Shule Agra- Irish variants
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Shule Agra
Irish Songs and Ballads
By Alfred Perceval Graves
My version of this ballad is founded upon the two following editions of it, which are printed side by side for comparison with each other and with my own. The first of them was obtained by me from the Library of the Royal Irish Academy; the second is copied from a broadsheet picked up by my friend Dr. Joyce:—
SHUILE AGRA.
As I roved through my new garden bowers,
To gaze upon fast fading flowers.
And think upon the happiest hours
That fled in Summers bloom.
Simile, shuile, shuilc agra,
Time can only ease my woe;
Since the lad of my heart from me did go,
Gotheen mavourneen slaun.
Tis often I sat on my true love's knee,
And many a fond story he told me;
He told me things that ne'er would be,
Gotheen mavourneen slaun.
Shuile, shuile, &c.
I'll sell my rock. Ill sell my reel,
When flax is spun I'll sell my wheel,
To buy my love a sword and shield,
Gotheen mavourneen slaun.
Shuile, shuile, &c.
I'll dye my petticoat. I'll dye it red,
And round the world I'll beg my bread.
That all my friends would wish me dead,
Gotheen mavourneen slaun.
Shuile, shuile, &c.
I wish I was on Brandon Hill,
Tis there I'll sit and cry my fill.
That every tear would turn a mill,
Gotheen mavourneen slaun.
Shuile, shuile, &c.
No more am I that blooming maid,
That used to rove the valley shade,
My youth and bloom are all decayed,
Gotheen mavourneen slaun.
Shuile, simile. &c.
SHULE AGRAH.
Oft I roved my garden bowers,
To gaze upon fast fading flowers,
And think upon past happy hours
That's fled like summer's bloom. Shule, Shule, Shule arrah,
Time can never end my woe,
Since the lad of my heart did go,
Gudhe tough, gudhc tough, slaun.
No more am I that blooming maid, That used to rove the valley's shade; My youth, my bloom, are both decayed, And every charm is gone.
Shule, Shule, Shule, &c.
For now he's gone to other climes,
To seek one more pleasing to his mind;
But ah, the maid he left behind
Shall love him best of all.
Shule, Shule, Shule, &r.
His eyes were black, his coat was blue,
His hair was fair, his heart was true;
I wish in my heart I was with you,
Gudhe tough, eudhe touch, slaun.
Shufe, Shule, Shule, &c.
The time can only ease my woe.
Since the lad of my heart from me did go.
Uska dhe, uska dhe, mavourneen
slaun.
I'll sell my rack, I'll sell my reel,
When my flax is out I'll sell my wheel,
To buy my love a sword and shield.
Gudhe tough, gudhe tough, &c.
I wish I was in yonder hill,
It's there I'd sit and cry my fill,
That every tear would turn a mill.
Gudhe tough, gudhe tough, slaun.
Shule, Shule, Shule, &c.
Oft I've sat on my love's knee,
Many a fond story he told to me;
He said many things that ne'er will be.
Gudhe tough, gudhe tough, &c."
I'll dye my petticoat, I'll dye it red.
That round the world I may beg my bread,
And then my parents would wish me dead.
Gudhe tough, gudhe tough, slaun. Shule, Shule, Shule, &c.
Time can only ease my woe,
Since the lad of my heart from me did go.
Uska dhe, Uska dhe, mavourneen
slaun.
Pace
107. Go-thee-thu mavourneen slaun = farewell, my darling.
Shale agra = come, my love.
PACK
108. / told my rock, I sold my ml. "Rock" and "reel," two parts
of an Irish spinning-wheel. The Wild Geese — the Irish Jacobites who left their country for
(service in the French army when the cause of James II. was lost. Mabouchal = my boy. That every tear would turn a mill = "so that" every tear, &c.
109. /'// dye my petticoat, &v. Probably a red petticoat was the usual
mark of a beggar in the time when this ballad was written.