I was living in Galway, and used to hear Don sing this in Monroes, around ‘99. I couldn’t get enough of it. The quality of his voice is unrivalled. I’ll never forgive Bláthnaid Ní Chofaigh for not promoting him in Irelands got talent, and voting against him…
Sad,time in ireland 🇮🇪 😢 the people coming here now same situation 😢not a great welcome by some people HAVE FORGOTTEN THERE HISTORY SPOILED BASTARDS OF RICH PEOPLE WHO SPAT ON THEIR OWN MADE LIFE UNBELIEVABLE THEY HAD TO LEAVE HELPED BY THE CHURCH NO TIME FOR POOR BASTARDS OUR,HISTORY IS WORST THAN ENGLAND THEY LOKED AFTER US
I think remember I heard this song in Watergate years later a man got up on a stage he sang Shannagolden I didn't know the song I got suspicious I knew I heard this song years ago in Watergate
Don stiffe is one of our legends in the folklore of Irish singing what a magical voice listening to Dons stuff with your eyes closed can take you like a bird flying around our beautiful cliffs of Ireland
father dear, and I often hear you speak of Erin's isle Her lofty scenes, her valleys green, her mountains rude and wild They say it is a lovely land wherein a prince might dwell Then, why did you abandon it? Oh, the reason to me, tell My son, I loved my native land with energy and pride 'Til a blight came over all my crops and my sheep and cattle died The rents and taxes were to pay, and I could not them redeem And that's the cruel reason I left old Skibbereen 'Tis well do I remember the bleak November day When the bailiff and the landlord came to drive us all away They set the roof on fire with their cursed English spleen And that's another reason I left old Skibbereen Oh, your mother too, God rest her soul, lay on the snowy ground She fainted in her anguishing, seeing the desolation 'round She never rose but passed away from life to immortal dreams And that's another reason I left old Skibbereen Oh, you were only two years old and feeble was your frame I could not leave you with my friends, for you bore your father's name I wrapped you in my cóta mór at the dead of the night unseen And I heaved a sigh and I said goodbye to dear old Skibbereen Oh well, father dear, and the day will come when in vengeance we will call And Irish men, both stout and tall, will rally unto the call I'll be the man to lead the band beneath the flag of green And loud and high, we'll raise the cry, "Revenge for Skibbereen!"
My mother’s home & my Aunt’s god rest there souls 🕊🙏🏻..☘️☘️.they both passed away last year !. Beautiful song ..bought me to tears .. home of my ancestors ❤️
