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The Corrs
The Corrs


Background information
Origin Dundalk, County Louth, Ireland
Genre(s) Folk-Rock
Rock
Pop
Celtic Rock
Years active 1990—2006
Label(s) Atlantic Records
Lava Records
143 Records
Website Website
Members
Sharon Corr
Andrea Corr
Caroline Corr
Jim Corr



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The Corrs Album


Home (2005)
2005
1.
2.
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4.
5.
6.
7.
Old Hag
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
Haste To The Wedding
. . .



Where Lagan streams sing lullabies, there blows a lily fair.
The twilight gleam is in her eye, the night is on her hair.
And like a lovesick lenashee, she hath my heart in thrall.
No life have I, no liberty, for love is Lord of all.

And sometimes when the beetles horn has lulled the eve to sleep,
I steal into her sheiling lorn and through the doorway creep.
There on the cricket's singing stone, she spares the bogwood fire
And hums in sad sweet and undertone the song of hearts desire.

Her welcome, like her love for me, is from her heart within

. . .



Last night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by
My mind being bent on rambling to Ireland I did fly
I stepped on board a vision and I followed with the wind
And I shortly came to anchor at the cross of Spancill Hill

It being the 23rd June the day before the fair
When Ireland's sons and daughters in crowds assembled there
The young and the old, the brave and the bold their journey to fulfill
There were jovial conversations at the fair of Spancill Hill

I went to see my neighbors to hear what they might say
The old ones were all dead and gone and the young one's turning grey
I met with the tailor Quigley, he's a bold as ever still
Sure he used to make my britches when I lived in Spancill Hill

I paid a flying visit to my first and only love
She's as white as any lily and as gentle as a dove
She threw her arms around me saying "Johnny I love you still
" Oh she's Ned the farmers daughter and the flower of Spancill HiII

I dreamt I held and kissed her as in the days of yore
She said, "Johnny you're only joking like many's the time before"
The cock he crew in the morning he crew both loud and shrill

. . .



Oh, Peggy Gordon you are my darling
Come sit you down upon my knee
Come tell to me the very reason
Why I am slighted so by thee

I'm so in love I can't deny it
My heart lies smothered in my breast
It's not for you to let the world know it
A troubled mind can know no rest

I did put my head to a cask of brandy
It was my fancy I do declare
For when I'm drinking I am thinking
And wishing Peggy Gordon was here

I wish I was away in Ingo
Far across the briny sea
Sailing o'er the deepest ocean
Where love nor care never bother me

I wish I was in some lonesome valley
Where womankind can not be found
Where the pretty small birds do change their voices
And every moment a different sound


. . .



Black is the color of my true love's hair.
His lips are like some roses fair
He has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands
I love the ground whereon he stands.

I love my love and well he knows,
I love the ground whereon he goes,
And I wish the day it soon will come
That he and I will be as one.

I'll go to the Clyde and I'll mourn and weep,
For satisfied I'll ne'er sleep.
I'll write him a letter, just a few short lines,
I'll suffer death ten thousand times.


. . .



Some say the heart is just like a wheel
When you bend it you can't mend it
And my love for you is like a sinking ship
And my heart is on that ship out on mid-ocean

They say that death is a tragedy
Comes once then it's over
But my one only wish is for that deep dark abyss
For what's the use of living with no true lover

And it's only love and it's only love
That can wreck a human being and turn him inside out

When harm is done no love can be won
I know it happens frequently
What I can't understand oh please God hold my hand
Why it should've happened to me

And it's only love and it's only love
That can wreck a human being and turn him inside out

(Repeat first line)


. . .


Buachaill ón Éirne mé is bhréagfainn féin cailín deas óg.
Ní iarrfainn bó spré léi, tá mé féin saibhir go leor
Is liom Corcaigh dá mhéid é, dhá thaobh an ghleanna, is Tír Eoghain,
Is mura n-athra' mé béasaí, is mé an t-oidhre ar chontae Mhuigheo.

Rachaidh mé amárach a dhéanamh leanna fán choill,
gan coite gan bád gan gráinín brach' ar bith liom,
ach duilliúir na gcraobh mar éide leaba os mo cheann
is óró, a sheacht m'anam déag thú, is tú ag féachaint orm anall.

Buachailleacht bó, mo leo, nár chleacht mise riamh
ach ag imirt is ag ól le hógmhná deasa fá shliabh.
Má chaill mé mo stór ní móide gur chaill mé mo chiall
Is ní mó liom do phóg ná an bhróg atá ar caitheamh le bliain.

Translation

I'm a boy from Lough Erne and I could charm a nice young girl
I would not ask for her wealth as I am rich enough myself
I own a good part of Cork, two sides of the glen in Tyrone

And not to repeat myself I'm the heir of County Mayo
I will go tomorrow to make ale in the wood
Without a cot without a boat without a pinch of gruel with me
But leaves of the branches as bedclothes over my head
And think well done for you as you watch me from over there

A cowherd, my pet, I've never been accustomed to be
Instead of playing and drinking with the nice young women
on the mountain side
If I lost my riches I probably didn't lose my senses
And your kiss is no more to me now than a shoe worn for a year

. . .

Old Hag

[No lyrics]

. . .



Ye hills and dales and flowery vales
That lie near the Moorlough Shore.
Ye winds that blow by borden's grove.
Will I ever hear you more

Where the primrose grows
And the violet blows.
Where the trout and salmon play.

With line and hook delight I took
To spend my youthful days.
Last night I went to see my love,
And to hear what she might say.

To see if she'd take pity on me,
Lest I might go away.
She said, "I love that Irish lad,
And he was my only joy,
And ever since I saw his face
I've loved that soldier boy."

Perhaps your soldier lad is lost
Sailing over the sea of Maine.
Or perhaps he is gone with some other lover,
You may never see him again.
Well if my Irish lad is lost,
He's the one I do adore,
And seven years I will wait for him
By the banks of the Moorlough Shore.

Farewell to Sinclaire's castle grand.
Farewell to the foggy dew.
Where the linen waves like bleaching silk
And the falling stream runs still
Near there I spent my youthful days
But alas they are all gone
For cruelty has banished me

. . .


Lyrics & Music By: Philip Lynott & Jimmy Bain

The girl's a fool, she broke the rules, she hurt him hard
This time he will break down
She's lost his trust and so she must know all is lost
The system has broke down
Romance has broke down

This boy is cracking up
This boy has broken down
This boy is cracking up
This boy has broke down

She plays it hard, she plays it tough
But that's enough - the love is over
She's broke his heart and that is rough
But in the end he'll soon recover
The romance is over

This boy is cracking up
This boy has broken down (yeah yeah)
This boy is cracking up
This boy has broke down

(Trumpet solo - joined by Sharon on violin)

This boy is cracking up
This boy has broken down (yeah yeah)
This boy is cracking up
This boy has broke down

I've been spending my money in the old town
It's not the same honey, with you not around.
I've been spending my time in the old town
Sure miss you honey - you're not around
You're not around this old town

Ola

This boy is cracking up
This boy has broken down (yeah yeah)
This boy is cracking up
This boy has broke down

This boy is cracking up
This boy has broken down (yeah yeah)
This boy is cracking up
This boy has broke down

. . .



This old house is falling down around my ears
I'm drowning in a river of my tears
When all my will is gone you hold me sway
I need you at the dimming of the day

You pull me like the moon pulls on the tide
You know just where I keep my better side

What days have come to keep us far apart
A broken promise or a broken heart
Now all the bonnie birds have wheeled away
I need you at the dimming of the day

Come the night you're only what I want
Come the night you could be my confident

I see you on the street in company
Why don't you come and ease your mind with me
I'm living for the night we steal away
I need you at the dimming of the day

. . .



Is a Bhríd Óg Ní Mháille
'S tú d'fhág mo chroí cráite
'S chuir tú arraingeacha
An bháis fríd cheartlár mo chroí
Tá na céadta fear i ngrá
Le d'éadan ciúin náireach
Is go dtug tú barr breáchtacht'
Ar Thír Oirghiall más fíor

Níl ní ar bith is áille
Ná'n ghealach os cionn a' tsáile r
Ná bláth bán na n-airne
Bíos ag fás ar an draighean
Ó siúd mar bíos mo ghrá-sa
Níos trilsí le breáchtacht
Béilín meala na háilleacht'
Nach ndearna riamh claon

Is buachaill deas óg mé
'Tá triall chun mo phósta
'S ní buan i bhfad beo mé
Mura bhfaighidh mé mo mhian
A chuisle is a stóirín
Déan réidh agus bí romhamsa
Cionn deireanach den Domhnach
Ar Bhóithrín Dhroim Sliabh

Is tuirseach 's brónach
A chaithimse an Domhnach
Mo hata 'mo dhorn liom
'S mé ag osnaíl go trom
'S mé ag amharc ar na bóithre
'Mbíonn mo ghrá-sa ag gabhail ann
'S í ag fear eile pósta

. . .

Haste To The Wedding

[No lyrics]

. . .


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