Music from Ireland in Colonial America
Expanded information from the Rogues' Consort CD Booklet

THE TUNES

They crossed an ocean of green, but before them still lay another ocean…a vast green sea of uncharted forests

The Ocean of Water

1. Rowing from Isla to Uist  (3:39) from Patrick McDonald, 1784.  CP,MJ Rowing from ship to the new green shore, perhaps never to return home.

The Ocean of Trees

2. Blackbird (1:03)  Bunting learned this air from a harper in County Mayo. MJ  A vast green ocean of uncharted forests

 Sir William and Johnson Hall

3. Bumper Squire Jones (1:11) by Carolan, as Ye Good Fellows All, one of the finest Bacchanalian songs ever written, and a fitting tribute to Sir William Johnson’s Johnson Hall in New York Colony. Bunting heard it at the Belfast Harp Festival in 1792; and the Tuesday Club in Annapolis knew it by 1750.   CP, SJ, MJ  medley with Paddy MacRory (One Bottle More)

4. Paddy MacRory  (1:25) appeared in Bunting by this title. With words, it became the song One Bottle More, in Crosby’s Irish Musical Repository and in the Edinburgh Musical Miscellany.   CP, SJ, MJ

Here are the full lyrics as published by Crosby.

One Bottle More

From Crosby’s Irish Musical Repository

 Assist me, ye lads who have hearts void of guile,
To sing in the praises of old Ireland’s isle,
Where true hospitality opens the door,
And friendship detains us for one bottle more.

 Chorus:
One bottle more, arrah, one bottle more,
And friendship detains us for one bottle more.

Old England your taunts on our country forbear;
With our bulls and our brogues we are true and sincere;
For if but one bottle remains in our store,
We have generous hearts to give that bottle more.

 Chorus:
That bottle more, arrah, that bottle more,
We have generous hearts to give that bottle more.

At Candy’s in Church Street, I’ll sing of a set
Of six Irish blades who together had met;
Four bottles apiece made us call for our score,
And nothing remained but one bottle more.

 Chorus:
One bottle more, arrah, one bottle more,
And nothing remained but one bottle more. 

Our bill being paid, we were loth to depart,
For friendship had grappled each man by the heart,
Where the least touch, you know, makes an Irishman roar,
And the whack from shillelah brought six bottles more.

 Chorus:
Six bottles more, arrah, six bottles more,
And the whack from shillelah brought six bottles more.

Slow Phoebus had shone through our window so bright,
Quite happy to view his blest children of light;
So we parted with hearts neither sorry nor sore,
Resolving next night to drink twelve bottles more.

Chorus:
Twelve bottles more, arrah, twelve bottles more,
Resolving next night to drink twelve bottles more.