When last I saw John Williams, A young man full of pride, To have his bride of just four days, Stand shyly by his side. He laughed and slapped me on the back, Said, boyo, can’t you see, I’ve seen the last of windswept bogs, And bogs the last of me. And the peelers and the landlords, And the risings of the moon, And if ever I return again, ‘T would be too bloody soon. Rich man, poor man, beggar man, wife, Sailed away into the night, Where they’ll end up, no-one knows, Round and round the story goes. He said, my friend, I’ll take my chance, In far off New York town. They say there’s lots of work there, And a good man won’t stay down. For with my lassie by my side, We’ll build a better home, And when this sea trip’s over lad, We never more will roam. So we said farewell upon the quay, There was nothing left to do, But to pray for John and his lovely bride, That their dreams might all come true. Rich man, poor man, beggar man’s wife, Sailed away into the night, Where they’ll end up, no-one knows, Round and round the story goes. How I envied you, John Williams, And your lovely fair haired bride, To be sailing on that mighty ship, Across the ocean wide. For she’s the finest liner, That was ever built by man, And they say there’s naught can sink her, No, not even God’s own hand. Man’s pride can be his own downfall, That great ship sailed from home, But I though I heard the Banshee’s cry, That chilled me to the bone. Rich man, poor man, beggar man’s wife, Sailed away into the night, Where they’ll end up, no-one knows, Round and round the story goes. Round and round the story goes.
Vocals:Cormac Thompson, originally from Northern Ireland, (then aged 12 years). Lyrics: From ‘Les Miserables’, latter a ‘sung-through musical‘, based on the 1862 novel of the same name by Victor Hugo and written by French record producer, actor, singer, songwriter Claude-Michel Schönberg; French national musical theatre lyricist and librettist Alain Boublil and South African-born English journalist and lyricist Herbert Kretzmer.
Empty Chairs At Empty Tables.
There’s a grief that can’t be spoken There’s a pain goes on and on Empty chairs at empty tables Now my friends are dead and gone Here they talked of revolution Here it was they lit the flame Here they sang about tomorrow And tomorrow never came From the table in the corner They could see a world reborn And they rose with voices ringing And I can hear them now! The very words that they had sung Became their last communion On this lonely barricade At dawn Oh my friends, my friends forgive me That I live and you are gone There’s a grief that can’t be spoken There’s a pain goes on and on Phantom faces at the window Phantom shadows on the floor Empty chairs at empty tables Where my friends will meet no more Oh my friends, my friends Don’t ask me what your sacrifice was for Empty chairs at empty tables Where my friends will sing no more
Vocals: Christie Hennessy from the album ‘Stories for sale’. Lyrics: Written by Irish folk singer/songwriter from County Kerry; the late, great Christie Hennessy. Mr Hennessy wrote and performed this song for the opening of a garden of remembrance, a place where people could scatter their loved one’s ashes, plant a tree, if they wished, and feel close to them. He passed away on this month (December 11th 2007) from lung cancer, while in a London hospice, aged 62 years.
Remember Me.
Remember me whenever you’re blue. Remember me when there’s no one holding you. Any time you feel like you can’t make it through, Remember me and I will be with you. Remember me whenever you’re afraid, And when you lose your dreams along the way. Any time you feel like you can’t make it through, Remember me and I will be with you. Every night and every day I’ll be by your side. Just reach out and take my hand and I will be your guide, And any time you feel like you can’t make it through, Remember me and I will be with you. Remember me whenever you’re afraid. Remember me if there’s someone in my place. Any time you feel like you can’t make it through, Remember me and I will be with you. Every night and every day I’ll be by your side. Just reach out and take my hand and I will be your guide. And any time you feel like oh you can’t make it through, Remember me and I will be with you. Remember me and I will be with you.
Vocals: American singer-songwriter Marc Scibilia. Note: As part of his World Tour; Marc will be coming to Vicar Street, Dublin, Ireland, for one gig only, on Wednesday, February 19th, 2025, before moving on to London. Lyrics: Marc Scibilia.
More To This.
I’ve been thinking about dying, How that’s gonna be, My skin and bones give up the ghost, And I finally feel my fragile soul, And all I am falls into mystery. I’ve been thinking about after, And all the folks I wanna see. My neighbour says that this is it. My daughter says we live again. Most the time I’m somewhere in between. Don’t the question beg an answer, Don’t the song beg a dancer, Don’t you dare, Tell me that there, Ain’t more to this, More to this. I’ve been seeing this life different, Ever since I let you go, Fragile flowers in a field, Sixty stories made of steel, Birds above and business deals below, And I’ve been thinking bout our lifetime, Like I never have before. A hundred years or a hundred days, A hundred times no difference babe, I’d would always want a hundred more. Don’t the question beg an answer, Don’t the song beg a dancer, Don’t you dare, Tell me that there, Ain’t more to this, Don’t our tears beg for laughter. I promised I’d love you forever, So don’t you dare, Tell me that there, Ain’t more to this. There’s more to this.
Don’t you dare, Tell me that there, Ain’t more to this. There’s more to this. END
Vocals: Country singer, songwriter, and entertainer Ron Shumate. Lyrics:Ron Shumate.
She Took Everything But Me.
When she left, she didn’t warn me, She moved while I was gone, She didn’t leave a note to tell me what was goin’ on, She packed up everything, She didn’t even leave my half, Well I think it’s safe to say that she ain’t ever comin’ back.
She took my boots, she took the laundry, Lord, she even took the trash, She took my Visa to the bank and got herself some cash, When she cleaned house the last time, she left it squeaky clean, I guess she’s gone for good this time, She took everything but me.
I hope she’s somewhere smilin’ as she’s watchin’ my TV, ‘Cause she can’t drive around no more, I’ve got my truck with me. I’m on my way to nashville, I’ve gotta get this record cut, So I can play it backwards and get back all my stuff.
She took my boots, she took the laundry, Lord, she even took the trash, She took my Visa to the bank and got herself some cash, When she cleaned house the last time, she left it squeaky clean, I guess she’s gone for good this time, She took everything but me.
I guess she’s gone for good this time, She took everything but me.
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