Ms Annie Moore (1874–1924), named in the song hereunder, was an Irish immigrant, and the first person in the United States to pass through federal immigrant inspection at the Ellis Island Station, in New York Harbour. As the first person to pass inspection at this then newly opened facility, she was presented with an American $10 gold piece, by an American immigration official.
Annie had set sail from Co. Cork, Ireland, aboard the Guion Line steamship ‘Nevada’ in the year 1892. Her brothers, Anthony and Philip, who journeyed with her, were aged just 15 years and 12 years respectively.
Her parents, Matthew and Julia, had arrived in the United States 4 years earlier, in 1888, and were both residing at No. 32 Monroe Street, Manhattan, New York, USA.
Annie would go on to marry the son of a German Catholic immigrant, named as Joseph Augustus Schayer (1876–1960), latter a salesman at Manhattan’s Fulton Fish Market, with whom she had possibly some eleven children.
She sadly died of heart failure on December 6th, in 1924, at just aged 50 years. She was buried in Calvary Cemetery, at Maspeth and Woodside, Queens, New York City, New York, USA.
Lyrics: Irish songwriter and novelist Brendan Graham.
Vocals: The distinctive Irish (Galway) singing voice of Sean Keane.
Isle of Hope, Isle of Tears
On the first day of January, eighteen ninety-two, They opened Ellis Island and they let the people through. And the first to cross the threshold of that Isle of hope and tears, Was Annie Moore from Ireland, who was only fifteen years.
Chorus Isle of Hope, Isle of tears, Isle of freedom, Isle of fears, But it’s not the Isle you left behind, That Isle of hunger, Isle of pain I will never see again, But the Isle of home is always on your mind.
Repeat Chorus In a little bag she carried all her past and history, And her dreams for the future in the Land of Liberty, And courage is the passport, when your old world disappears, But there’s no future in the past, when you’re fifteen years.
Repeat Chorus When they closed down Ellis Island in Nineteen Forty-Three, Seventeen million people, had come there for sanctuary, And in springtime when I came here and I stepped onto it’s piers, I thought of how it must have been, when you’re fifteen years.
Lyrics: American singer-songwriters Max Barnes and Vern Gosdin. Vocals: Irish teenage country singer Owen Mac.
If Jesus comes tomorrow.
If Jesus comes tomorrow to spend some time with you, Would you answer all His questions or lie to hide the truth? Would you welcome Him with open arms or even let Him in? If Jesus comes tomorrow what then?
If Jesus calls your number could you leave today? Are you ready to lay down your worldly goods and walk away? Would it take a month of Sundays just to tell Him of your sin? If Jesus comes tomorrow what then?
If the sky turns black as midnight in the middle of the day, And somehow you knew that Jesus would soon be on His way. Would you have to beg forgiveness? Or could you reach out and take His hand? If Jesus comes tomorrow what then?
If the sky turns black as midnight in the middle of the day, And somehow you knew that Jesus would soon be on His way, Would you have to beg forgiveness? Or could you reach out and take His hand? If Jesus comes tomorrow what then? If Jesus comes tomorrow what then?
Lyrics: Gilbert Francois Leopold Becaud, latter a French singer, composer, pianist and actor, known as “Monsieur 100,000 Volts”, because of his energetic performances and Neil Leslie Diamond[Neil Diamond] American singer-songwriter who has sold more than 130 million records worldwide.
Vocals: Singer-songwriter Neil Diamond.
It’s a sunny ‘September Morning’ here in Thurles, Co. Tipperary and we find ourselves, once again, in that month which begins our Autumn season, romanticised by the poet John Keats, who described this time of year as the ‘season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’.
This song, hereunder, on the other hand, attempts to romanticise a couple who have come back together after a break in their relationship. It’s an emotional moment, as the singer discusses his recollections and indeed his feelings, when they once both danced together on a certain September morning, previously. Since then they have grown apart, and he now hopes that their relationship has not become too distant, and that they can still remember those good times together.
September Morn.
September Morn.
Stay for just a while. Stay and let me look at you. It’s been so long, I hardly knew you, Standing in the door. Stay with me a while, I only wanna talk to you. We’ve travelled halfway round the world, To find ourselves again. September morn, We danced until the night, Became a brand new day. Two lovers playing scenes, From some romantic play. September morning, Still can make me feel that way. Look at what you’ve done, Why, you’ve become a grown-up girl. I still can hear you crying, In the corner of your room, And look how far we’ve come, So far from where we used to be, But not so far that we’ve forgotten, How it was before. September morn, Do you remember, How we danced that night away. Two lovers playing scenes, From some romantic play. September morning. Still can make me feel that way. September morn, We danced until the night, Became a brand new day. Two lovers playing scenes, From some romantic play. September morning, Still can make me feel that way. September morn, We danced until the night, Became a brand new day. Two lovers playing scenes, From some romantic play. September morning, Still can make me feel that way. September morning, Still can make me feel that way.
Lyrics: Irish musician, songwriter and record producer from Derry, Northern Ireland, Phil Coulter.
Vocals: Irish folk band ‘The Fureys’, originally formed in 1974, from Ballyfermot, Dublin, and Irish folk singer, originally from Co. Donegal, Davy Arthur.
The Old Man
The tears have all been shed now, We’ve said our last goodbyes. His soul’s been blest, He’s laid to rest, And it’s now I feel alone. He was more then just a father, A teacher, my best friend, He can still be heard, In the tunes we’ve shared, When we played them on our own. Oh I’ll never will forget him, For he made me what I am. Though he may be gone, Memories linger on, I miss my old man. As a boy, he’d take me walking, Through mountains, field, and stream, And he’d show me things, Not know to kids, And secrets between him and me. Like the colors of the pheasant, As he rises in the dawn, And how to fish, and make a wish, Beside a holy tree. Oh, I’ll never will forget him, For he made me what I am. Though he may be gone, Memories linger on, I miss my old man. I thought he’d live forever, Sure he seemed so big and strong, But the minutes fly, And the years roll by, For a father and a son, And suddenly when it happened, There was so much left unsaid, No second chance to tell him thanks, For everything he’d done. Oh, I’ll never will forget him, For he made me what I am, Though he may be gone, Memories linger on, I miss my old man.
Lyrics: American, Austin, Texas based country music singer and songwriter Bruce Robison.
Vocals: American country music band from Dallas, Texas, “The Chicks”(Previously known as the “Dixie Chicks”).
Travelin’ Soldier.
Two days past eighteen, He was waiting for the bus in his army green. Sat down in a booth in a cafe there’, Gave his order to a girl with a bow in her hair. He’s a little shy so she give him a smile. And he said would you mind sittin’ down for a while, And talking to me, I’m feeling a little low. She said I’m off in an hour and I know where we can go. So they went down and they sat on the pier. He said I bet you got a boyfriend, but I don’t care, I got no one to send a letter to. Would you mind if I sent one back here to you. I cried, Never gonna hold the hand of another guy, Too young for him they told her. Waitin’ for the love of a travelin’ soldier. Our love will never end, Waitin’ for the soldier to come back again. Never more to be alone when the letter says, A soldier’s coming home. So the letters came from an army camp, From California then Vietnam, And he told her of his heart. It might be love and all of the things he was so scared of, He said when it’s getting kinda rough over here, I think of that day sittin’ down at the pier, And I close my eyes and see your pretty smile. Don’t worry but I won’t be able to write for a while. I cried, Never gonna hold the hand of another guy. Too young for him they told her, Waitin’ for the love of a travelin’ soldier. Our love will never end, Waitin’ for the soldier to come back again. Never more to be alone when the letter says, A soldier’s coming home. One Friday night at a football game, The Lord’s Prayer said and the anthem sang. A man said “folks would you bow your head, For the list of local Vietnam dead”. Crying all alone under the stands, Was the piccolo player in the marching band, And one name read and nobody really cared, But a pretty little girl with a bow in her hair. I cried, Never gonna hold the hand of another guy. Too young for him they told her, Waitin’ for the love of a travelin’ soldier. Our love will never end. Waitin’ for the soldier to come back again. Never more to be alone when the letter says, A soldier’s coming home. I cried, Never gonna hold the hand of another guy. Too young for him they told her, Waitin’ for the love of a travelin’ soldier. Our love will never end. Waitin’ for the soldier to come back again, Never more to be alone when the letter says, A soldier’s coming home.
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