songwriters-from-ireland

"A man of more varied talents than Lysaght it was impossible to meet. In his personal character he was a thorough Irishman—brave, brilliant, witty, eloquent, and devil-may-care. He was a capital song-writer; his poems are full of that indescribable animal buoyancy which is a chief essence of Irish genius. He had a flow of exuberant spirits; his gaiety was like the laugh of matchless Mrs. Nisbett, an infallible cure for the blue devils, a potent destroyer of spleen."

"He was acting as second...to Deane Grady, in a duel between the latter and Counsellor O'Maher. O'Maher's second, during the preliminaries, drew Lysaght's attention to the fact that his pistol was cocked. "Take care, Mr. Lysaght, your pistol is cocked." "Well, then," says Pleasant Ned, "cock yours, and let me take a slap at you, as we are idle.""

"While he was living in college, there were two sprigs of nobility there, who made themselves ridiculous. These were the two sons of Lord Norbury, the Chief Justice of the Court of Common Pleas. Lord Norbury had married the heiress of the Norwood estates, and while he was serving the office of Attorney-General, he had influence enough to get his wife made Viscountess Norwood in her own right, with remainder to her second son. In the course of time, John Toler, the Attorney-General, was himself raised to the peerage as Lord Norbury, his eldest son, of course, succeeding him in the title. Many were the mistakes about the two Hon. Messrs. Toler; the future Norwood being often confounded with the future Norbury, and vice versa. The thing was more ridiculous, as the Toler family had no aristocratic pretensions. Lysaght, one day meeting the two young, conceited Tolers, in the square of the college, went up to them and said—"Pray tell me which is which? Which of you is Bogberry, and which of you is Bogwood?" The semi-plebeian filii nobiles by no means relished the allusion to bogs."

"Poetry and pistols, wine and women."

"Spending faster than it comes, Beating waiters, bailiffs, duns, Bacchus' true-begotten sons, Live the rakes of Mallow."

"He sows no vile dissensions; good-will to all he bears; He knows no vain pretensions, no paltry fears or cares; To Erin's and to Britain's sons his worth his name endears; They love the man, who led the van of Irish Volunteers."

"When it comes to rock icons, there is certainly a place for Phil Lynott. In addition to his talents as a brilliant singer/songwriter and rightfully praised for his role as frontman of Thin Lizzy, it’s often forgotten just how good of a bass player Lynott was during his career. He earned acclaim for his pick work on the instrument and those hard-charged solos made popular during the band's exhilarating live sets."

"This lass so neat, with smiles so sweet, Has won my right good-will, I’d crowns resign to call thee mine, Sweet lass of Richmond Hill."

"The little red lark, like a rosy spark Of song, to his sun-burst flies; But till you are risen, earth is a prison, Full of my captive sighs."

"Once the Bishop looked grave at your jest, Till this remark set him off wid the rest: "Is it lave gaiety All to the laity? Cannot the clargy be Irishmen too?""

"A baby was sleeping, Its mother was weeping, For her husband was far on the wild-raging sea."

"Sure my love is all crost Like a bud in the frost And there's no use at all in my going to bed, For 't is dhrames and not slape that comes into my head!"

"Reproof on her lip, but a smile in her eye."

"And with my advice, faith I wish you'd take me."

"For dhrames always go by conthraries, my dear."

""That 's eight times to-day that you 've kissed me before." "Then here goes another," says he, "to make sure, For there 's luck in odd numbers," says Rory O'More."

"As she sat in the low-backed car The man at the turn-pike bar Never asked for the toll But just rubbed his auld poll And looked after the low-backed car."

"Sure the shovel and tongs To each other belongs."

"For a ballad's a thing you expect to find lies in."

"As she lay, on that day, In the bay of Biscay, O!"

"Loud roared the dreadful thunder, The rain a deluge showers."

"Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid."

"Go where glory waits thee, But while fame elates thee, Oh! still remember me!"

"Oft, in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me; The smiles, the tears, Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone, Now dimm'd and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken!"

"The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone, In the ranks of death you'll find him; His father's sword he has girded on, And his wild harp slung behind him."

"When true hearts lie wither'd And fond ones are flown, Oh, who would inhabit This bleak world alone?"

"And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!"

"You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will, But the scent of the roses will hang round it still."

"No eye to watch, and no tongue to wound us All earth forgot, and all heaven around us."

"The light that lies In woman's eyes, Has been my heart's undoing."

"Come, come," said Tom's father, "at your time of life, There's no longer excuse for thus playing the rake-- It is time you should think, boy, of taking a wife." "Why, so it is father--whose wife shall I take?"

"'Tis the last rose of Summer, Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone."

"Eyes of unholy blue."

"Oh, call it by some better name, For friendship sounds too cold."

"A Persian's heaven is easily made: 'Tis but black eyes and lemonade."

"Just as the mind the erring sense believes, The erring mind, in turn, the sense deceives."

"The tribute most high to a head that is royal, Is love from a heart that loves liberty too."

"But there's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream."

"Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! Jehovah has triumphed—his people are free."

"Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, And multiply each through endless years,— One minute of heaven is worth them all."

"One morn a Peri at the gate Of Eden stood disconsolate."

"No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close, As the sun-flower turns on her god when he sets The same look which she turn'd when he rose."

"But the trail of the serpent is over them all."

"Oh, ever thus, from childhood's hour, I 've seen my fondest hopes decay; I never loved a tree or flower But 't was the first to fade away. I never nurs'd a dear gazelle, To glad me with its soft black eye, But when it came to know me well And love me, it was sure to die."

"Paradise itself were dim And joyless, if not shared with him!"

"It is only to the happy that tears are a luxury."

"Like Dead Sea fruits, that tempt the eye, But turn to ashes on the lips."

"Oh for a tongue to curse the slave Whose treason, like a deadly blight, Comes o'er the councils of the brave, And blasts them in their hour of might!"

"Beholding heaven, and feeling hell."

"Like the stain'd web that whitens in the sun, Grow pure by being purely shone upon."