Streets of Laredo/Bard of Armagh
from How America Saved Irish Music by Marc Gunn & Jamie Haeuser
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lyrics
As I walked out in the streets of Laredo
As I walked out in Laredo one day,
I spied a poor cowboy, all wrapped in white linen
All wrapped in white linen and cold as the clay.
"I see by your outfit, that you are a cowboy."
These words he did say as I slowly passed by.
"Come sit down beside me and hear my sad story,
For I'm shot in the chest, and today I must die."
"'Twas once in the saddle I used to go dashing,
'Twas once in the saddle I used to go gay.
First down to Rosie's, and then to the card-house,
Got shot in the chest, and I'm dying today."
"Oh, beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly,
And play the dead march as you carry me along;
Take me to the green valley, there lay the sod o'er me,
For I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong."
Oh list' to the tale of a poor Irish harper,
And scorn not the strains of his old withered hands,
But remember those fingers, they once could move sharper,
To raise up the memory of his dear native land.
At a fair or a wake I could twist my shillelagh,
Or trip through a jig with my brogues bound with straw.
And all the pretty colleen around me assembled,
Loved bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh.
And when Sergeant Death with his cold arms embrace me,
And lulls me to sleep with sweet 'Erin-go-Bragh',
By the side of my Kathleen, my young wife, oh, place me,
Then forget Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh.
As I walked out in Laredo one day,
I spied a poor cowboy, all wrapped in white linen
All wrapped in white linen and cold as the clay.
"I see by your outfit, that you are a cowboy."
These words he did say as I slowly passed by.
"Come sit down beside me and hear my sad story,
For I'm shot in the chest, and today I must die."
"'Twas once in the saddle I used to go dashing,
'Twas once in the saddle I used to go gay.
First down to Rosie's, and then to the card-house,
Got shot in the chest, and I'm dying today."
"Oh, beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly,
And play the dead march as you carry me along;
Take me to the green valley, there lay the sod o'er me,
For I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong."
Oh list' to the tale of a poor Irish harper,
And scorn not the strains of his old withered hands,
But remember those fingers, they once could move sharper,
To raise up the memory of his dear native land.
At a fair or a wake I could twist my shillelagh,
Or trip through a jig with my brogues bound with straw.
And all the pretty colleen around me assembled,
Loved bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh.
And when Sergeant Death with his cold arms embrace me,
And lulls me to sleep with sweet 'Erin-go-Bragh',
By the side of my Kathleen, my young wife, oh, place me,
Then forget Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh.
credits
from How America Saved Irish Music,
released January 22, 2014
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about
Marc Gunn Atlanta, Georgia
Marc Gunn is a rhythm and folk musician inspired by Celtic culture, science fiction, fantasy, and cats--Sci F'Irish
music.
He breathes new life into the autoharp, which continues to surprise musical veterans and fans alike for its unique sound and spirited energy. It’s like a satirical jam session between The Clancy Brothers and Weird Al Yankovic.
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Apr 19Atlanta, GA
discography
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Mar 2024 -
Jan 2005 -
Feb 2022 -
Mar 2018