Which ends its blaze in me,
To die the last, and not disgrace
Its ancient chivalry.
Tho’ o’er my clay no banner wave
Nor trumpet requiem swell,
Enough they murmur o’er my grave
He like a soldier fell

Composed by William Vincent Wallace; lyrics by Edward Fitzball


“Killarney” (No clip)

By Killarney’s lakes and fells,
Em’rald isles and winding bays;
Mountain paths and woodland dells,
Mem’ry ever fondly strays.
Bounteous nature loves all lands
Beauty wonders ev’rywhere;
Footprints leaves on many strand,
But her home is surely there!
Angels fold their wings and rest,
In that Eden of the West
Beauty’s home Killarney,
Ever fair Killarney.

No place else can charm the eye,
With such bright and varied tints,
Ev’ry rock that you pass by,
Verdure broiders or besprints.
Virgin there the green grass grows,
Ev’ry morn Spring’s natal day;
Brighthued berries daff the snows,
Smiling winter’s frown away.
Angels often pausing there,
Doubt if Eden were more fair,
Beauty’s home Killarney,
Ever fair Killarney.

Music there for Echo dwells,
Makes each sound a Harmony,
Many-voiced the chorus swells
Till it faints in ecstasy.
With the charmful tints below
Seems the Heaven above to vie,
All rich colours that we know,
Tinge the cloud-wreaths in that sky.
Wings of Angels so might shine,
Glancing back soft light divine,
Beauty’s home Killarney,
Ever fair Killarney.

Composed by M.W. Balfe


“Arrayed for the Bridal” (from Vincezo Bellini's "I Puritani") (No clip)

Arrayed for the bridal, in beauty behold her
A white wreath entwineth a forehead more fair;
I envy the zephyrs that softly enfold her,
And play with the locks of her beautiful hair.
May life to her prove full of sunshine and love.
Who would not love her?
Sweet star of the morning, shining so bright
Earth’s circle adorning, fair creature of light!

Composed by Bellini; lyrics by George Linley