1. Black is the Color
2. "Scotland Uber Alles" Set
3. Generations of Change
4. Katie's Visit to San Francisco / Full-Rigged Ship
5. Arthur McBride
6. The Boys of Barr na Sraide
7. Back to Tyrone
8. The Auld Triangle
9. Road to Glory
10. Oro Se Do Bhatha Abhaille
11. The Mosstrooper's Lament
12. Another Man's Cause

CHORUS
Black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some roses fair
She has the sweetest smile, and the gentlest hands
I love the ground whereon she stands

I love my love, and well she knows
I love the ground where o'er she goes
How I wish the day, it soon would come
When she and I could live as one

So I go to the Clyde where I moan and weep
For satisfied I never can be
I'll write her a letter, just a few short lines
And suffer death a thousand times

Anders - bass guitar
Frances - acoustic guitar
Maggie - fiddle
Wolf - highland pipes

Me faither was a baillie frae a wee farm at Caithlie
He worked on the land all the days of his life
By the time he made second, he aye said he reckoned
He'd ploughed near on half of the east nook of Fife
He's feed on at Randerston, Crawhill and Clephinton
Cambo and Carnbee and big Rennie Hill
At Kingsbarn he's married, at Boarhills he's buried,
But man, had he lived, he'd be ploughing on still.

For those days were his days, those ways were his ways
To follow the ploo while his back was still strong
But those days have passed and the time come at last
For the weakness of age to make way for the young

For that day was my day, that way was my way
To follow this fish while my back was still strong
But that day has passed and the time come at last
For the weakness of age to make way for the young

For this day is their day, this way is their way
To ride the rough rigs while their backs are still strong
But this day will pass and the time come at last
For the weakness of age to make way for the young

For the morn will be their day, what will be their way
What will they make of their land, sea, and sky
Man, I've seen awfae' change, but it still seems so strange
To look at my world through a young laddie's eyes

For this day is your day, what will be your way
What will you make of your land sea and sky
The future is yours to make, so for your children's sake
Take a look at your world through a young laddie's eyes

Anders - acoustic guitar
Frances - bouzouki, mandolin
Maggie - fiddle
Wolf - bodhran

I had a first cousin called Arthur McBride
And we went a walkin' down by the seaside
Seekin' good fortune, and what might betide
For it bein' on Christmas mornin'
And for recreation we went on a tramp
Where we met Sergeant Harper and Corporal Cramp
And a little wee drummer, intendin' to camp
For the day bein' pleasant and charmin'
"Good mornin', good mornin'," the Sergeant did cry
"And the same to you, gentlemen," we did reply
Intendin' no harm, but meant to pass by
For it bein' on Christmas mornin'

Says he, "My fine fellows, if you will enlist
It's ten guineas I quickly shall shove in your fist
And a crown in the bargain for to kick off the dust
And drink the King's health in the mornin'
For a soldier he leads a very fine life
And he always is blessed with a pretty young wife
And he pays all his debts without trouble or strife
And always is pleasant and charmin'
And a soldier he always is decent and clean
In the finest of clothes he is constantly seen
While other poor fellows are dirty and mean
And sup on thin gruel in the mornin'."

But says Arthur, "I wouldn't be proud of your clothes
For you've only the mend of them as I suppose
And you dare not remove them one night, for you know
You'll surely be flogged in the mornin'
And although that we are single and free
We take great delight in our own company
And we have no desire strange faces to see
Although your offers are charmin'
And we have no desire to take your advance
All hazards and dangers we'll barter on chance
For you have no scruples, and you'll send us to France
Where we'd surely be shot without warnin'."

"Oh, now," says the Sergeant, "If I hear one more word
I instantly then will draw out my sword
And run through your bodies as strength can afford
So now you gay devils take warnin'!"
But Arthur and I we took in the odds
And we gave them no chance for to lunge out their swords
Our trusty shillelidhs came over their heads
And bad them take that as fair warnin'
As for the wee drummer, we rifled his pouch
And we made a football of his rowdy-dow-dow
Threw it in the tide for to rock and to roll
And bade it a tedious returnin'
And as for the rapiers that hung at their sides
We flung them as far as we could in the tide
"To the devil I bid ye!" cried Arthur McBride
"And temper their steel in the mornin'!"

Anders - acoutic guitar
Frances - bouzouki
Maggie - vocal, fiddle
Wolf - drums

Oh, the town that climbs the mountains, and looks out upon the sea
At sleeping time or waking, 'tis there I long to be
To walk again those kindly streets, the place where life began
With the boys of Barr na Sraide who hunted for the wren

With cudgels stout they roamed about in search of the dreolin
We searched for birds from every furze, from Litir to Dooneen
We danced for joy beneath the sky, life held no print nor plan
When the boys of Barr na Sraide went hunting for the wren

And when the hills were bleeding, and the rifles were aflame
To the rebel homes of Kerry the Saxon strangers came
But the men who dares the Auxies and who fought the Black and Tans
Were those boys of Barr na Sraide who hunted for the wren

But now they toil in foreign soil where they have made their way
Deep in the heart of London town and over in Broadway
And I am left to sing their deeds, and praise them while I can
Those boys of Barr na Sraide who hunted for the wren

And here's a health to them tonight, wherever they may be
By the groves of Carham River or the slopes of Bi na Ti
John Daly and Batt Andy, and the Sheehans, Con and Dan
And the boys of Barr na Sraide who hunted for the wren

And when the wheel of life runs out, and peace comes over me
Just take me back to that old town between the hills and sea
I'll take my rest in those green fields, the place where life began
With those boys of Barr na Sraide who hunted for the wren

Anders - electric guitar, bass guitar
Frances - acoustic guitar
Maggie - vocal
Wolf - drums

I walk these empty streets alone
Cold and empty, on my own
The city holds nothing for me
There ain't no work no more
A haggard look toward the ground
It makes me sick when I look around
To see the utter depravity
Of a broken down society

CHORUS
I'm going home, back to Tyrone
I'm going home, back to Tyrone
Just take me back, I'm on the rack
I'm so alone, just take me home
Back to Tyrone

New York's the place where the dollar's gold
And if you ain't got it, life's a hole
Nobody cares, and nobody
Wants to know your name
If I go home, I can't come back
But what the hell, I'll take the flack
Anything's better than being alone
Thank god I'm going home

Anders - electric guitar, harmony vocals
Frances - bouzouki, harmony vocals
Maggie - lead vocal
Wolf - drums, harmony vocals

Oh, a hungry feelin'
Came o'er me stealin'
And the mice were squeelin'
In my prison cell

CHORUS
And the auld triangle went jingle-jangle
All along the banks Of the Royal Canal

While the screw was peepin', the lag lay sleepin'
Dreamin' of his girl, Sal

In the female prison, there lie seventy-five women
And among them I wish I did dwell

Frances - harmony vocal Maggie - harmony vocal
Wolf - lead vocal

Lyrics will be added as soon as Maggie gets them to me...stay tuned.
- The WebMaster

Anders - electric guitar
Frances - bouzouki
Maggie - bass guitar Wolf - drums

Lyrics will be added as soon as Maggie gets them to me...stay tuned.
- The WebMaster

Anders - bass guitar, harmony vocal
Frances - bouzouki, harmony vocal
Maggie - lead vocal
Wolf - djembe, harmony vocal

Lyrics will be added as soon as Maggie gets them to me...stay tuned.
- The WebMaster

Anders - acoustic guitar
Frances - mandolin
Maggie - vocal, fiddle
Wolf - drums

Gunshots shatter in the dead of night, just another fire fight
For the people of this little town
Behold the dying soldier, he's feeling ten years older
As he's lying face down on the ground
And all the words that are in his head, and all the words his mother said
As she would put him to bed back home

CHORUS
Your daddy, he died in the Falklands
Fighting for another man's cause
And your brother, he was killed in the last war
Your mother, she's lying home alone

Now she wonders at it all
Just in whose name did these brave young heroes fall
How many more will answer that call
They're going to fight and die in another senseless war
They're going to die for a religion they don't believe in at all
They're going to die in a place they should never have been at all
Never have been at all