Shane MacGowan & The Popes

Shane MacGowan and the Popes - Across The Broad Atlantic (Live)

DETAILS:

LIVE in New York on St Paddy's Day 2001!
Released: 25, Feb - 2002

TRACK LIST

01 |
 If I Should Fall From Grace With God
02 |
 Rock+Roll Paddy
03 |
 Nancy Whiskey
04 |
 A Rainy Night In Soho
05 |
 Poor Paddy Works On The Railway
06 |
 The Broad Majestic Shannon
07 |
 Popes Instrumental - My Ballyvourney Love/ The Limpin General / Bag Of Chips
08 |
 Dirty Old Town
09 |
 Mother Mo Chroi
10 |
 Body Of An American
11 |
 Granuaille
12 |
 More Pricks Than Kicks
13 |
 Aisling
14 |
 A Pair Of Brown Eyes
15 |
 Streams Of Whiskey
16 |
 Lonesome Highway
17 |
 Angel Of Death
18 |
 Sick Bed Of Cuchulainn
19 |
 The Irish Rover
20 |
 Fairytale Of New York

Lyrics

If I should fall from grace with god
Where no doctor can relieve me
If I'm buried 'neath the sod
But the angels won't receive me

Let me go boys
Let me go boys
Let me go down in the mud
Where the rivers all run dry

This land was always ours
Was the proud land of our fathers
It belongs to us and them
Not to any of the others

Let them go boys
Let them go boys
Let them go down in the mud
Where the rivers all run dry

Bury me at sea
Where no murdered ghost can haunt me
If I rock upon the waves
No corpse can lie upon me

It's coming up three boys
Keeps coming up three boys
Let them go down in the mud
Where the rivers all run dry

If I should fall from grace with god
Where no doctor can relieve me
If I'm buried 'neath the sod
And still the angels won't receive me

Let me go boys
Let me go boys
Let me go down in the mud
Where the rivers all run dry
I'm the lowest of the low
I'm the sickest of the sick
They let me out the funny farm
Just to put me in the nick
Then they let me outta the hole
Just to crush me on the dole
I'm the lowest of the low
A rockin boppin lunatic

Whack for me daddy
I'm a rock'n'roll paddy
Whack for me daddy
I'm a rock'n'roll queen
Whack for me daddy
I'm a rock'n'roll paddy
Stick another record
in the record machine

Here's to Geno, here's to Eddie
Here's to sad songs Big O sings
Here's a letter from Elvis Presley
Big Tom is still the King

I will stalk them in the back seats
I will stalk them in the bars
Rape their women and scare their children
Burn them in their brand new cars
As I went down through Glasgow city
Just to see what I might spy
What should I see but Nancy Whiskey
A playful twinkle in her eye

Whiskey, Whiskey, Nancy Whiskey
Whiskey, Whiskey, Nancy Ohh

I bought her, I drank her, I had another
Ran out of money, so I did steal
She ran me ragged, Nancy Whiskey
For seven years, a rollin' wheel

Whiskey, Whiskey, Nancy Whiskey
Whiskey, Whiskey, Nancy Ohh

The more I held her, the more I loved her
Nancy had her spell on me
All I knew was lovely Nancy
The things I needed I could not see

Whiskey, Whiskey, Nancy Whiskey
Whiskey, Whiskey, Nancy Ohh

As I awoke to slake my thirst
As I tried crawling from my bed
I fell down flat, I could not stagger
Nancy had me by the legs

Whiskey, Whiskey, Nancy Whiskey
Whiskey, Whiskey, Nancy Ohh

Come on landlandy, what's the owing
Tell me what there is to pay
Fifteen shillings that's the reckoning
Now pay me quickly and go away

Whiskey, Whiskey, Nancy Whiskey
Whiskey, Whiskey, Nancy Ohh
Whiskey, Whiskey, Nancy Whiskey
Whiskey, Whiskey, Nancy Ohh
I've been loving you a long time
Down all the years, down all the days
And I've cried for all your troubles
Smiled at your funny little ways
We watched our friends grow up together
And we saw them as they fell
Some of them fell into Heaven
Some of them fell into Hell

I took shelter from a shower
And I stepped into your arms
On a rainy night in Soho
The wind was whistling all its charms
I sang you all my sorrows
You told me all your joys
Whatever happened to that old song
To all those little girls and boys

Now the song is nearly over
We may never find out what it means
But there's a light I hold before me
And you're the measure of my dreams
The measure of my dreams

Sometimes I wake up in the morning
The gingerlady by my bed
Covered in a cloak of silence
I hear you in my head
I'm not singing for the future
I'm not dreaming of the past
I'm not talking of the fist time
I never think about the last

Now the song is nearly over
We may never find out what it means
Still there's a light I hold before me
You're the measure of my dreams
The measure of my dreams
In eighteen hundred and forty-one
Me corduroy breeches I put on
Me corduroy breeches I put on
To work upon the railway, the railway
I'm weary of the railway
Poor Paddy works on the railway

In eighteen hundred and forty-two
From Hartlepool I moved to Crewe
Found meself a job to do
Working on the railway

I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling stitches,
Dancing on the line
Still working on the railway

In eighteen hundred and forty-three
I broke me shovel across me knee
And went to work for the company
On the Leeds to Selby railway

In eighteen hundred and forty-four
I landed on the Liverpool shore
Me belly was empty, me hands were raw
With working on the railway, the railway
I'm sick to my guts of the railway
Poor Paddy works on the railway

In eighteen hundred and forty-five
When Daniel O'Connell he was alive
When Daniel O'Connell he was alive
And working on the railway

In eighteen hundred and forty-six
I changed me trade to carrying bricks
Changed me trade to carrying bricks
Still working on the railway

In eighteen hundred and forty-seven
Poor Paddy was thinking of going to Heaven
The old bugger was thinking of going to Heaven
To work upon the railway, the railway
I'm sick to my death of the railway
Poor Paddy works on the railway
The last time I saw you was down at the Greeks
There was whiskey on Sunday and tears on our cheeks
You sang me a song as pure as the breeze
Blowing up the road to Glenaveigh
I sat for a while at the cross at Finnoe
Where young lovers would meet when the flowers were in bloom
Heard the men coming home from the fair at Shinrone
Their hearts in Tipperary wherever they go

Take my hand, and dry your tears babe
Take my hand, forget your fears babe
There's no pain, there's no more sorrow
They're all gone, gone in the years babe

I sat for a while by the gap in the wall
Found a rusty tin can and an old hurley ball
Heard the cards being dealt, and the rosary called
And a fiddle playing Sean Dun na nGall
And the next time I see you we'll be down at the Greeks
There'll be whiskey on Sunday and tears on our cheeks
For it's stupid to laugh and it's useless to bawl
About a rusty tin can and an old hurley ball

So I walked as day was dawning
Where small birds sang and leaves were falling
Where we once watched the row boats landing
By the broad majestic Shannon
Instrumental
I met my love by the gas works wall
Dreamed a dream by the old canal
Kissed a girl by the factory wall
Dirty old town
Dirty old town

Clouds a drifting across the moon
Cats a prowling on their beat
Spring's a girl in the street at night
Dirty old town
Dirty old town

Heard a siren from the docks
Saw a train set the night on fire
Smelled the spring on the smoky wind
Dirty old town
Dirty old town

I'm going to make me a good sharp axe
Shining steel tempered in the fire
Will chop you down like an old dead tree
Dirty old town
Dirty old town

I met my love by the gas works wall
Dreamed a dream by the old canal
Kissed a girl by the factory wall
Dirty old town
Dirty old town
Dirty old town
Dirty old town
It was 1962 and I was
two years out of school
When I got on board a boat
That was bound for Liverpool
The day we sailed away
I remember it so well
Took a look at the North Wall
And bid a fond farewell

It's a hard thing to leave the land
of your childhood
Touched by the rivers
And kissed by the sea
The places you played
with your childhood companions
To leave dear old Ireland and
Mother Mo Chroí

Though I am going far away
And I may never return here
There is one thing
that I'll keep within me
Deep in my heart a furious devotion
The love of old Ireland and Mother Mo Chroi

On the top of the Pentonville Road
I saw the sun setting
The town laid out before me
Looked beautiful to me
Away from all the sighing
The suffering and the dying
I dreamed of the future
The young and the free

But the years they go by quickly
Now I know I can't remain here
Where each day brings me closer
To that final misery
My kids will never scrape shit round here
And I won't die crying in a pint of beer
I'm going back to Ireland and Mother Mo Chroí
The cadillac stood by the house
And the yanks they were within
And the tinker boys they hissed advice
'Hot-wire her with a pin'
Then we turned and shook as we had a look
In the room where the dead men lay
So big Jim Dwyer made his last trip
To the home where his father's laid

But fifteen minutes later
We had our first taste of whiskey
There was uncles giving lectures
On ancient Irish history
The men all started telling jokes
And the women they got frisky
At five o'clock in the evening
Every bastard there was piskey

Fare thee well going away
There's nothing left to say
Farewell to New York City boys
To Boston and PA
He took them out
With a well-aimed clout
He was often heard to say
I'm a free born man of the USA

He fought the champ in Pittsburgh
And he slashed him to the ground
He took on Tiny Tartanella
And it only went one round
He never had no time for reds
For drink or dice or whores
And he never threw a fight
Unless the fight was right
So they sent him to the war

Fare the well gone away
There's nothing left to say
With a slainte Joe and Erin go
My love's in Amerikay
The calling of the rosary
Spanish wine from far away
I'm a free born man of the USA

This morning on the harbour
When I said goodbye to you
I remember how I swore
That I'd come back to you one day
And as the sunset came to meet
The evening on the hill
I told you I'd always love you
I always did and I always will

Fare thee well gone away
There's nothing left to say
'cept to say adieu
To your eyes as blue
As the water in the bay
And to big Jim Dwyer
The man of wire
Who was often heard to say
I'm a free born man of the USA
Instrumental
If you were around
we could go on the town
Instead of just goinmg
on the booze
If you'd stay in my life
We'd kick up the high life
Country Irish like we used to do

And we'd
drink
and we'd
dance
and we'd
dance
and we'd
drink
and we'd
drink
and we'd
dance
and we'd
dance
and we'd
drink

So at my command
you will take my hand
And we'll dance
the final dance

But it's more pricks
than kicks
That's what it is
I'm a scumbag,
a lout, thats the way
things are

If you name me a street
Then I'll name you a bar
And I'll walk right through Hell
just to buy you a jar
See the moon is once more rising
Above our our land of black and green
Hear the rebels voice is calling
"I shall not die, though you bury me!"
Hear the Aunt in bed a-dying
"Where is my Johnny?"
Faded pictures in the hallway
Which one of these brown ghosts is he?

Fare thee well my black haired diamond
Fare the well my own Aisling
Thoughts of and dreams of you will haunt me
'Till I come back home again

And the wind it blows
To the North and South
And blows to the East and West
I'll be just like that wind my love
For I will have no rest
'Til I return to thee

Bless the wind that shakes the barley
Curse the spade and curse the plough
Waking in the morning early
I wish to Hell I was with you now
One, two, three, four telephone poles
Give me a drink of poitin
Madness from the mountains crawling
When I first met you my own Aisling

Fare thee well my black haired diamond
Fare the well my own Aisling
Thoughts of and dreams of you will haunt me
'Till I come back home again

Fare thee well my black haired diamond
Fare the well my own Aisling
Thoughts of and dreams of you will haunt me
'Till I come back home again
One summer evening drunk to hell
I stood there nearly lifeless
An old man in the corner sang
Where the water lilies grow
And on the jukebox Johnny sang
About a thing called love
And it's how are you kid and what's your name
And how would you bloody know?
In blood and death 'neath a screaming sky
I lay down on the ground
And the arms and legs of other men
Were scattered all around
Some cursed, some prayed, some prayed then cursed
Then prayed and bled some more
And the only thing that I could see
Was a pair of brown eyes that was looking at me
But when we got back, labeled parts one to three
There was no pair of brown eyes waiting for me

And a rovin' a rovin' a rovin' I'll go
For a pair of brown eyes

I looked at him he looked at me
All I could do was hate him
While Ray and Philomena sang
Of my elusive dream
I saw the streams, the rolling hills
Where his brown eyes were waiting
And I thought about a pair of brown eyes
That waited once for me
So drunk to hell I left the place
Sometimes crawling sometimes walking
A hungry sound came across the breeze
So I gave the walls a talking
And I heard the sounds of long ago
From the old canal
And the birds were whistling in the trees
Where the wind was gently laughing

And a rovin' a rovin' a rovin' I'll go
For a pair of brown eyes
Last night as I slept
I dreamt I met with Behan
I shook him by the hand and we passed the time of day
When questioned on his views
On the crux of life's philosophies
He had but these few clear and simple words to say

I am going, I am going
Any which way the wind may be blowing
I am going, I am going
Where streams of whiskey are flowing

I have cursed, bled and sworn
Jumped bail and landed up in jail
Life has often tried to stretch me
But the rope always was slack
And now that I've a pile
I'll go down to the Chelsea
I'll walk in on my feet
But I'll leave there on my back

Oh the words that he spoke
Seemed the wisest of philosophies
There's nothing ever gained
By a wet thing called a tear
When the world is too dark
And I need the light inside of me
I'll go into a bar and drink
Fifteen pints of beer
As I wondered down the long lonesome highway
I meet other people on the way
The broken hearted lovers who’ve been left along the by-way
Living by night and hiding from the day
The people I meet as I go on my way
They all have a story to tell
How they once had a lover who left them on the by-way
To wonder this lonely hell

And if you know, don’t let me go
And if you know, don’t let me go
And if you know, don’t let me go
I love you so
I love you so

So as I carry on down the long lonesome highway
I meet other people on the way
More broken hearted lovers who’ve been left along the by-way
Living by night and hiding from the day

And if you know, don’t let me go
And if you know, don’t let me go
And if you know, don’t let me go
Cause I love you so
I love you so

I love you so....
In the great book of John - you're warned of the day
When you'll be laid - beneath the cold clay
The Angel of Death - will come from the sky
And claim your poor soul - when the time comes to die.


When The Angel of Death - comes down after you
Can you smile and say - that you have been true
Can you truthfully say - with your dying breath
That you're ready to meet - the Angel of death.

When the lights all grow dim - and the dark shadows creep
And then your loved ones - are gathered to weep
Can you face them and say - with your dying breath
That you're ready to meet - the Angel of Death.
McCormack and Richard Tauber are singing by the bed
There's a glass of punch below your feet and an angel at your head
There's devils on each side of you with bottles in their hands
You need one more drop of poison and you'll dream of foreign lands

When you pissed yourself in Frankfurt and got syph down in Cologne
And you heard the rattling death trains as you lay there all alone
Frank Ryan brought you whiskey in a brothel in Madrid
And you decked some fucking blackshirt who was curing all the Yids
At the sick bed of Cuchulainn we'll kneel and say a prayer
And the ghosts are rattling at the door and the devil's in the chair

And in the Euston Tavern you screamed it was your shout
But they wouldn't give you service so you kicked the windows out
They took you out into the street and kicked you in the brains
So you walked back in through a bolted door and did it all again
At the sick bed of Cuchulainn we'll kneel and say a prayer
And the ghosts are rattling at the door and the devil's in the chair

You remember that foul evening when you heard the banshees howl
There was lousy drunken bastards singing Billy is in the bowl
They took you up to midnight mass and left you in the lurch
So you dropped a button in the plate and spewed up in the church

Now you'll sing a song of liberty for blacks and paks and jocks
And they'll take you from this dump you're in and stick you in a box
Then they'll take you to Cloughprior and shove you in the ground
But you'll stick your head back out and shout "we'll have another round"
At the graveside of Cuchulainn we'll kneel around and pray
And God is in His heaven, and Billy's down by the bay
On the fourth of July eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from the sweet cove of Cork
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the grand city hall in New York
'Twas a wonderful craft, she was rigged fore-and-aft
And oh, how the wild winds drove her.
She'd got several blasts, she'd twenty-seven masts
And we called her the Irish Rover.

We had one million bales of the best Sligo rags
We had two million barrels of stones
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides,
We had four million barrels of bones.
We had five million hogs, we had six million dogs,
Seven million barrels of porter.
We had eight million bails of old nanny goats' tails,
In the hold of the Irish Rover.

There was awl Mickey Coote who played hard on his flute
When the ladies lined up for his set
He was tootin' with skill for each sparkling quadrille
Though the dancers were fluther'd and bet
With his sparse witty talk he was cock of the walk
As he rolled the dames under and over
They all knew at a glance when he took up his stance
And he sailed in the Irish Rover

There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee,
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Jimmy McGurk who was scarred stiff of work
And a man from Westmeath called Malone
There was Slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule
And fighting Bill Tracey from Dover
And your man Mick McCann from the banks of the Bann
Was the skipper of the Irish Rover

We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out
And the ship lost it's way in a fog.
And that whale of the crew was reduced down to two,
Just meself and the captain's old dog.
Then the ship struck a rock, oh Lord what a shock
The bulkhead was turned right over
Turned nine times around, and the poor dog was drowned
I'm the last of the Irish Rover
It was Christmas Eve babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me, won't see another one
And then he sang a song
The Rare Old Mountain Dew
And I turned my face away
And dreamed about you

Got on a lucky one
Came in eighteen to one
I've got a feeling
This year's for me and you
So happy Christmas
I love you baby
I can see a better time
When all our dreams come true

They've got cars
Big as bars
They've got rivers of gold
But the wind goes right through you
It's no place for the old

When you first took my hand
On a cold Christmas Eve
You promised me
Broadway was waiting for me

You were handsome
You were pretty
Queen of New York City
When the band finished playing
They howled out for more
Sinatra was swinging
All the drunks they were singing
We kissed on the corner
Then danced through the night

The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing 'Galway Bay'
And the bells were ringing
Out for Christmas day

You're a bum
You're a punk
You're an old slut on junk
Living there almost dead on a drip
In that bed

You scum bag
You maggot
You cheap lousy faggot
Happy Christmas your arse
I pray God
It's our last

I could have been someone
So could anyone
You took my dreams
From me when I first found you
I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Can't make it all alone
I've built my dreams around you