Песня «Molly's Polka»
исполнителя Spiritual seasons.
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• Changing Your Demeanour / The Harvest Home

  Spiritual seasons

  

  
• Some Say the Devil Is Dead

  Spiritual seasons

  

  Some say the devil is dead, the devil is dead, the devil is dead Some say the devil is dead, and buried in Killarney More say he rose again, more say he rose again More say he rose again and joined the British Army Feed the pigs and milk the cow, and milk the cow, and milk the cow Feed the pigs and milk the cow, early in the morning Cock your leg, oh Paddy dear, Paddy dear I'm over here Cock your leg, oh Paddy dear, it's time to stop your yawning Some say the devil is dead, the devil is dead, the devil is dead Some say the devil is dead, and buried in Killarney More say he rose again, more say he rose again More say he rose again and joined the British Army Katie she is tall and thin, she's tall and thin, and tall and thin Katie she is tall and thin, and like her drops of brandy Drinks it in the bed each night, drinks it in the bed each night Drinks it in the bed each night, it makes her nice and randy Some say the devil is dead, the devil is dead, the devil is dead Some say the devil is dead, and buried in Killarney More say he rose again, more say he rose again More say he rose again and joined the British Army The wife she has the hairy thing, a hairy thing, a hairy thing The wife she has the hairy thing, she showed it to me on Sunday She bought it in the furrier's shop, bought it in the furrier's shop She bought it in the furriers's shop, it's going back on Monday

  
• Bonden Og Kraka

  Spiritual seasons

  

  Å mannen han gjekk seg i vedaskog - hajfara ...– der såg han ei kråke i lunden som gol - hajfara, fal tyryl tyral tyra – Og mannen han tenkte med sjølve seg å, tro om den kråka vil drepa meg? Så spende han fore dei folane tolv så kjøyrde han kråka på låvegolv Av tarmane gjorde han tolv par reip og klørne han brukte til møkkagreip Av augo så gjorde han stoveglas og nakken han sette på kyrkja til stas Å mannen han gjekk seg i vedaskog der såg han ei kråke i lunden som gol Og mannen han tenkte med sjølve seg å, tro om den kråka vil drepa meg? Og den som ’kje kråka kann nytta så han er ikkje verd ei kråke å få !

  
• The Parting Glass

  Spiritual seasons

  

  
• Foggy Dew

  Spiritual seasons

  

  As down the glen one Easter morn To a city fair rode I, Their armed lines of marching men In squadrons passed me by. No pipe did hum, no battle drum Did sound its loud tattoo But the Angelus' bells o'er the Liffey swells Rang out in the foggy dew. Right proudly high in Dublin town Hung they out a flag of war. It was better to die beneath an Irish sky Then at Suvla or Sud el Bar. And from the plains of Royal Meath Strong men came hurrying through; While Brittania's Huns with their long-range guns Sailed in through the foggy dew. 'Twas England bade our wild geese go, that «small nations might be free»; Their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves or the fringe of the great North Sea. Oh, had they died by Pearse’s side or fought with Cathal Brugha Their graves we’d keep where the Fenians sleep, 'neath the shroud of the foggy dew. The bravest fell, and the requiem bell Rang mournfully and clear For those who died that Easter-tide In the springing of the year. While the world did gaze with deep amaze At those fearless men but few Who bore the fight that freedom's light Might shine through the foggy dew. And back through the glen I rode again And my heart with grief was sore For I parted then with valiant men Whom I never shall see more But to and fro In my dreams I go And I kneel and pray for you For slavery fled Oh, glorious dead When you fell in the foggy dew.