Play recording: Streams of Bunclody, The
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- Teideal (Title): Streams of Bunclody, The.
- Uimhir Chatalóige Ollscoil Washington (University of Washington Catalogue Number): 844401.
- Uimhir Chnuasach Bhéaloideas Éireann (National Folklore of Ireland Number): none.
- Uimhir Roud (Roud Number): 3000.
- Uimhir Laws (Laws Number): none.
- Uimhir Child (Child Number): none.
- Cnuasach (Collection): Joe Heaney Collection, University of Washington, Seattle.
- Teanga na Croímhíre (Core-Item Language): English.
- Catagóir (Category): song.
- Ainm an té a thug (Name of Informant): Joe Heaney.
- Ainm an té a thóg (Name of Collector): Gage Averill.
- Dáta an taifeadta (Recording Date): between 1982 and 1983.
- Suíomh an taifeadta (Recording Location): University of Washington, United States of America.
- Ocáid an taifeadta (Recording Occasion): private.
- Daoine eile a bhí i láthair (Others present): unavailable.
- Stádas chóipcheart an taifeadta (Recording copyright status): unavailable.
Oh, were I at the moss house where the birds do increase
At the foot of Mount Leinster or some silent place
By the streams of Bunclody where our pleasures do meet
And all I would ask for one kiss from you sweet.
Oh, the streams of Bunclody they flow down so free
By the streams of Bunclody I’m longing to be
A-drinking strong liquor in the height of my cheer
Here’s a health to Bunclody and the lass I love dear.
The cuckoo’s a pretty bird, it sings as it flies
It brings us good tidings and tells us no lies
It sucks the young birds’ eggs to make its voice clear
And the more it cries cuckoo, the summer is near.
If I was a lark and had wings I could fly
I would go to yon arbour where my love she does lie
I’d proceed to yon arbour where my true love does sleep
And on her fond bosom I would mourn and weep.
‘Tis why my love slights me as you may understand
That she has a freehold and I have no land
She has great store of riches and a large sum of gold
And everything fitting a house to uphold.
So fare you well, father, and mother adieu
My sister and brothers, farewell unto you
I’m bound for America, my fortune to try
When I think of Bunclody, I am ready to die.