John McDermott
bard of armagh
Select language to translate this lyric
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
- Album:
- Miscellaneous
- Non-Album Releases
- My Gentle Harp
- O Canada And Other Inspirational International Anthems
- Timeless Memories: Greatest Hits
- Daughter of Mine (The Perfect Wedding Album)
- The Danny Boy Collection
- Christmas Memories
- When I Grow Too Old to Dream
- Songs of The Isles: Ireland
- O Canada
- Old Friends
- Danny Boy
- Great Is Thy Faithfulness - Songs of Inspiration
- Stories of Love
- Songs of the Isles – Scotland
- Scotland This Ancient Land
- A Traditional Christmas
- The Old House
- Caledonia - A Highland Homecoming