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letra de phaudrig crohoore, op. 62 - charles villiers stanford

oh! phaudrig crohoore was the broth of a boy
an’ he stood six foot eight;
an’ his arm was as round as another man’s thigh –
‘tis phaudrig was great

an’ his hair was as black as the shadows of night
an’ hung over the scars left by many a fight;
an’ his voice, like the thunder, was deep, strong, and loud
an’ his eye like the lightning from under the cloud

an’ all the girls liked him, for he could spake civil
an’ sweet when he liked it, for he was the divil
an’ there wasn’t a girl from thirty-five under
divil a matter how cross, but he could get round her

but of all the sweet girls that smiled on him but one
was the girl of his heart, an’ hе loved her alone;
for warm as thе sun, as the rock firm and sure
was the love of the heart of phaudrig crohoore
an’ he’d die for one smile from his kathleen o’brien
for his love, like his hatred, was strong as the lion

but michael o’hanlon loved kathleen as well
as he hated crohoore, an’ that same was like h-ll
but o’brien liked him, for they were the same parties
the o’hanlons, o’briens, and murphys and cartys;
an’ they all went together and hated crohoore
for it’s many’s the batin’ he gave them before
an’ o’hanlon made up to o’brien, an’ says he:
“i’ll marry your daughter if you’ll give her to me.”

an’ the match was made up, an’ when shrovetide came on
the company assembled, three hundred, if one;
there was all the o’hanlons, an’murphys, an’ cartys
an’ the young boys an’ girls of all of them parties

the o’briens, of course, gather’d strong on that day
an’ the pipers an’ fiddlers were tearin’ away;
there was roarin’, and’ jumpin’, and jiggin’, an’ flingin’
an’ jokin’, and blessin’, and kissin’, an’ singin’

an’ they wor all laughin’; why not, to be sure?
that o’hanlan came inside of phaudrig crohoore;
an’ they talk’d an’ they laugh’d the length of the table
atin’ an’ drinkin’ all while they were able;
an’ with pipin’ and fiddlin’ and roarin’ like thunder
your head you’d think fairly was splittin’ asunder

an’ the priest call’d out, “silence, ye blackguards, agin.”
an’ he took up his prayer-book just goin’ to begin
an’ they all held their tongues from their funnin’ an’ bawlin’
so silent you’d notice the smallest pin fallin’
and the priest was just beginnin’ to read, when the door
sprang back to the wall, an’ in walk’d crohoore

oh! phaudrig crohoore was a broth of a boy
an’ he stood six feet eight;
an’ his arm was as round as another man’s thigh
’tis phaudrig was great

an’ he walked slowly up, watch’d by many a bright eye
as a black cloud moves on thro’ the stars in the sky;
an’ none strove to stop him, for phaudrig was great
till he stood, all alone, opposite the sate
where o’hanlon and kathleen, his beautiful bride
were sittin’ so illigant out side by side

an’ he gave her one look that her heart almost broke
an’ he turn’d to o’brien, her father, and spoke;
an’ his voice, like the thunder, was deep, strong and loud
an’ his eye shone like lightning from under a cloud

“i did not come here like a tame, crawlin’ mouse
but i stand like a man, in my enemies’ house.”
in the field, on the road, phaudrig never knew fear
of his foemen, an’ god know, he scorns it here
“so laive me at aise, for three minutes or four
to speak to the girl i’ll never see more.”
and to kathleen he turn’d, an’ his voice changed its tone
for he thought of the days when he called her his own
an’ his eyes blazed like lightning from under the cloud
on his false-hearted girl, reproachful and proud

an’ says he: “kathleen bawn, is it true what i hear
that you marry of your free choice without threat or fear?
if so, spake the word, an’ i’ll turn an’ depart
cheated once, an’ once only, by woman’s false heart.”

oh! sorrow and love made the poor girl dumb
an’ she tried hard to spake, but the words wouldn’t come;
for the sound of his voice, as he stood there forninst her
went cold on her heart, as the night-wind in winter
an’ the tears in her blue eyes stood tremblin’ to flow
an’ pale was her cheek as the moonshine in snow

then the heart of bold phaudrig swell’d high in its place
for he knew by one look in that beautiful face
that, tho’ strangers and foemen their pledged hands might sever
her true heart was still his, an’ his only for ever

an’ he lifted his voice like the eagle’s ho-rs- call
an’ says phaudrig: “she’s mine still, in spite of you all.”
then up jumped o’hanlon, an’ a tall boy was he
an’ he look’d on bold phaudrig as fierce as could be;

an’ says he: “by the holy before you go out
bold phaudrig crohoore, you must fight for a bout.”
then phaudrig made answer, “i’ll do my endeavor!”
an’ with one blow he stretched bold o’hanlon for ever

in his arms he took kathleen, an’ stepped to the door
an’ he leap’d on his horse, an’ he flung her before
an’ they all were so bother’d that not a man stirred
till the galloping hoofs on the pavement were heard;

and up they all started, like bees in a swarm
an’ they riz a great shout, like the burst of a storm;
an’ they roar’d, an’ they ran, an’ they shouted galore;
but kathleen and phaudrig they never saw more

oh! phaudrig crohoore was a broth of a boy
an’ he stood six feet eight;
an’ his arm was as round as another man’s thigh
’tis phaudrig was great

but them days are gone by, an’ he is no more
an’ the green grass is growin’ o’er phaudrig crohoore:
for he could not be aisy or quiet at all;
as he lived a brave boy, he resolved so to fall

so he took a good pike for phaudrig was great
an’ he fought, an’ he died in the year ninety-eight;
an’ the day that crohoore in the green field was k!lled
a strong boy was stretch’d, an’ a strong heart was still’d

- charles villiers stanford

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