Welcome to another one of my song books. This one is a compilation of Scottish and Irish songs that I have personally learned how to sing or have heard sung many a time.
It is my sincerest hope that you enjoy these songs as much as I did when I first learned or heard them. They are truly diamonds in the ruff.

The Wild Mountain Thyme
O the summer time has come And the trees are sweetly blooming And wild mountain thyme Grows around the purple heather Will you go, lassie, go?
And we'll all go together To pull wild mountain thyme All around the purple heather Will you go, lassie, go?
I will build my love a tower By yon clear crystal fountain And on it I will pile All the flowers of the mountain Will you go, lassie, go?
And we'll all go together To pull wild mountain thyme All around the purple heather Will you go, lassie, go?
I will range through the wilds And the deep land so dreary and return with the spoils to the bower o' my dearie Will ye go lassie go ?
And we'll all go together To pull wild mountain thyme All around the purple heather Will you go, lassie, go?
If my true love she'll not come then I'll surely find another To pull wild mountain thyme All around the purple heather
And we'll all go together To pull wild mountain thyme All around the purple heather Will you go, lassie, go?

Scotland the Brave
Hark when the night is falling Hear! hear the pipes are calling, Loudly and proudly calling, Down thro' the glen. There where the hills are sleeping, Now feel the blood a-leaping, High as the spirits of the old Highland men.
Towering in gallant fame, Scotland my mountain hame, High may your proud standards gloriously wave, Land of my high endeavour, Land of the shining river, Land of my heart for ever, Scotland the brave.
High in the misty Highlands, Out by the purple islands, Brave are the hearts that beat Beneath Scottish skies. Wild are the winds to meet you, Staunch are the friends that greet you, Kind as the love that shines from fair maiden's eyes.
Towering in gallant fame, Scotland my mountain hame, High may your proud standards gloriously wave, Land of my high endeavour, Land of the shining river, Land of my heart for ever, Scotland the brave.
Far off in sunlit places, Sad are the Scottish faces, Yearning to feel the Kiss Of sweet Scottish rain. Where tropic skies are beaming, Love sets the heart a-dreaming, Longing and dreaming for the homeland again.
Towering in gallant fame, Scotland my mountain hame, High may your proud standards gloriously wave, Land of my high endeavour, Land of the shining river, Land of my heart for ever, Scotland the brave.

Follow Me Up To Carlow
Lift, Mac Cahir Oge your face Brooding o'er the old disgrace That Black Fitzwilliam stormed your place And drove you to the fern, O! Grey said victory was sure Soon the fire-brand he'd secure Until he met at Glenmalure With Feagh Mac Hugh o' Byrne O!
Curse and swear, Lord Kildaire, Feagh will do what Feagh will dare. Now, Fitzwilliam, have a care, Fallen in your star low. Up with halberd, out with sword, On we go for by the Lord, Feagh Mac Hugh has given the word "Follow me up to Carlow."
See the swords of Glen Imaal Flashing o'er the English Pale See all the children of the Gael Beneath O'Byrne's banners. Rooster of a fighting stock Would you let a Saxon cock Crow out upon an Irish rock? Fly up and teach him manners.
Curse and swear, Lord Kildaire, Feagh will do what Feagh will dare. Now, Fitzwilliam, have a care, Fallen in your star low. Up with halberd, out with sword, On we go for by the Lord, Feagh Mac Hugh has given the word "Follow me up to Carlow."
>From Trassagart to Clonmore There flows a stream of Saxon gore. Great is Rory Oge More At sending the loons to Hades. White is sick and Grey is fled Now for Black Fitzwilliam's head We'll send it over, dripping red To Liza and her ladies.
Curse and swear, Lord Kildaire, Feagh will do what Feagh will dare. Now, Fitzwilliam, have a care, Fallen in your star low. Up with halberd, out with sword, On we go for by the Lord, Feagh Mac Hugh has given the word "Follow me up to Carlow."
Lift, Mac Cahir Oge your face Brooding o'er the old disgrace That Black Fitzwilliam stormed your place And drove you to the fern, O! Grey said victory was sure Soon the fire-brand he'd secure Until he met at Glenmalure With Feagh Mac Hugh o' Byrne O!
Curse and swear, Lord Kildaire, Feagh will do what Feagh will dare. Now, Fitzwilliam, have a care, Fallen in your star low. Up with halberd, out with sword, On we go for by the Lord, Feagh Mac Hugh has given the word "Follow me up to Carlow."

Gypsy Rover
The gypsy rover came over the hill Down through the valley so shady, He whistled and he sang 'til the greenwoods rang, And he won the heart of a lady.
Ah-de-do, ah-de-do-da-day, Ah-de-do, ah-de-da-ay He whistled and he sang 'til the greenwoods rang, And he won the heart of a lady.
She left her father's castle gates She left her own fine lover She left her servants and her state To follow the gypsy rover.
Ah-de-do, ah-de-do-da-day, Ah-de-do, ah-de-da-ay He whistled and he sang 'til the greenwoods rang, And he won the heart of a lady.
Her father saddled up his fastest steed And roamed the valleys all over Sought his daughter at great speed And the whistling gypsy rover.
Ah-de-do, ah-de-do-da-day, Ah-de-do, ah-de-da-ay He whistled and he sang 'til the greenwoods rang, And he won the heart of a lady.
He came at last to a mansion fine, Down by the river Claydee And there was music and there was wine, For the gypsy and his lady.
Ah-de-do, ah-de-do-da-day, Ah-de-do, ah-de-da-ay He whistled and he sang 'til the greenwoods rang, And he won the heart of a lady.
"He is no gypsy, my father" she said "But lord of these lands all over, And I shall stay 'til my dying day With my whistling gypsy rover."
Ah-de-do, ah-de-do-da-day, Ah-de-do, ah-de-da-ay He whistled and he sang 'til the greenwoods rang, And he won the heart of a lady.

Jug Of Punch
'Twas early, early, in the month of June I was sitting with my glass and spoon. A small bird sat on an ivy bunch And the song he sang was a jug of punch.
Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie A small bird sat on an ivy bunch And the song he sang was a jug of punch
If I were sick, and very bad And were not able to go or stand, I would not think it at all amiss To pledge my shoes for a jug of punch.
Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie A small bird sat on an ivy bunch And the song he sang was a jug of punch
What more diversion can a man desire Than to sit him down by a snug turf fire, Upon his knee a pretty wench And upon his table a jug of punch.
Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie A small bird sat on an ivy bunch And the song he sang was a jug of punch
And when I'm dead and in my grave No costly tombstone will I have, I'll dig a grave both wide and deep With a jug of punch at my head and feet.

The Tinker
I am the bravest tinker that lives beneath the sun If you have any work to do, you shall have it well done Yes indeed you shall, don't you know you shall To my right falooral laddie, yes, indeed you shall
The lady came to the door and asked me could I stop And could I mend a rusty pan that never held a drop Yes indeed I can, don't you know I can To my right falooral laddie, yes, indeed I can
She took me up the stairs for to show me what to do She fell on the featherbed and I fell on it too Yes indeed I did, don't you know I did To my right falooral laddie, yes, indeed I did
I put my hammer in her hand that with it she might knock To make her husband to believe that I was at my work Yes indeed I was, don't you know I was To my right falooral laddie, yes, indeed I was
She put her hand into her purse and pulled out twenty pound Take this me jolly tinker and we'll have another round Yes indeed we will, don't you know we will To my right falooral laddie, yes, indeed we will
Oh, I plugged her in the kitchen, I plugged her in the hall And the servants cried, The Devil, are you going to plug us all Oh indeed I'm not, don't you know I'm not To my right falooral laddie, no, indeed I'm not
Well, I've been a jolly tinker these thirty years and more But such a rusty pan as that I never plugged before No indeed I didn't, don't you know I didn't To my right falooral laddie, no, indeed I didn't

TOO-A-LOO-RA-LOO-RALI- An Irish Lullaby
Over in Killarney Many years ago, Me Mither sang a song to me In tones so sweet and low. Just a simple little ditty, In her good ould Irish way, And l'd give the world if she could sing That song to me this day.
Chorus: "Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li, Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry! Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li, Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby."
Oft in dreams I wander To that cot again, I feel her arms a-huggin' me As when she held me then. And I hear her voice a -hummin' To me as in days of yore, When she used to rock me fast asleep Outside the cabin door.

Whiskey in the Jar
As I was going over the Kilmagenny mountain I met with captain Farrell and his money he was counting. I first produced my pistol, and the produced my rapier. Said stand and deliver, for I am a bold deceiver,
musha ring dumma do damma da ( tai jotain ) whack for the daddy 'ol whack for the daddy 'ol there's whiskey in the jar
I counted out his money, and it made a pretty penny. I put it in my pocket and I brought it home to Jenny. She said and she swore, that she never would deceive me, but the devil take the women, for they never can be easy
musha ring dumma do damma da ( tai jotain ) whack for the daddy 'ol whack for the daddy 'ol there's whiskey in the jar
I went into my chamber, for to take a slumber, I dreamt of gold and jewels and for sure it was no wonder. But Jenny took my charges and she filled them up with water, and send for captain Farrel to be ready for the slaughter.
musha ring dumma do damma da ( tai jotain ) whack for the daddy 'ol whack for the daddy 'ol there's whiskey in the jar
It was early in the morning, before I rose to travel, the guards were all around me and likewise captain Farrel. I first produced my pistol, for she stole away my rapier, but I couldn't shoot the water so a prisoner I was taken.
musha ring dumma do damma da ( tai jotain ) whack for the daddy 'ol whack for the daddy 'ol there's whiskey in the jar
If anyone can aid me, it's my brother in the army, if I can find his station in Cork or in Killarney. And if he'll come and save me, we'll go roving near Kilkenny, and I swear he'll treat me better than me darling sportling Jenny
musha ring dumma do damma da ( tai jotain ) whack for the daddy 'ol whack for the daddy 'ol there's whiskey in the jar
Now some men take delight in the drinking and the roving, but others take delight in the gambling and the smoking. But I take delight in the juice of the barley, and courting pretty Jenny in the morning bright and early
musha ring dumma do damma da ( tai jotain ) whack for the daddy 'ol whack for the daddy 'ol there's whiskey in the jar