Le 8 Drinking songs più famose da cantare nei Pub

Abbiamo raccolto per voi i video e i testi delle più famose canzoni da pub, quelle ballate che tutti cantano a squarciagola dopo svariate pinte di Guinness!

Le 8 Drinking songs più famose da cantare nei Pub

Che voi abbiate deciso di festeggiare il St. Patrick’s Day in Irlanda o in Italia, non potete non cantare a squarciagola una delle mitiche canzoni da pub che si usa intonare durante San Patrizio.

Sono le “drinking songs“: una serie di canzoni diventate ormai famosissime che rallegrano le serate nei pub irlandesi durante i festeggiamenti del santo patrono irlandese.

A Pub With No Beer

Questa canzone è stata adattata da una poesia di Dan Sheehan, scrittore australiano ma originario dell’Irlanda, ed è stata riproposta da numerosi artisti. Forse la versione più conosciuta è quella dei Dubliners.

It’s lonesome away from your kindred and all,
By the campfire at night where the wild dingos call,
But there’s nothing so lonesome, so dull or so drear,
Than to stand in the bar of a pub with no beer.

Now the publican’s anxious for the quota to come,
There’s a faraway look on the face of the bum,
The maid’s gone all cranky and the cook’s acting queer,
What a terrible place is a pub with no beer.

The stockman rides up with his dry, dusty throat,
He breasts up to the bar, pulls a wad from his coat,
But the smile on his face quickly turns to a sneer,
When the barman says suddenly: “The pub’s got no beer!”

There’s a dog on the veranda, for his master he waits,
But the boss is inside, drinking wine with his mates,
He hurries for cover and he cringes in fear.
It’s no place for a dog, round a pub with no beer.

Old Billy, the blacksmith, for the first time in his life,
Has gone home cold sober to his darling wife,
He walks in the kitchen; she says: “You’re early, me dear”
Then he breaks down and he tells her , that the pub’s got no beer

Oh, it’s lonesome away from your kindred and all,
By the campfire at night where the wild dingos call,
But there’s nothing so lonesome, so dull or so drear,
Than to stand in the bar of a pub with no beer.

Video

 

The Irish Rover

Questa canzone tradizionale irlandese racconta il viaggio sfortunato di una nave diretta a New York. La canzone descrive le storie degli uomini che intraprendono questa traversata, il loro passato e quello che avevano lasciato in patria.

On the fourth of July eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from the sweet cove of Cork
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the grand city hall in New York
‘Twas a wonderful craft, she was rigged fore-and-aft
And oh, how the wild winds drove her.
She’d got several blasts, she’d twenty-seven masts
And we called her the Irish Rover.

We had one million bales of the best Sligo rags
We had two million barrels of stones
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides,
We had four million barrels of bones.
We had five million hogs, we had six million dogs,
Seven million barrels of porter.
We had eight million bails of old nanny goats’ tails,
In the hold of the Irish Rover.

There was awl Mickey Coote who played hard on his flute
When the ladies lined up for his set
He was tootin’ with skill for each sparkling quadrille
Though the dancers were fluther’d and bet
With his sparse witty talk he was cock of the walk
As he rolled the dames under and over
They all knew at a glance when he took up his stance
And he sailed in the Irish Rover

There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee,
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Jimmy McGurk who was scarred stiff of work
And a man from Westmeath called Malone
There was Slugger O’Toole who was drunk as a rule
And fighting Bill Tracey from Dover
And your man Mick McCann from the banks of the Bann
Was the skipper of the Irish Rover

We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out
And the ship lost it’s way in a fog.
And that whale of the crew was reduced down to two,
Just meself and the captain’s old dog.
Then the ship struck a rock, oh Lord what a shock
The bulkhead was turned right over
Turned nine times around, and the poor dog was drowned
I’m the last of the Irish Rover

Video

 

The Wild Rover

Forse è la più famosa canzone da bevuta nei pub irlandesi. Le sue origini sono sconosciute e diverse nazioni se ne contendono la paternità così come dibattuto è il significato della canzone. Per alcuni è un inno al brindisi mentre per altri è una canzone sulla temperanza.

I’ve been a wild rover for many a year
And I spent all my money on whiskey and beer,
And now I’m returning with gold in great store
And I never will play the wild rover no more.

chorus: And it’s no, nay, never,
No nay never no more,
Will I play the wild rover
No never no more.

I went to an ale-house I used to frequent
And I told the landlady my money was spent.
I asked her for credit, she answered me “nay
Such a custom as yours I could have any day.”

chorus

I took from my pocket ten sovereigns bright
And the landlady’s eyes opened wide with delight.
She said “I have whiskey and wines of the best
And the words that I spoke sure were only in jest.”

chorus

I’ll go home to my parents, confess what I’ve done
And I’ll ask them to pardon their prodigal son.
And if they caress (forgive) me as ofttimes before
Sure I never will play the wild rover no more.

Video

 

Molly Malone

Non è una canzone qualsiasi, è l’inno ufficiale della città di Dublino, talmente importante da affiancare l’inno nazionale irlandese nelle partite di rugby. Nonostante sia stata probabilmente scritta in Scozia, racconta le sfortunate di vicende di una giovane pescivendola di Howth che di notte faceva la prostituta.

In Dublin’s Fair City
Where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheel’d her wheel barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!

Chorus
Alive, alive o!, alive, alive o!
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!

She was a fishmonger
But sure ‘twas no wonder
For so were her father and mother before
And they each wheel’d their barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!

Chorus

She died of a fever
And no one could save her
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone
But her ghost wheels her barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!

Chorus

Video

 

Whiskey In The Jar

Questa canzone tradizionale irlandese parla di un bandito che è stato ingannato da una donna. Le parole vengono spesso cambiate in base al luogo di provenienza di chi canta: l’ambiente appartiene di solito alle contee di Cork e Kerry in Irlandama ma a volte viene sostituito con i monti Appalachi negli Stati Uniti, dove si sono insediati i primi coloni americani che venivano da Irlanda e Scozia. Esistono tante versioni di questa canzone: The Dubliners, Thin Lizzie, The Pogues, e Metallica, solo per citarne alcuni.

As I was a goin’ over the far famed Kerry mountains
I met with captain Farrell and his money he was counting
I first produced my pistol and I then produced my rapier
Saying “Stand and deliver” for he were a bold deceiver

Chorus:
Mush-a ring dum-a do dum-a da
Wack fall the daddy-o, wack fall the daddy-o
There’s whiskey in the jar

I counted out his money and it made a pretty penny
I put it in me pocket and I took it home to Jenny
She sighed and she swore that she never would deceive me
But the devil take the women for they never can be easy

(Chorus)

I went up to my chamber, all for to take a slumber
I dreamt of gold and jewels and for sure ‘t was no wonder
But Jenny drew me charges and she filled them up with water
Then sent for captain Farrell to be ready for the slaughter

(Chorus)

‘twas early in the morning, just before I rose to travel
Up comes a band of footmen and likewise captain Farrell
I first produced me pistol for she stole away me rapier
I couldn’t shoot the water, so a prisoner I was taken

(Chorus)

Now there’s some take delight in the carriages a rolling
and others take delight in the hurling and the bowling
but I take delight in the juice of the barley
and courting pretty fair maids in the morning bright and early

(Chorus)

If anyone can aid me ‘t is my brother in the army
If I can find his station in Cork or in Killarney
And if he’ll go with me, we’ll go rovin’ in Kilkenny
And I’m sure he’ll treat me better than my own a-sporting Jenny

(Chorus)

Video

 

Beer, Beer, Beer

Questa canzone saluta  e celebra l’uomo che ha inventato la birra: un vero inno di amore degli irlandesi per la loro birra, dal testo semplice e un motivetto orecchiabile, ideale per una serata al pub!

A long time ago, way back in history,
when all there was to drink was nothin but cups of tea.
Along came a man by the name of Charlie Mops,
and he invented a wonderful drink and he made it out of hops.

He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king,
and to his praises we shall always sing.
Look what he has done for us he’s filled us up with cheer!
Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented beer beer beer
tiddly beer beer beer.

The Curtis bar, the James’ Pub, the Hole in the Wall as well
one thing you can be sure of, its Charlie’s beer they sell
so all ye lads a lasses at eleven O’clock ye stop
for five short seconds, remember Charlie Mops 1 2 3 4 5

He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king,
and to his praises we shall always sing.
Look what he has done for us he’s filled us up with cheer!
Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented beer beer beer
tiddly beer beer beer.

A barrel of malt, a bushel of hops, you stir it around with a stick,
the kind of lubrication to make your engine tick.
40 pints of wallop a day will keep away the quacks.
Its only eight pence hapenny and one and six in tax, 1 2 3 4 5

He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king,
and to his praises we shall always sing.
Look what he has done for us he’s filled us up with cheer!
Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented beer beer beer
tiddly beer beer beer.

The Lord bless Charlie Mops!

Video

 

Finnegan’s Wake

Come molte canzoni irlandesi, serie e irriverenti, anche questa celebra un tema caro alla loro cultura: l’amore degli irlandesi per i funerali e per il whisky. Questa canzone ha fornito il tema del celebre romanzo di James Joyce.

Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin Street, a gentle Irishman mighty odd
He had a brogue both rich and sweet, an’ to rise in the world he carried a hod
You see he’d a sort of a tipplers way but the love for the liquor poor Tim was born
To help him on his way each day, he’d a drop of the craythur every morn

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake

One morning Tim got rather full, his head felt heavy which made him shake
Fell from a ladder and he broke his skull, and they carried him home his corpse to wake
Rolled him up in a nice clean sheet, and laid him out upon the bed
A bottle of whiskey at his feet and a barrel of porter at his head

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake

His friends assembled at the wake, and Mrs Finnegan called for lunch
First she brought in tay and cake, then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch
Biddy O’Brien began to cry, “Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see,
Tim avourneen, why did you die?”, “Will ye hould your gob?” said Paddy McGee

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake

Then Maggie O’Connor took up the job, “Biddy” says she “you’re wrong, I’m sure”
Biddy gave her a belt in the gob and left her sprawling on the floor
Then the war did soon engage, t’was woman to woman and man to man
Shillelagh law was all the rage and a row and a ruction soon began

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake

Mickey Maloney ducked his head when a bucket of whiskey flew at him
It missed, and falling on the bed, the liquor scattered over Tim
Bedad he revives, see how he rises, Timothy rising from the bed
Saying “Whittle your whiskey around like blazes, t’underin’ Jaysus, do ye think I’m dead?”

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake

Video

 

Wearing Of The Green

La maggior parte delle persone che indossano il colore verde il giorno di San Patrizio è per celebrare il patrimonio irlandese. La canzone racconta proprio di questo colore: il verde è indossato perché l’Irlanda è conosciuta come l’Isola di Smeraldo ed è uno dei colori della bandiera, simbolo della natura ribelle degli irlandesi.

O Paddy dear, and did ye hear the news that’s goin’ round?
The shamrock is by law forbid to grow on Irish ground!
No more Saint Patrick’s Day we’ll keep, his color can’t be seen
For there’s a cruel law ag’in the Wearin’ o’ the Green.”
I met with Napper Tandy, and he took me by the hand
And he said, “How’s poor old Ireland, and how does she stand?”
“She’s the most distressful country that ever yet was seen
For they’re hanging men and women there for the Wearin’ o’ the Green.”

“So if the color we must wear be England’s cruel red
Let it remind us of the blood that Irishmen have shed
And pull the shamrock from your hat, and throw it on the sod
But never fear, ‘twill take root there, though underfoot ‘tis trod.

When laws can stop the blades of grass from growin’ as they grow
And when the leaves in summer-time their color dare not show
Then I will change the color too I wear in my caubeen
But till that day, please God, I’ll stick to the Wearin’ o’ the Green.

Video