lliri blau

el qui canta els seus mals espanta…

De Roquetes Vinc

De Roquetes vinc, de Roquetes vinc, de Roquetes baixo.
Agulles de cap, agulles de cap, agulles de ganxo.

De Roquetes vinc, de Roquetes vinc, de Roquetes baixo.
Agulles de cap, agulles de cap, agulles de ganxo.

Surt de seguida Cinteta, surt de seguida al balcó,
si no vols que faci a trossos les cordes del guitarró,
si no vols que faci a trossos les cordes del guitarró.

Les nostres jotes los parlen de coses de cada dia,
del treball i de la vida, d’amor i geografia,
i de consells populars, quina gran filosofia.

A la jota, jota del ganxo del llum
que si no t’apartes te’l tiro damunt.
De les allabances i dels malparlats
i dels maltequiero que Déu mos ne guard.

Tan si fa fred o calor, com si la terra està humida,
mos ho emprenem sempre en calma, que tot té la seua mida
i mos agrada cantar-li al més senzill de la vida.

I estes coses del folklore alguns les han oblidat,
perquè ja no els interessa que es digue la veritat,
perquè ja no els interessa que es digue la veritat.

Ai quin sol quin sol, ai quin sol saleró
Ai com ballariem si hi hagués guitarró.
Quan te casaràs sabràs lo que es bo.
Si al casar ho encertes ja tens feta la sort.

Uns diuen que això es cantava, altres que si encara es canta,
uns i altres tenen raó, perquè es cantava i es canta,
uns i altres tenen raó, perquè es cantava i es canta.

Al que crida tots l’escolten, no fan cas del que no crida.
Tots los que treballen callen, lo món és una mentida.
Per aixó crido ben fort que vull un riu ple de vida!

Alça l’aleta, polleta, no em picaràs pollastret,
que la senyora Pepeta se casarà en Joanet,
se casarà en Joanet, se casarà en Joanet.
Alça l’aleta polleta, no em picaràs pollastret

El Ebro nace en Reinosa y pasa por el Pilar
y en el sur de Cataluña queremos que llegue al mar
y conservar nuestro Delta, los musclos y el calamar.

No perdem lo bon humor i conservem la moral,
ho expliquem amb alegria perquè és lo més natural,
que som la sal de la terra i no una terra de sal.

Al carrer del mig no hi volem anar
perquè l’altre nit mos van arroixar,
mos van arroixar, mos van arroixar.
Al carrer del mig no hi volem anar.

S’ha cantat moltes vegades les virtuts d’anar a peu,
poder escoltar i olorar i mirar tot lo que es veu,
poder escoltar i olorar i mirar tot lo que es veu.

Mira si hay recorrido mundo que he estado en los Freginales,
Mas d’en Verge, La Galera y el Mas de los Barberanes,
y en esta tierra he quedado de ustedes enamorado.

Ai pistoles, pistoles, pistoles,
ai pecatis mundi, ai miserenobis,
Primentons, primentons i tomates
la mas mala quiente son los estudiantes.

I si de tan voltar pobles
algun dia mos perdem,
si no saben on trobar-mos
no so pensen ni un moment,
collint olivetes fargues
a la muntanya estarem.

I a vostés que mos escolten
els desitgem lo millor:
que es quedin ben plens d’amor
i lliures de malalties
som Quico, Jaume, i el Noi
i el Mut de les Ferreries.

Ai quin sol quin sol, ai quin sol saleró
Ai com ballariem si hi hagués guitarró.
Quan te casaràs sabràs lo que es bo.
Si al casar ho encertes ja tens feta la sort.

De Roquetes vinc, de Roquetes vinc, de Roquetes baixo.
Agulles de cap, agulles de cap, agulles de ganxo.

Anuncis

Havanera

 

Vaig com loco
per tornar a vore’t,
tocar es teus cabells,
besar-te a sa boca…
I ensumar es perfum
que t’enrevolta…

I és que et duc tan a dintre meu
que no res sé fer
si no et tenc devora…
I si no vols que em mori, torna,
torna prest…!

Torna que em mor de ganes per cantar-te
¡ai!, una havanera!
Te la vaig escriure un vespre
que t’enyorava i que tu no hi eres…

Té una coseta dolça
que es qui l’escolta
¡ai!, s’enamora!

Com de sa cadència hermosa
des teu cosset
i des seu encant,
que com un jonc s’engronça!

Quan tu passes s’aire es gira
per mirar-te
i fins i tot la mar
s’atura de fer ones!

Vaig com loco
per tornar a vore’t
tocar es teus cabells
besar-te a sa boca…
i ensumar es perfum
que t’enrevolta…

I és que et duc tan a dintre meu
que no res sé fer
si no et tenc devora…
I si no vols que em mori, torna,
torna prest…!

Torna que em mor de ganes per cantar-te
¡ai!, una havanera!
Te la vaig escriure un vespre
que t’enyorava i que tu no hi eres…

Té una coseta dolça
que es qui l’escolta
¡ai!, s’enamora!

Com de sa cadència hermosa
des teu cosset
i des seu encant,
que com un jonc s’engronça!

Quan tu passes s’aire es gira
per mirar-te
i fins i tot la mar
s’atura de fer ones!

i fins i tot la mar…
s’atura de fer ones…!

i fins i tot la mar…
s’atura de fer ones…!

Torna que em mor de ganes per cantar-te
¡ai! una havanera!
Te la vaig escriure un vespre
que t’enyorava i que tu no hi eres…

Té una coseta dolça
que es qui l’escolta
¡ai!, s’enamora…!

Com de sa cadència hermosa
des teu cosset
i des seu encant,
que com un jonc s’engronça!

 

Havanera

Si a la Pedrera anàrem
lo que faríem primer de tot
és dir-li a Maria que mos posara
un got o dos.

Si no en tenim prou
li’n farem posar més.
Ja li ho pagarem, ja li ho pagarem
quan tingam diners.

Passà un got o dos o tres
per a nosaltres, per als de més.

A les palmeres mo n’anirem, mo n’anirem;
si voleu vindre, si voleu vindre.
Un xic moreno també vindra, també vindra.
Si no és moreno no ballarà.

Si te pregunten si saps ballar.
Que sí senyor, que no senyor.
“A mí me gusta ser bailaor”.

A les palmeres mo n’anirem, mo n’anirem;
si voleu vindre, si voleu vindre.
Passà un got o dos o tres
per a nosaltres, per als de més.

Jo tinc una peixcatera
que agarra gamba a volandes.
S’agarren de la cistella
i els dos de parella
se’n van per ahí.

Pagell, qui em compra?
Qui em compra pagell?
Pagell, qui em compra?
Que el porte fresquet!
Pagell, qui em compra?
Qui em compra pagell?
Pagell, qui em compra?
Pagell, qui em compra?
Que el porte fresquet!

Passà un got o dos o tres
per a nosaltres, per als de més.

Canten “Al Tall” i Maria del Mar Bonet.

 

Rose of Allendale

The moon was bright, the night was clear.
No breeze came over the sea
when Mary left her highland home
and wandered forth with me.
The flowers bedecked the mountainside,
fragrance filled the vale
but by far the sweetest flower there
was the Rose of Allendale

Oh, the Rose of Allendale,
sweet Rose of Allendale!
By far the sweetest flower there
was the Rose of Allendale

Where’er I wander East or West
though Fate began to lure,
a solace still to me was she
in sorrow’s lonely hour.
When tempests lashed our gallant barque
and rent her quivering sail,
one maiden’s form withstood the storm,
it was the Rose of Allendale.

Oh, the Rose of Allendale,
Sweet Rose of Allendale!
One maiden’s form withstood the storm,
it was the Rose of Allendale

And when my fevered lips were parched
on Africa’s buring sands,
she whispered hopes of happiness
and tales of distant lands.
My life had been a wilderness;
unblessed by Fortune’s wheel,
had Fate not linked my love to her’s,
the Rose of Allendale.

Oh, the Rose of Allendale,
Sweet Rose of Allendale!
Had Fate not linked my love to her’s,
The Rose of Allendale.

Lord of the Dance

 

I danced in the morning when the world was young
I danced in the moon and the stars and the sun
I came down from heaven and I danced on the earth
At Bethlehem I had my birth

Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he

I danced for the scribes and the Pharisees
They wouldn’t dance, they wouldn’t follow me
I danced for the fishermen James and John
They came with me so the dance went on

Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he

I danced on the Sabbath and I cured the lame
The holy people said it was a shame
They ripped, they stripped, they hung me high
Left me there on the cross to die

Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he

I danced on a Friday when the world turned black
It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back
They buried my body, they thought I was gone
But I am the dance, and the dance goes on

Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he

They cut me down and I leapt up high
I am the life that will never, never die
I’ll live in you if you’ll live in me
I am the Lord of the dance, said he

Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the lord of the dance, said he
And I lead you all, wherever you may be
And I lead you all in the dance, said he

Carrickfergus

I wish I was in Carrickfergus
Only for nights in Ballygrand
I would swim over the deepest ocean
Only for nights in Ballygrand
But the sea is wide and I cannot swim over
And neither have I the wings to fly
I wish I had a handsome boatsman
To ferry me over my love and I

(This verse is only sung on the 40 years cd)
My childhood days bring back sad reflections
Of happy times there spent so long ago
My boyhood friends and my own relations
Have all past on now with the melting snow
So I’ll spend my days in this endless roving
Soft is the grass and shore, my bed is free
Oh to be home now in carrickfergus
On the long rode down to the salty sea

Now in Kilkenny it is reported
On marble stone there as black as ink
With gold and silver I would support her
But I’ll sing no more now til I get a drink
Cause I’m drunk today and I’m seldom sober
A handsome rover from town to town
Ah but I’m sick now my days are number
Come all me young men and lay me down
Come all me young men and lay me down.

Will You Come To The Bower

Will you come to the bower o’er the free boundless ocean,
where stupendous waves roll in thundering motion,
Where the mermaids are seen and the wild tempest gather
to loved Erin the green, the dear land of our fathers.
Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower.

Will you come to the land of O’Neill and O’Donnell,
of Lord Lucan, of old and the immortal O’Connell.
Where Brian chased the Dane and St. Patrick the vermin
and whose valleys remain still most beautiful and
charming.
Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower

You can visit Benburb and the storied Blackwater
where Owen Roe met Monroe and his chieftains did slaughter.
Where the lambs skip and play on the mossy all over
From those bright golden views to enchanting Rostrevor.
Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower.

You can see Dublin City and the fine groves of Blarney;
the Ban, Boyne, the Pillar and the lakes of Killarney.
You can ride on the tide on the broad majestic Shannon,
you can sail round Lough Neagh and see storied
Dungannon.
Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower.

Will you come and awake our dear land from its slumber
and her fetters we’ll break, links that long have encumbered.
And the air will resound with Hosannahs to greet you;
On the shore will be found gallant Irishmen to greet you.
Will you come, will you, will you, will you come to the bower.

Maids When You’re Young

 

An old man came courting me, hey ding dooram day
An old man came courting me, me being young
An old man came courting me, all for to marry me
Maids, when you’re young never wed an old man

[Chorus:]
Because he’s got no faloorum, fadidle eye-oorum
He’s got no faloorum, fadidle all day
He’s got no faloorum, he’s lost his ding doorum
Oh Maids When You’re Young, Never Wed An Old Man

When we went to church, hey ding dooram day
When we went to church, me being young
When we went to church, he left me in the lurch
Maids When You’re Young, Never Wed An Old Man

[Chorus]

When we went to bed, hey ding doorum day
When we went to bed, me being young
When we went to bed, he lay like he was dead
Maids when you’re young never wed an old man

[Chorus]

When he went to sleep, hey ding doorum day
When he went to sleep, me being young
When he went to sleep, out of bed I did creep
Into the arms of a handsome young man

And I found his faloorum, fadidle eye-oorum
I found his faloorum, fadidle all day
I found his faloorum, he got my ding doorum
So maids when you’re young never wed an old man

Home Boys Home

Oh well, who wouldn’t be a sailor lad a ‘Sailin’ on the main
To gain the goodwill of his captain’s good name
He came ashore one evening for to be
And that was the beginning of my own true love and me

And it’s home, boys home
Home I’d like to be, home for a while in my own coun-try
Where the oak and the ash and the bonny rowan tree
Are all a-growing green in the old country

Well I asked her for a candle for to light me up to bed
And likewise for a handkerchief to tie around me head
She tended to me needs like a young maid ought to do
So then I says to her: ‘Now won’t you leap in with me too?’

And it’s home, boys home
Home I’d like to be, home for a while in my own coun-try
Where the oak and the ash and the bonny rowan tree
Are all a-growing green in the old country

Well she jumped into bed, making no alarm
Thinking a young sailor lad could do to her no harm
Well I hugged her and I kissed her the whole nightlong
Till she wished the short night had been seven years long

And its home, boys home
Home I’d like to be, home for a while in my own coun-try
Where the oak and the ash and the bonny rowan tree
Are all a-growing green in the old country

Well early next morning the sailor lad arose
And into Mary’s apron threw a handful of gold
Saying, ‘Take this me dear for the mischief that I’ve done
For tonight I fear I’ve left you with a daughter or a son’

And it’s home, boys home
Home I’d like to be, home for a while in my own coun-try
Where the oak and the ash and the bonny rowan tree
Are all a-growing green in the old country

‘Well, if it be a girl child, send her out to nurse
With gold in her pocket and with silver in her purse
And if it be a boy child he’ll wear the jacket blue
And go climbing up the rigging like his daddy used to do’

Maidens, a warning take by me
And never let a sailor lad an inch above your knee
For I trusted one and he beguiled me
He left me with a pair of twins to dangle on me knee

And it’s home, boys home
Home I’d like to be, home for a while in my own coun-try
Where the oak and the ash and the bonny rowan tree
Are all a-growing green in the old country

Bergvagabunden

Wenn wir erklimmen schwindelnde Höhen,
steigen dem Gipfelkreuz zu,
brennt eine Sehnsucht in uns’rem Herzen,
die lässt uns nimmermehr in Ruh.

Sonnige Berge, Felsen und Höhen,
Bergvagabunden sind wir, ja wir!
Sonnige Berge, Felsen und Höhen,
Bergvagabunden sind wir.

Mit Seil und Haken alles zu wagen,
so hängen wir in der Wand.
Wolken, sie ziehen, Edelweiß blühen,
wir klettern mit sicherer Hand.

Das ist das Leben, wie wir es lieben,
Bergvagabunden sind wir, ja wir!
Sonnige Berge, Felsen und Höhen,
Bergvagabunden sind wir.

Beim Alpenglühen heimwärts wir ziehen,
die Berge, sie leuchten in rot.
Wir kommen wieder, denn wir sind Brüder,
Brüder auf Leben und Tod.

Heil euch, ihr Berge, Felsen und Höhen,
Bergvagabunden sind wir, ja wir!
Sonnige Berge, Felsen und Höhen,
Bergvagabunden sind wir.

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