Christy Moore - Aisling Lyrics
See the bright new moon is rising,Above the land of black and greenHear the rebels voices calling,I will not die 'till you bury meThe aunt upstairs in the bed she is calling,Why has he forsaken meFaded pictures in the hallway,Which one of them brown ghosts is heBless the wind that shakes the barley,Curse the spade and curse the ploughI've counted years and weeks and days,And I wish to God I was with you nowFare thee well me black-haired diamond,Fare thee well me own AislingAt night fond dreams of you still haunt me,Far across the grey north seaAnd the wind it blows from the North and South,To the East And to the WestI will be like the wind my love,For I will know no rest 'till I return to thee1, 2, 3 telegraph poles,Standing on the cold black roadThe night is fading into morning,Give us a drop of your sweet poitinThe rain was lashing - the sun was rising,The wind was howling through the treesThe madness from the mountains crawling,When I saw you first my own AislingBless the wind that shakes the barley,Curse the spade and curse the ploughI've counted years and weeks and days,And I wish to God I was with you nowFare thee well my black haired diamond,Fare thee well my own AislingAt night fond dreams of you still haunt me,Far across the grey north sea
