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Songs for the Alpina Choir

The Founders of the Alpina Choir

Let's link to the REUNION

Aiglon Web site
Seven Principles that guide Aiglon
Words By John Corlette
Click on Steve's English Site
Click on JK's Travel Site

These are core songs that the Aiglon Choir likes to sing.

It is in ALPHABETICAL ORDER by title. When it's time to sing on SKYPE, send a CHAT message to Steve [SteveEnglishTeacher is the account] and then he will ADD you to the ongoing choir session. FIRST DAY of each month.

LOOK ON THIS PAGE if there is a change of the time and date. FORT LAUDERDALE TIME: 3 pm to 3:30 pm for singing. 30 minutes a month. (15h00 to 15h30)

03h00 in Asia (I know, it's rough)

12h00 in California

21h00 in Switzerland and France

(Is that a good time, AFH, PT and GD?)


Ash Grove

Down yonder green valley where streamlets meander, When twilight is fading, I pensively rove, Or at the bright noontide in solitude wander Amid the dark shades of the lonely Ash grove.

'Twas there while the blackbird was joyfully singing, I first met my dear one, the joy of my heart; Around us for gladness the bluebells were ringing, Ah! then little thought I how soon we should part.

Still grows the bright sunshine o'er valley and mountain, Still warbles the blackbird his note from the tree; Still trembles the moonbeam on streamlet and fountain, But what are the beauties of nature to me.

With sorrow, deep sorrow, my bosom is laden, All day I go mourning in search of my love. Ye echoes, O tell me, where is the sweet maiden? She sleeps 'neath the green turf down by the Ash grove


BARLEY MOW: Here's good health to the quart pot Good health to Barley Mow Here's good health to the quart pot Good health to Barley Mow

CHORUS: OH, the quart pot, the pint pot, the gill pot, the olity, quality try a little bit more, Here's good health, good health to barley mow-OH-OH-Oh

* gallon / * half bushel / * bushel / * half barrel / * barrel / * land-lord / * land-lady / * bar-maid / * brewer / >>>>>>>>

FINAL CHORUS Here's good health to the brewer, Good health to Barley Mow; Jolly good health to the brewer, Good health to Barley Mow; Oh, the brewer, the landlord, the barmaid, the barrel, half barrel, the gallon, half gallon, the pint pot, half a pint, the gill pot, half a gill, the quart pot, the nipperkin and a round bowl; HAVE A LITTLE DROP MORE... Here's good health, good health to Barley Mow!



Black Velvet Band ..... In a neat little town they call Belfast Apprenticed in trade I was bound And many an hour of sweet happiness I spent in that neat little town Till bad misfortune befell me And caused me to stray from the land Far away from my friends and relations To follow the black velvet band

CHORUS: Her eyes they shone like the diamond You'd think she was queen of the land And her hair hung over her shoulder Tied up in a black velvet band

Well, I was out strolling one evening Not meaning to go very far When I met with a pretty young damsel When i watched, she took from a customer And slipped it right into my hand Then the Watch came and put me in prison Bad luck to the black velvet band CHORUS

Next morning before judge and jury For our trial I had to appear The judge, he said, "Young fellow The case against you is quite clear And seven years is your sentence You're going to Van Dieman's Land Far away from your friends and relations


So come all you jolly young fellows I'd have you take warning by me And whenever you're out on the liquor Beware of the pretty colleen They'll fill you with whiskey and porter Until you're not able to stand And the very next thing that you know You're landed in Van Dieman's Land CHORUS


GAMBLER --- On a warm summer's evening On a train bound for nowhere i met up with the gambler, we were both too tired to sleep, So we took turns in staring at the window at the darkness until boredom overtook us and he began to speek.

He said son i've made a life out of reading peoples faces, Knowing what the cards were by the way they held their eyes, And if you dont mind me saying, I can see youre out of aces , for a taste of your whiskey, I'll give you some advice. So I handed him my bottle and he drank down my last swallow He bummed a cigarette and asked me for a light.

He said Now every gambler knows that the secret to surving is knowing what to throw away and knowing what to keep You never count your money when youre sitting at the table, there'll be time enough to count it when the dealings done

And the night got desperate quite and his face lost all expression He quenches out his cigarrette and faded off to sleep And somewhere in the darkness The gambler, he broke even, And in his final words I found an Ace that I could keep.

You got to know when to hold them Know when to fold them Know what to throw away And know what to keep You never count your money When youre sitting at the table There'll be time enough to count it When the Dealings done.


HE TOLD HER HE LOVED HER -- but OH how he lied (3x) / He told her he loved her but oh how he LI-hi-hi-hied

They were to be married -- but JUST THEN she died...

He went to her funeral just for the ride...

He leaned on her tombstone -- and LAUGHED TILL he cried...

The tombstone fell on him -- and THAT's HOW he died...

She went to heaven and fluttered and flied...

He went to hell and he sizzled and fried...

The moral of this tale is DON'T tell a lie...


"In Dublin's Fair City," ......

Guerric Vornle won a part in a school play because he could sing this song so well.

1. In dublin's fair city, where girls are so pretty I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone She wheeled a wheel-barrow, through streets broad and narrow Crying: cockles and Mussels a-live, a-live oh

Alive, a-live oh, a-live a-live oh Crying,. cockles and mussels a-live, a-live oh

2. She was a fishmonger, and sure 'twas no wonder For so were her father and mother before And they both wheeled their barrow, through streets broad and narrow Crying: cockles and Mussels a-live, a-live oh (REPEAT)

3. 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 a-live, a-live oh Alive, a-live oh, a-live a-live oh Crying,. cockles and mussels a-live, a-live oh



Oh the times are hard and the wages low Leave her, Johnny, leave her But now once more ashore well go And its time for us to leave her

Leave her, Johnny, leave her Oh leave her, Johnny, leave her

For the voyage is done and the winds don't blow And it's time for us to leave her

The winds were foul and the work was hard.... From the Liverpool dock to the London yard....

There was rotten meat and weevly bread You'd eat it or you'd starve to death

I hate to sail on this rotten tub No grog allowed and rotten grub

The skipper was bad but the mate was worse Hed blow you down with a spike and a curse

The mate was a bucko an the old man a Turk The boatswain was a beggar with the middle name o work

The cook's a drunk, he likes to booze 'Tween him and the mate there's little to choose

The old man swears and the mate swears, too The crew all swear and so would you


LITTLE BROWN JUG -- My wife and I live all alone / In a little log shack we call our own

She likes gin and I like rum / I tell you what, we have lots of fun

Ha, ha, ha, you and me, Little brown jug, don't I love thee! Ha, ha, ha, you and me, Little brown jug, don't I love thee!

When I go toiling on the farm I take the little jug under my arm; Place it under a shady tree, Little brown jug,'tis you and me.

'Tis you that makes me friends and foes, 'Tis you that makes me wear old clothes; But, seeing you're so near my nose, Tip her up and down she goes.

If all the folks in Adam's race Were gathered together in one place, I'd let them go without a tear Before I'd part from you, my dear.

If I'd a cow that gave such milk, I'd dress her in the finest silk; Feed her up on oats and hay, And milk her twenty times a day.

I bought a cow from Farmer Jones, And she was nothing but skin and bones; I fed her up as fine as silk, She jumped the fence and strained her milk.

And when I die don't bury me at all, Just pickle my bones in alcohol; Put a bottle o' booze at my head and feet And then I know that I will keep.

The rose is red, my nose is too, The violet's blue and so are you; And yet, I guess, before I stop, We'd better take another drop.


ROVER ---- In Plymouth town there lived a maid, Bless you young women, In Plymouth town there lived a maid, oh, mind what I do say In Plymouth town there lived a maid And she was mistress of her trade...... I'll go no more a-rovin' with you, fair maid A-rovin', a-rovin', since rovin's been my ru-i-n I'll go no more a-rovin' with you, fair maid

Her lips were red her eyes were brown¶ Her hair was black and hanging down¶

This last ten months I've been to see And Hell, this gal looked good to me

I took this maid out for a walk And we had such a lovely talk

I took her hand within my own Said she, "It's time that I was home"

I put my hand upon her knee Said she, "Young man, you're rather free"Ě

I put my hand around her waist Said she, "Young man, you're in great haste"Ě

I put my hand upon her thigh Said she, "Young man, you're rather high"

But when my money all was spent 'Twas off to sea I gladly went



Speed bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing, Onward, the sailors cry, Carry the lad thats born to be king Over the sea to skye.

Loud the winds howl, loud the waves roar, Thunder clouds rend the air. Baffled our foes stand by the shore, Follow they will not dare.

Speed bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing, Onward, the sailors cry, Carry the lad that's born to be king Over the sea to skye.



There is a tavern in the town, in the town, And there my dear love sits him down, sits him down, And drinks his wine 'mid laughter free, And never, never thinks of me.

Chorus: Fare thee well, for I must leave thee, Do not let the parting grieve thee, And remember that the best of friends must part, must part

Adieu, adieu, kind friends adieu, adieu, adieu, I can no longer stay with you, stay with you, I'll hang my harp on a weeping willow tree, And may the world go well with thee.

He left me for a damsel dark, damsel dark, Each Friday night they used to spark, used to spark, And now my love once true to me, Takes that dark damsel on his knee. Chorus:

Oh! dig my grave both wide and deep, wide and deep, Put tombstones at my head and feet, head and feet, And on my breast carve a turtle dove, To signify I died of love. Chorus:



Up to mighty London came an Irishman one day, As the streets are paved with gold, sure ev'ryone was gay; Singing songs of Piccadilly, Strand and Leicester Square, Till Paddy got excited, then he shouted to them there:

Chorus: "lt's a long way to Tipperary, It's a long way to go; It's a long way to Tipperary, To the sweetest girl I know! Good-bye, Piccadilly! Farewell, Leicester Square! It's a long, long way to Tipperary, But my heart's right there! "

Paddy wrote a letter to his Irish Molly O, Saying, "Should you not receive it, Write and let me know! If I make mistakes in spelling, Molly dear," said he " Remember it's the pen that's bad, Don't lay the blame on me." (Chorus)

Molly wrote a neat reply to Irish Paddy 0. Saying. "Mike Mahoney wants to marry me, and so Leave the Strand and Piccadilly, or you'll be to blame For love has fairly drove me silly, hoping you're the same!" (Chorus)


The Wild Rover

I've been a wild rover for manys the year, And I've spent all my money on whiskey and beer, But 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 into an alehouse I used to frequent, And I told the landlady my money was spent, I asked her for credit, she answered me Nay, Such custom as yours I could have every day. (Chorus)

I brought up from my pockets 10 sovereigns bright, And the landlady's eyes lit up with delight, She said I have whiskey and wines of the best, And the words that I spoke they 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 when they've caressed me as oft times before, I never will play the wild rover no more.(Chorus)


"Yellow ribbon" and In her hair she wore a yellow ribbon she wore a yellow ribbon in the merry month of May (HEY HEY) and if you ask her why the HELL she wears it, she wears it for her lover who is far, far away.... FAR away, FAR away, she wears it for her lover who is far, far away.

Around the block she pushed a baby carriage She pushed it in the springtime In the Merry month of May And if you ask her why the heck she pushed it She pushed it for her soldier who was far far away

Far away, far away She pushed it for her soldier Who was far, far away

Behind the door her daddy kept a shotgun He kept it in the springtime In the merry month of May And if you ask him why the heck he kept it He kept it for her soldier who was far far away

Far away, far away He kept it for her soldier Who was far, far away

On the grave she laid the pretty flowers She laid them in the springtime In the merry month of May And if you asked her why the heck she laid them She laid them for her soldier who was far far away

Far away, far away He kept it for her soldier Who was far, far away


Add more songs! Send your suggestions to



GD Gordon Dyke, AFH Tony Hyde, PT Philip Tyack (who else? CRH? JX?)

Raymond Merz / John P Vornle / Alex Holland / Jeremy McWilliam / Kevin DeHaesseleer

Marcantonio Tecchio / Steve Conger / Scott Swerdlin / Scott Tracy / Chuck Lacy / Charlie Greer

Michael Hummel / Peter Payne / Andreas Kehl / George Hartogensis / Paul Kermanshahchi / Charles York / Lawrence Graham / Matthew Velarde / Seif Saghri

Others: Jill Noebels Avery / Jamie Skove / Alan Robinson / Bahman Azarm / Nipper von W.

Honorary Members (the next generation): Stephanie, Nicholas, Marina, Alexandra, Guerric

(Names are absent due to senility and laziness--remedy the situation by sending your name to (Who else)?

Do you want to join the list? Send an email to

You don't have to be part of Alpina to be part of the choir, but you do have to tolerate the name... You can't say, "Is the choir singing tonight?" You have to say, "Is the ALPINA choir singing tonight?"

I know, Bahman, that will be hard...

COMMENTS BY SOME SINGERS: Letter by John Vornle to Philip Tyack: Your efforts have had a great success and created two singing thespians. Congratulations are due to you!

My children all know "Barley Mow," "In Dublin's Fair City," "Yellow ribbon," "He told her he loved her," etc., etc, and it has passed through to their friends and the Boy Scout and Girl Scout movements.... We are also the proud sponsors of an annual Christmas caroling event for the past 20 years - an event that is demanded by popular request, where the core group all know these original songs. I apologize for never having communicated this to you earlier.

Have a Happy, Healthy, Productive 2009!

REPLY BY Philip Tyack: Dear John, Well, well - it is reassuring to know that real quality aesthetic experience can last so long. And indeed be passed on to the next generation to relish the nuances of Barley Mow. In a subsequent post in the UK , years after Aiglon, I found to my horror I was supposed to 'teach' music to a room full of 10 year olds - 30 or so of the little sods. Not knowing what to do, I spent a happy half hour showing them how to do La Bataille de rechauffette, an extremely silly French mountaineers' drinking song which ends by banging your head on the table. Apart from the bruises on foreheads they all remember it as a seminal part of their education. We are now in the south of France - busy with lots of music and being involved in the clochemerle-like village. I run a village choir, being leered at every Monday evening by large old ladies with no teeth and appalling taste in woolly hats. Also sing with a posh choir in Aix en Provence which specialises in French baroque music by Provencal composers - directed by an overweight guy with a pony tail and Issues. Very much doubt if we will make it to the aiglon thing in July. We live on love and fresh air now that the £ has disappeared down the toilet of crooked bankers to everlasting perdition.

But we keep in touch - Lisiane even came to the wedding of our daughter no.2 last summer. She married an Italian dottore. (Daughter that is - not Lisiane). I also keep in regular touch with Jill Noebels / Avery. We have been sending each other diverting messages for years - but all my efforts to persuade her to come and test drive my hammock have so far come to nought. I live in hope. Good to hear from you. And as Dolly Parton says so wisely "The way I see it is : if you want a rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain." Hear, hear. Philip

Write to let's sing along!