Can you do better, riposted the wounded artiste? Yes. And she took the lyrics and hummed the tune that is used here, off the top of her head!
..my brother and I hitch-hiked to Bundoran, on the Atlantic coast of Donegal. to hear Dominic Behan perform: still a happy memory.
…a product of pure (or should that be, fevered, imagination).
… off to the pub at morning smoko for a “cure” but missing in action when the foreman looked for him later.
…where leprechauns frolic at the ends of rainbows and the beer is dyed green and quaintness rules the day to the deedle-lee-dee tootling of a tin whistle.
Based on the last letter written by Padraig Pearse to his mother…
closer to the hearts of many Australians than the callous real-politik practised by our major political parties.
Irish navvies built the rail, the roads the tunnels and canals in Britain and farther afield.