Aye, tis a long long way to Áth na Sceire

From the village Brí Chualann

Some say they can make it in ha’ a day

But for ithers, they never can.

I wa’ just sixteen when I first knew

How it feels to be man

When a met a man who ha’ daughters, two

Fair Colleen and dark Bethanne

He arrived by way of a Scottish fleet

Of spring trawl fishermen

While I thought Bethanne to be quite sweet

It was Colleen I just ha’ ta ken.

So it ‘twas fate that took a helpin’ hand

Let Colleen slip as she stepped ashore

And I was there to catch her trip

Lent a hand, but nuthin’ more

But Colleen was an angel fair

Eyes that could light the night

For as she fell, she feign ripped my shirt

An’ she demanded to make it right

So I lent that shirt from off ma’ back

So she could sew that tare

‘twas the morning light afor she brought it back

Even now I see her standing there

Ah, the mornin’ wind is a welcome wind

For it blows the fleet to lee

And the sailors know in the winds that blow

There is riches from the sea.

Aye, Colleen smiled, and the sun arose,

And shone dayfire in her hair

And it gleamed across her fine freckled nose

As she spoke to me her dare

I can outrun all but the fastest one

I bet I’ll outrun even ye

To the point anon, may the winner dun

And collect at will, their fee!

With that she flew along the strand

Aye, her skirts a billowing high

And I scarce could close on her swift white heels

That it seemed that she could fly.

When we reached the point a ha’ mile from Brí

She was a lead, an’ I behind

So she tossed her hair, gave the smile to me

Said, kiss me now it you don’t mind.

Now through all the years, I still taste salt

When’er I think of her

For I pulled her in to the briny surf

While her fee I did confer

That night I scarce could fall asleep abed

For the lightening in my mind

Let the thunder roar through my weary head

Tell what my Irish luck did find!

But fate, cold fate, 

Didn’t sleep for aye, no, n’er

to that noontide port, in it’s shadows short

Brought its shiver to the air

When upon the docks arrived a handsome heir

Just a lark, said his father dark

He stood swarthy, tall, with wavy hair

On a day trip, let’s embark!

Who knows just how the story grew

From that fated afternoon

How the rich heir’s Dad fell overboard

And was rescued by Muldoon

So to fete his life, and celebrate

He had Muldoon bring his kin

To the castle by Anneskerry

And his kin: Bethanne, Colleen!

To meet his son, eigth of Powerscourts

A certain Merwyn R. Wingfield

No doubt they spent the day in sports

To his charms Colleen did yield

Though but a fisherman’s daughter she

Old Wingfield owed so deeply for his life

That when his son said, “Please let me”

Powerscourt let her be his wife.

Now my angel’s seen along high falls

And a crossin’ Áth na Sceire

And sometimes I hear when Colleen calls

But it’s never once for me.

I grieved my loss in Bethanne’s ears

She even offered me her grace

But I couldn’t bear to show the tears

Of loving in second place.

So I stowed my gear and took a ship

Far, as far e’er it could take

And I ne’er e’er made my way back to Brí

For I feared, lest my heart break.

Aye, tis a long long way to Áth na Sceire

From the village Brí Chualann

Some say they can make it in ha’ a day

But for ithers, they never can.