Clive Davies Folk Songs
The Blarney Man by Clive Davies
1) the cutest town in Ireland where the blarney shows its face, ticks over at a slower pace to all who call for ale
Now Seamus there is often dubbed as not the brightest in the pub - but begorrah and bedad the lad could really tell a tale
Licking mental pencil lead, he'd tink a message to hisself, then leaning on the mantelshelf he'd start to whet his wiles
Grinning and a-glaring – sure he's away with the fair-ies, plus a couple of hail mary's - tossed into the sky!
Chorus: tiddlywinks we're odds and sods in the kingdom of the gods
Rollicking, frollicking, bollicking fun at the blarney bar today
2) is it fact or is it fiction that the teller of the tales has a blarney stone addiction which the kissing never fails
He tells of such adventures - all the dreamers are exhilarated, activated, animated - pickled tink - and stimulated
Seamus held them spellbound with his holy grail of tales and the pub entered the guiness book of records for their sales
He'd trot the plots and storylines, he'd lift his snout and shout, as the people fell about - and laughed their tonsils inside out!
Chorus: tiddlywinks we're odds and sods in the kingdom of the gods
Rollicking, frollicking, bollicking fun at the blarney bar today
3) underneath their paddy caps - smokey teeth like dominoes, wrinkled noses, ears delighted, blinking eyes in smiling faces,
Chewing piggies trotters, baked praties and pistachios , shebeen kissers white painted with guiness stout moustachios!
Chorus: tiddlywinks we're odds and sods in the kingdom of the gods
Rollicking, frollicking, bollicking fun at the blarney bar today
4) sure are these flights of fancy where his fertile tinking sails, irish misty - pass the whiskey - is the fella telling tales..?
Is it phoney - or only baloney - neat and sweet but never sour, word spinning and word weaving -
At ten tousand words an hour!
Chorus: tiddlywinks we're odds and sods in the kingdom of the gods
Rollicking, frollicking, bollicking fun at the blarney bar today
5) why not find out for yerself, if you've a day to find yerself, here and now, turn left - (no right..?) - ah, go other way!
Follow the fella, priest and tinker, not forgettin' the guiness drinker, you're in for a treat -
So follow your feet to the blarney bar today..!
Chorus: tiddlywinks we're odds and sods in the kingdom of the gods
Rollicking, frollicking, bollicking fun at the blarney bar today
Repeat chorus to finish
Now Seamus there is often dubbed as not the brightest in the pub - but begorrah and bedad the lad could really tell a tale
Licking mental pencil lead, he'd tink a message to hisself, then leaning on the mantelshelf he'd start to whet his wiles
Grinning and a-glaring – sure he's away with the fair-ies, plus a couple of hail mary's - tossed into the sky!
Chorus: tiddlywinks we're odds and sods in the kingdom of the gods
Rollicking, frollicking, bollicking fun at the blarney bar today
2) is it fact or is it fiction that the teller of the tales has a blarney stone addiction which the kissing never fails
He tells of such adventures - all the dreamers are exhilarated, activated, animated - pickled tink - and stimulated
Seamus held them spellbound with his holy grail of tales and the pub entered the guiness book of records for their sales
He'd trot the plots and storylines, he'd lift his snout and shout, as the people fell about - and laughed their tonsils inside out!
Chorus: tiddlywinks we're odds and sods in the kingdom of the gods
Rollicking, frollicking, bollicking fun at the blarney bar today
3) underneath their paddy caps - smokey teeth like dominoes, wrinkled noses, ears delighted, blinking eyes in smiling faces,
Chewing piggies trotters, baked praties and pistachios , shebeen kissers white painted with guiness stout moustachios!
Chorus: tiddlywinks we're odds and sods in the kingdom of the gods
Rollicking, frollicking, bollicking fun at the blarney bar today
4) sure are these flights of fancy where his fertile tinking sails, irish misty - pass the whiskey - is the fella telling tales..?
Is it phoney - or only baloney - neat and sweet but never sour, word spinning and word weaving -
At ten tousand words an hour!
Chorus: tiddlywinks we're odds and sods in the kingdom of the gods
Rollicking, frollicking, bollicking fun at the blarney bar today
5) why not find out for yerself, if you've a day to find yerself, here and now, turn left - (no right..?) - ah, go other way!
Follow the fella, priest and tinker, not forgettin' the guiness drinker, you're in for a treat -
So follow your feet to the blarney bar today..!
Chorus: tiddlywinks we're odds and sods in the kingdom of the gods
Rollicking, frollicking, bollicking fun at the blarney bar today
Repeat chorus to finish
The Road to Fallow Dunn by Clive Davies
(The Leprechaun Song)
I walked out, wearing my best smile, and in a while I found a new song
I sang and hummed it, mile after milepost, down a short road that became long
Cows and sheep laugh at me, as I leap fences in my stride
In my mind a nice cup of tea - with a sandwich on the side
Caught between a cloud and a shower, I find a tree to dry my day
Face looks like a cauliflower, I'm a wet fella who's on his way
'Is this the way?' I ask a running river, just for fun a signpost turns its head
'Is this the way?' Another sign says, 'read me - I know the way to Fallow Dunn!
- Follow the brook that winds forever, over the heather and under the sun,
Count the miles and add them together, you'll see the road to Fallow Dunn!'
Singing my song with birds of a feather, over green hills when day is done
Deep in the land of never never, I'm on the road to Fallow Dunn!
(The Leprechaun Song)
I walked out, wearing my best smile, and in a while I found a new song
I sang and hummed it, mile after milepost, down a short road that became long
Cows and sheep laugh at me, as I leap fences in my stride
In my mind a nice cup of tea - with a sandwich on the side
Caught between a cloud and a shower, I find a tree to dry my day
Face looks like a cauliflower, I'm a wet fella who's on his way
'Is this the way?' I ask a running river, just for fun a signpost turns its head
'Is this the way?' Another sign says, 'read me - I know the way to Fallow Dunn!
- Follow the brook that winds forever, over the heather and under the sun,
Count the miles and add them together, you'll see the road to Fallow Dunn!'
Singing my song with birds of a feather, over green hills when day is done
Deep in the land of never never, I'm on the road to Fallow Dunn!
Koos the Tap Dancer by Clive Davies
Born bred (and buttered) in UK, I knew quite a few Irish characters - and met even more during the Guinness Folk Festival over in beautiful Tralee, on the West coast of Ireland.
It was such fun for me to create the guy for this song – forming a larger than life mixture of IRISH and SOUTH AFRICAN characteristics...! ( I lived in SOUTH AFRICA for thirty five years, and encountered many versions of 'Koos' - an Afrikaaner, usually a huge man - with so many fascinating stories to tell...)
Chorus: He had Hands like Feet - though his feet were even bigger - he was Upholstered in Muscle, like a Bear
With Arms like Legs, and legs like Tree Trunks - a Gorilla of a man - but oh-so Debonair
Each Sunday night he'd be at Percy's Pancake Place, employed to entertain the many people dining there
1) A colourful backwoodsman, part Country Bumpkin - Bundu Bashing Bushman
Hungry crowds just loved him - on stage his Dancing Rage was awesome
He Flexed, and Growled (and frightened them!) - He was such a sight to see
His Soup-Plate Hands beat time - as his Bootsteps followed - One, Two, Three
2) He was a dancing Leviathon, part Caveman - part Super-DooperMan!
A Windmill of a Dancer - Prancing Lightly - like a Whale...!
Slightly hairy (like Medusa!) - oversized - with Oak-Sized Limbs
Wearing bulky Knitware - he was a Character from Grimms
Peoples Jaws Dropped and Gaped, eyes wide open they stared
A little scared - unprepared for this Dancing Mountain Bear
Chorus:
3) Koos raised his bushy eyebrows at the pancake eaters' grins
They thrilled when he began to speak - of Leprechauns and lekker things
For to be sure, he'd got the Blarney - from his dainty Irish Mother - No bother ......
His father was a Boer Okie into the Mountain Dew...
He Grazed on Leguvaans - Monkey Gland Steak and - would you believe it - Irish stew
Guitar Solo.....
4) So people came for Percy's pancakes - hundreds of them, every single night
To scope this Ballet Dancing Demon - Ag man - what a sight!
As Koos pulled his Veld skoenes on, they watched him - first one then the other shoe
And then Koos entertained them all - as no other Dancer could ever do...
Chorus:
5) As Irish as the day is never ever long, he Tapped, and Tripped the Light Fantastic
Turning Takkies to and fro - He was Incredibly Gymnastic...
And so Graceful with his Prancing, Dancing Art,
Square Dancing, Round Dancing, Slam Dancing - Sakkie-Sakkie too!
People unselfishly Cherished - they Relished this grand guy who loved to entertain them from the stage
His Wild and Whacky stories, even started a new storytelling craze...
He was the talk of the Gawkers and Pancake walkers, and pretty soon Pancake Percy too...
They began Frisbee-ing their pancakes - all over the place, Pancake patrons - pancooks and pancake crew –
Chorus: - Scat singing to fade out....
Born bred (and buttered) in UK, I knew quite a few Irish characters - and met even more during the Guinness Folk Festival over in beautiful Tralee, on the West coast of Ireland.
It was such fun for me to create the guy for this song – forming a larger than life mixture of IRISH and SOUTH AFRICAN characteristics...! ( I lived in SOUTH AFRICA for thirty five years, and encountered many versions of 'Koos' - an Afrikaaner, usually a huge man - with so many fascinating stories to tell...)
Chorus: He had Hands like Feet - though his feet were even bigger - he was Upholstered in Muscle, like a Bear
With Arms like Legs, and legs like Tree Trunks - a Gorilla of a man - but oh-so Debonair
Each Sunday night he'd be at Percy's Pancake Place, employed to entertain the many people dining there
1) A colourful backwoodsman, part Country Bumpkin - Bundu Bashing Bushman
Hungry crowds just loved him - on stage his Dancing Rage was awesome
He Flexed, and Growled (and frightened them!) - He was such a sight to see
His Soup-Plate Hands beat time - as his Bootsteps followed - One, Two, Three
2) He was a dancing Leviathon, part Caveman - part Super-DooperMan!
A Windmill of a Dancer - Prancing Lightly - like a Whale...!
Slightly hairy (like Medusa!) - oversized - with Oak-Sized Limbs
Wearing bulky Knitware - he was a Character from Grimms
Peoples Jaws Dropped and Gaped, eyes wide open they stared
A little scared - unprepared for this Dancing Mountain Bear
Chorus:
3) Koos raised his bushy eyebrows at the pancake eaters' grins
They thrilled when he began to speak - of Leprechauns and lekker things
For to be sure, he'd got the Blarney - from his dainty Irish Mother - No bother ......
His father was a Boer Okie into the Mountain Dew...
He Grazed on Leguvaans - Monkey Gland Steak and - would you believe it - Irish stew
Guitar Solo.....
4) So people came for Percy's pancakes - hundreds of them, every single night
To scope this Ballet Dancing Demon - Ag man - what a sight!
As Koos pulled his Veld skoenes on, they watched him - first one then the other shoe
And then Koos entertained them all - as no other Dancer could ever do...
Chorus:
5) As Irish as the day is never ever long, he Tapped, and Tripped the Light Fantastic
Turning Takkies to and fro - He was Incredibly Gymnastic...
And so Graceful with his Prancing, Dancing Art,
Square Dancing, Round Dancing, Slam Dancing - Sakkie-Sakkie too!
People unselfishly Cherished - they Relished this grand guy who loved to entertain them from the stage
His Wild and Whacky stories, even started a new storytelling craze...
He was the talk of the Gawkers and Pancake walkers, and pretty soon Pancake Percy too...
They began Frisbee-ing their pancakes - all over the place, Pancake patrons - pancooks and pancake crew –
Chorus: - Scat singing to fade out....
THE GOLD RUSH PROSPECTOR
(Author unknown )
In the year '58 when me troubles was great, I met a young fella named Higgins
And by him I was told, sure if you want to find gold, yer must tramp yer way up to the diggins
So I bade him good day as I went on me way, me heart half as light as a feather
And I whistled and sang and the gum trees they rang, and I gave not a hang for the weather...
Well I walked all the day 'til I got such a way that I couldn't stand up without sittin'
And the weight of me pack put such a kink in me back that I felt me ould spine would be splittin'
Then a red shirt I spied with a fella inside and I told him me story or cried it
When I spoke about gold - sure he made me turn cold - he said, Paddy, yer sittin' beside it!
See that big yeller clump there bedside the black stump - If yer want to find gold , I'd advise youse,
Stick yer shovel in dat, and I'll be a cut cat, if what you won't find don't surprise youse
So I bade him good day - surely this is child's play, for that hump, Boy, I felt I could hug it!
And I dug in me shovel - fit to work like the Divil, feeling certain I'd find a big nugget!
Then I let out a yell - for I tought I'm in Hell - and down from that hillock I flung me!
For dem big soldier ants they was climbin' me pants - and like ten tousand Daemons they stung me!
They was roamin' about, picking little bits out - just like goats that was turned into clover
And I cursed that red shirt as I rolled in the dirt, yes I cursed the man over and over
I remember one day when I heard the priest say how gold is the root of all evil
Well, 'tis true what he told - for I went to find gold - and I dug up the roots of the Divil!
(Author unknown )
In the year '58 when me troubles was great, I met a young fella named Higgins
And by him I was told, sure if you want to find gold, yer must tramp yer way up to the diggins
So I bade him good day as I went on me way, me heart half as light as a feather
And I whistled and sang and the gum trees they rang, and I gave not a hang for the weather...
Well I walked all the day 'til I got such a way that I couldn't stand up without sittin'
And the weight of me pack put such a kink in me back that I felt me ould spine would be splittin'
Then a red shirt I spied with a fella inside and I told him me story or cried it
When I spoke about gold - sure he made me turn cold - he said, Paddy, yer sittin' beside it!
See that big yeller clump there bedside the black stump - If yer want to find gold , I'd advise youse,
Stick yer shovel in dat, and I'll be a cut cat, if what you won't find don't surprise youse
So I bade him good day - surely this is child's play, for that hump, Boy, I felt I could hug it!
And I dug in me shovel - fit to work like the Divil, feeling certain I'd find a big nugget!
Then I let out a yell - for I tought I'm in Hell - and down from that hillock I flung me!
For dem big soldier ants they was climbin' me pants - and like ten tousand Daemons they stung me!
They was roamin' about, picking little bits out - just like goats that was turned into clover
And I cursed that red shirt as I rolled in the dirt, yes I cursed the man over and over
I remember one day when I heard the priest say how gold is the root of all evil
Well, 'tis true what he told - for I went to find gold - and I dug up the roots of the Divil!
