But Not For Me (Gershwin) They’re writing songs of love, but not for me. A lucky star’s above, but not for me. With love to lead the way I’ve found more Clouds of grey Than any Russian play could guarantee. I was a fool to fall and get that way. Heigh-ho! Alas! And also, lack-a-day! Although I can’t dismiss the mem’ry of his kiss, I guess he’s not for me. He’s knocking on a door, but not for me. He’ll build a two by four, but not for me. I know that loves a game; I’m puzzled, just the same. Was I the moth or fl ame? I’m all at sea. It all began so well, but what an end! This is the time a woman needs a friend. When ev’ry happy plot ends with a marriage knot, But there’s no knot for me. In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning (Mann/Hilliard) In the wee small hours of the morning While the whole wide world is fast asleep You lie awake and think about the boy And never, ever think of counting sheep When your lonely heart has learned it’s lesson You’d be his, if only he would call. In the wee small hours of the morning That’s the time you miss him most of all He’s my Guy (Raye/Paul) He’s my guy, I don’t care what he does ‘Cause he’s my guy. I guess he always was He’s careless about me, I don’t think he tries But once in a while, he’ll hug me and smile And I can see me in his eyes Oh he’s my guy, I know he’ll always be And I will try to keep him lovin’ me However he wants me, I’m his until I die ’Cos nobody knows better than I That he’s my guy Detour Ahead (Carter/Frigo) Smooth Road, Clear Day Oh why am I the only one travelling this way? How strange the road to love should be so easy Can there be a detour ahead? Wake up. Slow down Before you crash and break your heart Gullible clown You fool you’re headed in the wrong direction Can there be a detour ahead? The farther you travel, the harder to unravel the web He spins around you Turn back while there’s time Can’t you see the danger sign? Soft shoulders surround you Smooth Road, clear night Oh lucky me that suddenly I saw the light I’m turnin’ back away from all this trouble Smooth road, smooth road, no Detour ahead Dindi (A. C. Jobim) Sky, so vast is the sky, with far away clouds just wandering by, Where do they go? Oh I don’t know, don’t know Wind that speaks to the trees, telling stories that no one believes, Stories of love belong to you and me. Oh, Dindi, if I only had words I would say all the beautiful Things that I see when you’re with me, oh my Dindi. Oh Dindi, like the song of the wind in the trees, that’s how my heart is Singing Dindi, happy Dindi, when you’re with me. I love you more each day, yes I do, yes I do I’d let you go away, if you take me with you. Don’t you know Dindi, I’d be running and searching for you Like a river that can’t fi nd the sea That would be me, without you, my Dindi An Leanbh Sídhe (Traditional) Tháinig bean go dubh’ cois leasa, le heirí an lae ag gol ’s ag caoi. Seo mar a duirt sí ag bualadh bosa, sí ag glaoch go hard ar rí na sídhe, Cad fár mheall tu leat mo leanbh? Chuir faoi dhraiocht é le cealg suirí Táimse anois sa tsaol gan taitneamh. Cad fár fhuaidis, searc mo chroí? Ins na sléibhte, trís na gleannta, mar a mbíodh mo leanbh ag sugradh tráth, Le bláth ’gus minscoth ag fás ina theannta, ansúd im’ fhánaí, táim gach lá. Im fhánaí tnáite le chroí chráite, i ndiaidh mo linbh an fhoilt bhuí, Ag glaoch go hard ar mhacaibh alla, go saorfhaidís mo bháibín sídhe. Och monuair, ní tugtar aire, ar mo chaoi ná ar mo ghearán Leis on slua ag scléip ’s ag gáire, sea beidh feasta mo leannán Slán go deo leat anois im’ aonar, mar táim id’ dhiaidh gan aon tsolás Ach beimid fós araon go séanmhar, i bhFlaitheas Dé le cúnamh grást’ Woman be Wise (Bonnie Raitt) Woman be wise, keep your mouth shut Don’t advertise your man Don’t sit around girl, gossipin’ Explainin’ what your good man can do Because there’s women out there Oh Lord they ain’t no use They’ll laugh in your face and try to steal your man from you Better be wise, keep your mouth shut Don’t advertise your man My best girlfriend, she might be a high brow Change clothes three times every day What do you think she’s doing now While you’re so far away? Well she’s lovin’ your man, in your own damned bed. Call the doctor mama, investigate your head Better be wise, keep your mouth shut Don’t advertise your man Woman be wise, keep your mouth shut Don’t advertise your man Don’t sit around girl, tellin’ all your secrets Explainin’ what your good man can do to you ’Cos if you talk about your baby You tell me he’s so fi ne I just wanna sneak up and try to make him mine Better be wise, keep your mouth shut Don’t advertise your man Woman be wise, keep your mouth shut Don’t advertise your man, (don’t be no fool girl) Don’t advertise your man Amhrán na Leabhar (Traditional Air, words by Tomás Rua Ó Suilleabháin) Go Cuan Bhéil Inse casadh mé cois Góilín aoibhinn Dairbhre, Mar a seoltar fl ít na farraige thar sáile i gcéin. I bPortmagee do stadas seal, fé thuairim intinn maitheasa, D’fhonn bheith sealad eatarthu mar mháistir léinn. Is gearr gur chuala an eachtra ag cách, mo lean! Gur i mBord Eoinín do chailleadh theas an t-árthach tréan, Do phreab mo chroí le h-atuirse ’dtaobh loinge an Tígheasaigh chalma, Is go mb’fhearrde an tír í ’sheasamh seal do ráib an tséin. Mo chiach, mo chumha is m’atuirse! Mé im iarsma dubh’ ag aindeise ’S mé síoraí ’déanamh mairbhne ar mo chás bhocht féin! Mo chuid éadaigh chumhdaigh scaipthe, do bhí déanta cumtha, ceapaithe, Is do thriaill thar thriuchaibh Banban mar bhláth Fém’ dhéin. Iad ’bheith imithe sa bhfharraige ar bharr an scéil, Is a thuilleadh acu san lasair ’s mé go támhadh trém’ néal, Ba thrua le cách ar maidin mé, go buartha, Cásmhar, ceasnaithe, Is an fuacht do chráidh im bhallaibh mé gan snáth ón Spéir! Dá shiúlfainn Éire is Alba, an Fhrainc, an Spáinn is Sasana, Agus fós arís dá n-abrainn gach aird faoin ré, Ní bhfaighinnse an iomad leabhartha b’fhearr eolas Agus tairbhe, Ná is mó bhí chun mo mhaitheasa cé táid ar strae. Mo chreach! mo chumha in easnamh súd do fágadh mé! Is mór an cúrsa mairbhne agus cás liom é. Mallacht Dé is na hEaglaise ar an gcarraig Ghránda mhal laithe, Do bháigh an long gan anfadh, gan ghála, gan ghaoth. The Boys of Barr na Sráide (Traditional air, words by Sigerson Clifford) Oh the town it climbs the mountain and looks upon the sea In sleeping time or waking, it’s there I long to be To walk again those kindly streets, where fi rst my life began With the boys of Barr na Sráide who hunted for the wren. With cudgels stout we roamed about to hunt the gay Dreolín We searched for birds in every furze, from Litir to Dooneen We jumped for joy beneath the sky, life held no print nor plan For the boys from Barr na Sráide who hunted for the wren. And when the hills were bleeding and the rifl es were afl ame To the rebel homes of Kerry the Saxon strangers came But the men who dared the Auxies and who fought the Black And Tans Were the boys from Barr na Sráide who hunted for the wren. But now they toil on foreign soil, where they have Gone their Way Deep in the heart of London town or over in Broadway And I am left to sing their deeds and to praise them while I can Those boys of Barr na Sráide who hunted for the wren. And here’s a health to them tonight, those lads who Laughed with me By the groves of Carhan river or the slopes of Beenatee John Daly and Batt Andy, the Sheehans, Con and Dan, Were the boys of Barr na Sráide who hunted for the wren. And when the wheel of life runs down and peace Comes over me Oh lay me down in that old town, between the hills and sea I’ll take my sleep near those green fi elds, where fi rst My life began With the boys of Barr na Sráide who hunted for the wren