|
|
|
\selectlanguage{english}
|
|
|
|
\songcolumns{2}
|
|
|
|
\beginsong{Kilkelly, Ireland}[by=Steven and Peter Jones]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
\beginverse
|
|
|
|
\[Mim]Kilkelly, Ireland, \[Sol]18 and 60, my \[Ré]dear and loving son \[Mim]John
|
|
|
|
Your good friend the schoolmaster \[Sol]Pat McNamara's
|
|
|
|
so \[Ré]good as to write these words \[Mim]down.
|
|
|
|
Your \[Sol]brothers have all gone to \[Ré]find work in England,
|
|
|
|
the \[Do]house is so empty and \[Ré]sad \[Si7]~
|
|
|
|
The \[Mim]crop of potatoes is \[Sol]sorely infected,
|
|
|
|
a \[Ré]third to a half of them \[Mim]bad.
|
|
|
|
And your \[Sol]sister Brigid and \[Ré]Patrick O'Donnell
|
|
|
|
are \[Do]going to be married in \[Ré]June. \[Si7]~
|
|
|
|
Your \[Mim]mother says not to \[Sol]work on the railroad
|
|
|
|
and \[Ré]be sure to come on \[Mim]home soon.
|
|
|
|
\endverse
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
\beginverse
|
|
|
|
Kilkelly, Ireland, 18 and 70, dear and loving son John
|
|
|
|
Hello to your Mrs and to your 4 children,
|
|
|
|
may they grow healthy and strong.
|
|
|
|
Michael has got in a wee bit of trouble,
|
|
|
|
I guess that he never will learn.
|
|
|
|
Because of the dampness there's no turf to speak of
|
|
|
|
and now we have nothing to burn.
|
|
|
|
And Brigid is happy, you named a child for her
|
|
|
|
and now she's got six of her own.
|
|
|
|
You say you found work, but you don't say
|
|
|
|
what kind or when you will be coming home.
|
|
|
|
\endverse
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
\beginverse
|
|
|
|
Kilkelly, Ireland, 18 and 80, dear Michael and John, my sons
|
|
|
|
I'm sorry to give you the very sad news
|
|
|
|
that your dear old mother has gone.
|
|
|
|
We buried her down at the church in Kilkelly,
|
|
|
|
your brothers and Brigid were there.
|
|
|
|
You don't have to worry, she died very quickly,
|
|
|
|
remember her in your prayers.
|
|
|
|
And it's so good to hear that Michael's returning,
|
|
|
|
with money he's sure to buy land
|
|
|
|
For the crop has been poor and the people
|
|
|
|
are selling at any price that they can.
|
|
|
|
\endverse
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
\beginverse
|
|
|
|
Kilkelly, Ireland, 18 and 90, my dear and loving son John
|
|
|
|
I guess that I must be close on to eighty,
|
|
|
|
it's thirty years since you're gone.
|
|
|
|
Because of all of the money you send me,
|
|
|
|
I'm still living out on my own.
|
|
|
|
Michael has built himself a fine house
|
|
|
|
and Brigid's daughters have grown.
|
|
|
|
Thank you for sending your family picture,
|
|
|
|
they're lovely young women and men.
|
|
|
|
You say that you might even come for a visit,
|
|
|
|
what joy to see you again.
|
|
|
|
\endverse
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
\beginverse
|
|
|
|
Kilkelly, Ireland, 18 and 92, my dear brother John
|
|
|
|
I'm sorry that I didn't write sooner to tell you that father passed on.
|
|
|
|
He was living with Brigid, she says he was cheerful
|
|
|
|
and healthy right down to the end.
|
|
|
|
Ah, you should have seen him play with
|
|
|
|
the grandchildren of Pat McNamara, your friend.
|
|
|
|
And we buried him alongside of mother,
|
|
|
|
down at the Kilkelly churchyard.
|
|
|
|
He was a strong and a feisty old man,
|
|
|
|
considering his life was so hard.
|
|
|
|
And it's funny the way he kept talking about you,
|
|
|
|
he called for you in the end.
|
|
|
|
Oh, why don't you think about coming to visit,
|
|
|
|
we'd all love to see you again.
|
|
|
|
\endverse
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
\endsong
|