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John McDermott - The Bard of Armagh Lyrics



John McDermott - The Bard of Armagh Lyrics




Oh list to the strains of a poor Irish harper
And scorn not the strings from his poor withered hand
Oh remember his fingers could once move more sharper
To raise up the memory of his dear native land

At fair or at wake I would twist my shillelagh
Or trip throughout he jig in my brogues bound with straw
And all the pretty maids in the village and the valley
Loved their bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh

And when Sergeant Daeth in his cold arms shall embrace me
And lull me to sleep with sweet with sweet Erin go bragh
By the side of my Kathleen, my young young wife, oh then place me
Then forget Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh
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Oh list to the strains of a poor Irish harper
And scorn not the strings from his poor withered hand
Oh remember his fingers could once move more sharper
To raise up the memory of his dear native land

At fair or at wake I would twist my shillelagh
Or trip throughout he jig in my brogues bound with straw
And all the pretty maids in the village and the valley
Loved their bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh

And when Sergeant Daeth in his cold arms shall embrace me
And lull me to sleep with sweet with sweet Erin go bragh
By the side of my Kathleen, my young young wife, oh then place me
Then forget Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: J BAIRD, PD TRADITIONAL
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management




John McDermott - The Bard of Armagh Video
(Show video at the top of the page)


Performed By: John McDermott
Length: 3:23
Written by: J BAIRD, PD TRADITIONAL

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