The Oul Bog Road-Josef Locke & Orchestra

[ti:The Old Bog Road] [ar:Various Artists] [al:Sounds Of Ireland] [offset:0] [00:01.01]The Oul Bog Road - Josef Locke & Orchestra [00:12.13]My feet are here on Broadway [00:18.89]This blessed harvest morn, [00:23.85]But oh! the ache thats in my heart [00:29.08]For the spot where I was born. [00:35.11] [00:36.35]My weary hands are blistered [00:41.87]Through work in cold and heat! [00:46.60]And oh! to swing a scythe once more [00:49.80] [00:50.51]Through a field of Irish wheat. [00:55.92]but here was I on Broadway [01:00.93]A-building bricks per loa [01:06.76] [01:08.05]Id sooner see the hawthorn tree [01:17.48]By the Old Bog Road. [01:24.39] [01:30.96]My mother died last springtime, [01:37.67]When Erins fields were green. [01:42.64]The neighbours said her waking [01:46.62]Was the finest ever seen. [01:53.84]There were snowdrops and primroses [01:58.33] [01:59.22]Piled high above her bed, [02:02.25] [02:03.25]And Ferns Church was crowded [02:06.96]When her funeral Mass was read. [02:12.84] [02:13.77]but here was I on Broadway [02:18.63]A-building bricks per load. [02:24.93] [02:26.38]When they carried out her coffin [02:36.18]Down the old Bog Road. [02:45.39] [02:49.45]Ah! Lifes a weary puzzle, [02:54.86]Past finding out by man, [02:57.80] [02:59.15]Ill take the day for what its worth [03:02.32]And do the best I can. [03:06.16] [03:07.39]Since no one cares a rush for me [03:11.46]What need is there to moan, [03:14.15] [03:15.61]Ill go my way and draw my pay [03:20.41]And smoke my pipe alone. [03:25.65]Each human heart must bear its grief [03:29.22] [03:30.30]Though bitter be the bode [03:36.71] [03:37.68]but God be with you, Ireland, [03:47.21] [03:47.97]And the Old Bog Road [04:00.26]