Like a bird on the wire
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free
Like a worm on a hook
Like a knight from some old fashioned book
I have saved all my ribbons for thee
If I, if I have been unkind
I hope that you can just let it go by
If I, if I have been untrue
I hope you know it was never to you
Like a baby, stillborn
Like a beast with his horn
I have torn everyone who reached out for me
But I swear by this song
And by all that I have done wrong
I will make it all up to thee
I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch
He said to me, you must not ask for so much
And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door
She cried to me, hey, why not ask for more
Oh like a bird on the wire
Like a drunk in a midnight choir
I have tried in my way to be free
———-
Walkin Street［ウォーキン・ストリート］： アイルランド、キルケニーにある通り
mo mhuirnin［マヴォーニン］： moが「私の」、muirninが「ダーリン」、つまり「私のダーリン」
shillelagh law［シレーリー・ロー］： shillelaghは杖でけんかの時には武器になったらしい、shillelagh lawとはおそらくけんかの時のルールと思われる
d’anam don diabhal［ダナムダンジョール］： d’anam (< do (your) + anam (soul)) で、「あなたの魂」、don (< do (to, for) + an (the)) diabhal で、「悪魔に」、あわせて「あなたの魂を悪魔に」の意、だろうか
Ah Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin Street
A gentleman Irish mighty odd
Well, he had a brogue both rich and sweet
An’ to rise in the world he carried a hod
Ah but Tim had a sort of tippling away
With the love of the liquor he was born
And to send him on his way each day
He’d a drop of the craythur every morn
Whack fol the dah, will you dance to your partner
Around the floor your trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake
One morning Tim was rather full
His head felt heavy which made him shake
He fell off the ladder and he broke his skull
And they carried him home his corpse to wake
Well they rolled him up in a nice clean sheet
And they laid him out upon the bed
With a bottle of whiskey at his feet
And a barrel of porter at his head
Whack fol the dah, will you dance to your partner
Around the floor your trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake
Well his friends assembled at the wake
And Mrs Finnegan called for lunch
Well first she brought in tay and cake
Then pipes, tobacco and brandy punch
Then the widow Malone began to cry
Such a lovely corpse, did you ever see
Arrah, Tim mo mhuirnin, why did you die
Will you hold your gob, said Molly McGee
Whack fol the dah, will you dance to your partner
Around the floor your trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake
Well Mary O’Connor took up the job
Biddy, says she, you’re wrong, I’m sure
Well Biddy gave her a belt in the gob
And left her sprawling on the floor
Well civil war did then engage
‘Twas woman to woman and man to man
Shillelagh law was all the rage
And a row and a ruction soon began
Whack fol the dah, will you dance to your partner
Around the floor your trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake
Well Tim Maloney raised his head
When a bottle of whiskey flew at him
He ducked, and landing on the bed
The whiskey scattered over Tim
Bedad he revives, see how he rises
Tim Finnegan rising in the bed
Saying, whittle your whiskey around like blazes
D’anam don diabhal, do you think I’m dead
Whack fol the dah, will you dance to your partner
Around the floor your trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake
———-
Beardsley ［ビアズリー］： イングランドのイラストレーター
Celtic ［セルティック］： スコットランドのグラスゴーにあるサッカークラブ
United ［ユナイティッド］： マンチェスター・ユナイティッド（イングランドのサッカークラブ）
I didn’t know what day it was
When you walked into the room
I said hello unnoticed
You said goodbye too soon
Breezing through the clientele
Spinning yarns that were so lyrical
I really must confess right here
The attraction was purely physical
I took all those habits of yours
That in the beginning were hard to accept
Your fashion sense, Beardsley prints
I put down to experience
The big bosomed lady with the Dutch accent
Who tried to change my point of view
Her ad lib lines were well rehearsed
But my heart cried out for you
You’re in my heart, you’re in my soul
You’ll be my breath should I grow old
You are my lover, you’re my best friend
You’re in my soul
My love for you is immeasurable
My respect for you immense
You’re ageless, timeless, lace and fineness
You’re beauty and elegance
You’re a rhapsody, a comedy
You’re a symphony and a play
You’re every love song ever written
But honey what do you see in me
You’re an essay in glamour please pardon the grammar
But you’re every schoolboy’s dream
You’re Celtic, United, but baby I’ve decided
You’re the best team I’ve ever seen
And there have been many affairs
Many times I’ve thought to leave
But I bite my lip and turn around
‘Cause you’re the warmest thing I’ve ever found
You’re in my heart, you’re in my soul
You’ll be my breath should I grow old
You are my lover, you’re my best friend
You’re in my soul
You’re in my heart, you’re in my soul
You’ll be my breath should I grow old
You are my lover, you’re my best friend
You’re in my soul
There once was a very, very holy vicar
Was walking along the street one day
When he heard a little voice say, excuse me, vicar
Oh, help me, vicar, the voice did say
And the vicar looked about, but all he could see
Was a tiny little frog sitting on the ground
My dear little froggy, did you speak to me
Was it you who spoke when I heard that sound
Oh yes, said the frog, oh help me, vicar
As I am not a frog, you see
I’m a choir-boy really, but a very wicked fairy
Cast a nasty spell on me
The only way that I can be saved
From this wicked spell, the little frog said
Is for someone to take me and put me in a place
Where a very holy man has laid his head
So the vicar took him home, put him on his pillow
There he laid till the break of day
The very next morning, a blessed miracle
The spell was lifted, I’m glad to say
For there was the choir-boy in bed with the vicar
And I hope you think this all makes sense
‘Cause there my lords and members of the jury
Rests the case for the defense
She tells him she thinks she needs to be free
He tells her he doesn’t understand
She takes his hand
She tells him nothing’s working out the way they planned
She’s so many women
He can’t find the one who was his friend
So he’s hanging on to half her heart
He can’t have the restless part
So he tells her to hasten down the wind
He agrees he thinks she needs to be free
Then she says she’d rather be with him
But it’s just a whim
By which she hopes to keep him on the limb
She’s so many women
He can’t find the one who was his friend
So he’s hanging on to half her heart
He can’t have the restless part
So he tells her to hasten down the wind
A comical genius was thinking one day
How he’d jack up a job and receive handy pay
He did not like beggin’ and work was too hard
So he got a bright notion to join up the guard
Diddlee I dum diddlee I dum diddlee I dum dum day
Well he went up to Dublin to the depot went in
Got a new suit of blue as bright as new pins
They drilled him they drilled him they drilled him so hard
The old sergeant proclaimed him a fully fledge guard
Diddlee I dum diddlee I dum diddlee I dum dum day
He was stationed somewhere near the town of Athy
Rounds the roads of that district he kept a close eye
Well the girls they admired him as all brazers do
Fall in love with the guard and his new suit of blue
Diddlee I dum diddlee I dum diddlee I dum dum day
Well they’d laugh and they’d wink and they’d nod as he’d pass
Oh but this civee guard has his eye on one lass
But this little colleen she being a die hard
Soon made it quite clear that she wanted no guard
Diddlee I dum diddlee I dum diddlee I dum dum day
One time while on duty on a dark winter’s night
He caught her out cycling without any light
Where’s your light miss, said he, for an answer says she
It’s next to me liver, where you’ll never be
How hard is my fortune, how vain my repining
The strong rope of fate for my young neck is twining
My strength is departed, my cheeks sunk and sallow
While I languish in chains in the jail of Cluan Meala
No boy in the village was ever yet milder
I could play with a child and my sport be no wilder
I could dance without tiring from morning till evening
And my goal ball I’d strike to the lighting of heaven
At my bed foot decaying my hurley is lying
Through the lads of the village my goal ball is flying
My horse ‘mong the neighbors neglected may fallow
While this heart young and gay lies cold in Cluan Meala
Next Sunday the pattern at home will be keeping
All the lads of the village the fields will be sweeping
And the dance of fair maidens the evening will hallow
While this heart young and gay lies cold in Cluan Meala
Ah well, who wouldn’t be a sailor lad a-sailing on the main
To gain the goodwill of his captain’s good name
He came ashore one evening for to be
And that was the beginning of my own true love and me
And it’s home boys home
Home I’d like to be, home for a while in me own country
Where the oak and the ash and the bonny rowan tree
Are all a-growin’ green in the north country
Well I asked her for a candle for to light me way to bed
And likewise for a handkerchief to tie around me head
She tended to me needs like a young maid ought to do
So then I says to her, now won’t you jump in with me too
And it’s home boys home
Home I’d like to be, home for a while in me own country
Where the oak and the ash and the bonny rowan tree
Are all a-growin’ green in the north country
Well she jumped into bed, making no alarm
Thinking a young sailor lad could do to her no harm
Well I hugged her and I kissed her the whole night long
’Til she wished the short night had been seven years long
And it’s home boys home
Home I’d like to be, home for a while in me own country
Where the oak and the ash and the bonny rowan tree
Are all a-growin’ green in the north country
Early next morning the sailor lad arose
And into Mary’s apron threw a handful of gold
Saying, take this me dear for the mischief that I’ve done
For tonight I fear I’ve left you with a daughter or a son
And it’s home boys home
Home I’d like to be, home for a while in me own country
Where the oak and the ash and the bonny rowan tree
Are all a-growin’ green in the north country
Well, if it be a girl child, send her out to nurse
With gold in her pocket and with silver in her purse
And if it be a boy child he’ll wear the jacket blue
And go climbing up the rigging like his daddy used to do
And it’s home boys home
Home I’d like to be, home for a while in me own country
Where the oak and the ash and the bonny rowan tree
Are all a-growin’ green in the north country
Oh come all of you fair maidens, a warning take by me
And never let a sailor lad an inch above your knee
For I trusted one and he beguiled me
He left me with a pair of twins to dangle on me knee
And it’s home boys home
Home I’d like to be, home for a while in me own country
Where the oak and the ash and the bonny rowan tree
Are all a-growin’ green in the north country