Collection of Irish Song Lyrics

Humours of Donnybrook Fair

Irish Song Lyrics - Humours of Donnybrook Fair

To Donnybrook steer all you sons of Parnassus Poor painters, poor poets, poor newsmen and knaves To see what the fun is that all fun surpasses The sorrows and sadness of green Erin's slaves Oh Donnybrook Jewel! Full of mirth is your quiver Where all flock from Dublin to gape and to stare At two elegant bridges without e'er a river So success to the humours of Donnybrook Fair Oh you lads that are witty, from famed Dublin city And you that in pastime take any delight To Donnybrook fly, for the time's drawing nigh When fat pigs are hunted and lean cobblers fight When maidens so swift run for a new shift Men muffled in sacks, for a shirt they race there There jockeys well booted and horses sure-footed All keep up the humours of Donnybrook Fair The mason does come with his line and his plumb The sawyer and carpenter, brothers in chips There are carvers and guilders and all sorts of builders With soldiers from barracks and sailors from ships There confectioners, cooks and the printers of books There stampers of linen and weavers repair There widows and maids and all sorts of trades Go join in the humours of Donnybrook Fair There tinkers and nailers and beggars and tailors And singers of ballads and girls of the sieve With Barrack street rangers, the known ones and strangers And many that no one can tell how they live There horsemen and walkers and likewise fruit-hawkers And swindlers the devil himself that would dare With pipers and fiddlers and dandlers and diddlers All met in the humours of Donnybrook Fair 'Tis there are dogs dancing and wild beasts a-prancing With neat bits of painting, red, yellow and gold Toss players and scramblers and showmen and gamblers Pick-pockets in plenty, the young and the old There are brewers and bakers and jolly shoemakers With butchers and porters and men that cut hair There are montebanks grinning, while others are sinning To keep up the humours of Donnybrook Fair Brisk lads and young lassies can fill up their glasses With whiskey and send a full bumper around Jig it off in a tent till their money's all spent And spin like a top till they rest on the ground Oh Donnybrook capers to sweet cat-gut scrapers They bother the vapours and drive away care And what is more glorious, there's naught more uproarious Hurrah for the humours of Donnybrook Fair

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