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Michael Daly
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The Bard Of Armagh
Oh, list to the lay of a poor Irish harper
And scorn not the strings of his withered old hand
Remember his fingers they once could move sharper
To raise up the memory of his dear native land
When I was a young lad, King Jamie did flourish
And I followed the wars in my brogues bound with straw
And all the fair colleens from Wexford to Durrish
Called me bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh
Repeat Intro
How I long for to muse on the days of my boyhood
Though four score and three years have flitted since then
Still it gives sweet reflections, as every young joy should
For light hearted boys make the best of old men
At pattern or fair I could twist my shillelagh
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Or trip through the jig with my brogues bound with straw
Whilst all the pretty maidens around me assembled
Loving bold Phelim Brady the Bard of Armagh
Repeat Intro
Although I have travelled this wide world over
Yet Erin's a home and a parent to me
Then, oh, let the ground that my old bones shall cover
Be cut from the soil that is trod by the free
And when Sergeant Death in his cold arms embrace me
Oh, lull me to sleep with 'Erin Go Bragh'
By the side of my Kathleen, my young wife oh place me
Then forget Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh
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