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Van Morrison
Van Morrison


Background information
Birth name George Ivan Morrison
Born August 31, 1945
Origin Belfast, Northern Ireland
Genre(s) Blues
R&B
Folk
Blue-eyed soul
Celtic
Rock'n'Roll
Jazz
Country
Years active 1958—present
Label(s) Mercury Records
London Records
Lost Highway Records
Bang Records
Associated acts Them
Website Website



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  V  →  Van Morrison  →  Albums  →  Irish Heartbeat

Van Morrison Album


Irish Heartbeat (1988)
1988
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Traditional, arranged by Van Morrison / Paddy Moloney

In Banbridge Town in the County Down
One morning last July,
From a boreen green came a sweet colleen
And she smiled as she passed me by.
She looked so sweet fronn her two bare feet
To the sheen of her nut brown hair.
Such a coaxing elf, sure I shook myself
For to see I was really there.

Chorus:
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay and
From Galway to Dublin Town,
No maid I've seen like the brown colleen
That I met in the County Down.

As she onward sped, sure I scratched my head,
And I looked with a feelin' rare,
And I say's, say's I, to a passer-by,
"Whose the maid with the nut brown hair"?
He smiled at me and he says's, say's he,
"That's the gem of Ireland's crown.
It's Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann,
She's the star of the County Down".

Chorus:
From Bantry Bay up to Derry Ouay and
From Galway to Dublin Town,
No maid I've seen like the brown colleen
That I met in the County Down.

At the Harvest Fair she'll be surely there
And I'll dress in my Sunday clothes,
With my shoes shone bright and my hat cocked
Right for a smile from my nut brown rose.
No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke
Till my plough turns rust coloured brown.
Till a smiling bride, by my own fireside
Sits the star of the County Down.


. . .



Words and Music by Van Morrison

Oh won't you stay, stay awhile
With your own ones.
Don't ever stray,
Stray so far from your own ones.
This old world is so cold.
Don't care nothin' for your soul
You share with your own ones.

Don't rush away, rush away
From your own ones.
Just one more day, one more day
With your own ones.
For the world is so cold.
Don't care nothin' for your soul
You share with your own ones.

Bridge:
There's a stranger
And he's standing at your door.
May be your best friend
Might be your brother,
You may never know.

I'm going back, going back
To my own ones.
Back to talk, talk awhile
With my own ones.
For the world is so cold.
Don't care nothing for your soul

. . .


Traditional, arranged by Van Morrison/Paddy Moloney

Ta mo chleamhnas deanta o athru areir
S'ni mo na go dtaithnioonn an bhean liom fein
Ach fagfaidh me i mo dhiaidh i
'gus imeoidh me liom fein
Ar fud na gcoillte craobhach

My match it was made here last night
To a girl I neither love nor like
But I'll take my own advice
And leave her behind
And go roaming the wild woods all over.

Shiuil mise thoir agus shiuil mise thiar.
Shiuil mise Corcaigh 'gus sraide Bh'l'ath Cliath
Ach samhail de mo chailin deas ni fhaca mise riamh.
'Si an bhean dubh a dhfhag mo chroi craite

I walked up and I walked down.
I walked Cork, and Dublin, and Belfast towns,
But no equal to my true love could I find.
She's the wee lass that's left my heart broken.

D'eirigh me ar maidin dha uair roimh an la
'gus fuair me litir o mo mhile ghra
Chuala me an smoilin 's an londubh a ra
Gur ealiagh mo ghra thar saile

I got up two hours before day
And I got a letter from my true love.
I heard the blackbird and linnet say

. . .


On Raglan Road on an Autumn Day,
I saw her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare
That I may one day rue.
I saw the danger, yet I walked
Along the enchanted way
And I said let grief be a falling leaf
At the dawning of the day.

On Grafton Street in November,
We tripped lightly along the ledge
Of a deep ravine where can be seen
The worst of passions pledged.
The Queen of Hearts still baking tarts
And I not making hay,
Well I loved too much; by such and such
Is happiness thrown away.

I gave her the gifts of the mind.
I gave her the secret sign
That's known to all the artists who have
Known true Gods of Sound and Time.
With word and tint I did not stint.
I gave her reams of poems to say
With her own dark hair and her own name there
Like the clouds over fields of May.

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet,
I see her walking now away from me,
So hurriedly. My reason must allow,
For I have wooed, not as I should
A creature made of clay.
When the angel woos the clay, he'll lose
His wings at the dawn of the day.

. . .


My young love said to me,
My mother won't mind
And my father won't slight you
For your lack of kind.
She stepped away from me
And this she did say,
"It will not be long love
Till our wedding day".

She stepped away from me
And she moved through the fair
And fondly I watched her move here
And move there.
And she went her way homeward
With one star awake,
As the swan in the evening
Moved over the lake.

Last night she came to me,
My young love came in.
So softly she entered,
That her feet made no din.
And she came close beside me
And this she did say,
"It will not be long love
Till our wedding day".

. . .


Traditional, arranged by Van Morrison/Paddy Moloney

I'll tell me Ma when I go home,
The boy's won't leave the girls alone.
They'll pull my hair, they stole my comb,
Well that's alright till I go home.

Chorus:
She is handsome. She is pretty.
She is the bell of Belfast City.
She is courtin' one, two, three.
Please won't you tell me, who is she?

Albert Mooney say's he loves her.
All the boy's are fighting for her.
They knock at the door and ring at the bell
Sayin' "Oh my true love, are you well"?
Out she comes as white as snow,
Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes.
Oul Jenny Murray say's she'll die
If you don't get the fella
With the roving eye.

Let the wind and the rain and hail blow high
And the snow come tumbling from the sky,
She's as nice as apple pie.
She'll get her own lad by and by.
When she gets a lad of her own,
She won't tell her Ma when she gets home.
Let them all come as they will
For it's Albert Mooney she loves still.


. . .


I wished I had you in Carrickfergus,
Only for nights in Ballygrand,
I would swim over the deepest ocean,
The deepest ocean to be by your side.

But the sea is wide and I can't swim over
And neither have I wings to fly.
I wish I could find me a handy boatman
To ferry me over to my love and die.

My childhood days bring back sad reflections
Of happy days so long ago.
My boyhood friends and my own relations.
Have all passed on like the melting snow.

So I'll spend my days in endless roving,
Soft is the grass and my bed is free.
Oh to be home now in Carrickfergus,
On the long road down to the salty sea.

And in Kilkenny it is reported
On marble stone there as black as ink,
With gold and silver I did support her
But I'll sing no more now till I get a drink.

I'm drunk today and I'm rarely sober,
A handsome rover from town to town.
Oh but I am sick now and my days are numbered
Come all ye young men and lay me down

. . .


When Lewellen comes around
And he goes through market town
You'll be on the Celtic Ray,
Are you ready?

When McManus comes around
On his early morning round
Cryin' "Heron 'a' lay"
You'll be on the Celtic Ray.

1st Bridge:
Ireland, Scotland, Brittany, and Wales,
I can hear those ancient voices calling,
"Children, children"

When the coalbrick man comes round,
On a cold November day
You'll be on the Celtic Ray,
Are you ready?

2nd Bridge:
Ireland, Scotland, Cornwall and Wales,
I can hear those ancient voices calling,
"Children, children, children".

Listen Jimmy, I wanna go home.
Listen Jimmy I wanna go home.
I've been away from the Ray too long.

Repeat

I've been away from the Ray too long.
In the early mornin', we'll go walkin' where
The light comes shining through
On the Celtic Ray,
Are you ready

. . .


Where Lagan streams sing lullabies
There blows a lily fair.
The twilight gleam is in her eye,
The night is on her hair.
And like a lovesick lenashee
She hath my heart in thrall.
No life have I, no liberty,
For love is Lord of all.

And often when the beetles horn
Has lulled the eve to sleep,
I'll steal into her sheiling lorn
And through the doorway creep.
There on the cricket's singing stone,
She makes the bogwood fire
And sings in sweet and undertone,
The song of hearts desire.

. . .


Chorus:
Step we gaily on we go,
Heel and heel
And toe for toe,
Arm and arm
And row and row,
All for Marie's wedding.

Over hillways, up and down,
Myrtle green and bracken brown,
Past the sheilings through the town
All for the sake of Marie.

Chorus

Red her cheeks as Rowan's are,
Bright her eyes as any star.
Fairest of them all by far,
Is our darlin' Marie.

Chorus

Plenty herring, plenty meal,
Plenty peat to fill her kreel.
Plenty bonnie bairns as well,
That's the toast for Marie.

Repeat Chorus

repeat verse one

repeat chorus

repeat verse two

repeat chorus

. . .


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