Percy French - Songs

Songs

The following songs are attributed to Percy French:

  • Abdul Abulbul Amir, 1877
  • Sweet Marie
  • Rafferty's Racin' Mare
  • The Hoodoo
  • The Oklahoma Rose, 1910
  • Phil the Fluther's Ball
  • Come Back Paddy Reilly to Ballyjamesduff, 1912
  • Slattery's Mounted Fut, 1889
  • Andy McElroe, 1888
  • Fighting McGuire
  • The Girl on a Big Black Mare
  • Mat Hannigan's Aunt, 1892
  • Little Brigid Flynn
  • Mick's Hotel
  • The Mountains of Mourne, 1896
  • When Erin Wakes, 1900
  • McBreen's Heifer
  • The Fortunes of Finnegan
  • Mulligan's Masquerade
  • The Night that Miss Cooney Eloped
  • Drumcolligher
  • Jim Wheelahan's Automobeel
  • Are Ye Right There Michael?, 1897
  • Eileen Oge (The Pride of Petravore)
  • Donegan's Daughter
  • Father O'Callaghan
  • Maguire's Motor Bike
  • Whistlin' Phil McHugh
  • No More of Yer Golfin' for Me
  • The Darlin' Girl from Clare
  • Pretendy Land, 1907
  • Mrs Brady
  • The Mary Ann McHugh
  • The Kerry Courting, 1909
  • A Sailor Courted a Farmer's Daughter (parody of the folk song)
  • Tullinahaw, 1910
  • The Emigrants's Letter, 1910 (Cutting the Corn in Creeslough)
  • Kitty Gallagher
  • Flanagan's Flying Machine, 1911
  • Who said the Hook never Hurted the Worms?
  • I Fought a Fierce Hyena
  • The Killyran Wrackers, 1914
  • Larry Mick McGarry, 1915

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Famous quotes containing the word songs:

    In her days every man shall eat in safety
    Under his own vine what he plants, and sing
    The merry songs of peace to all his neighbors.
    William Shakespeare (1564–1616)

    And our sov’reign sole Creator
    Lives eternal in the sky,
    While we mortals yield to nature,
    Bloom awhile, then fade and die.
    —Unknown. “Hail ye sighing sons of sorrow,” l. 13-16, Social and Campmeeting Songs (1828)

    And songs climb out of the flames of the near campfires,
    Pale, pastel things exquisite in their frailness
    With a note or two to indicate it isn’t lost,
    On them at least. The songs decorate our notion of the world
    And mark its limits, like a frieze of soap-bubbles.
    John Ashbery (b. 1927)