The Prickilie Bush

Traditional Song - arranged and adapted by Judy Collins
© 1961 Universal Music Group (ASCAP)/The Wildflowers Company (ASCAP)
(Administered by Universal Music Corp.)

Chorus:
O, the prickilie bush
It pricks my heart full sore
If I ever get out of the prickilie bush
I'll never get in it anymore

Hangman, stay your rope
Will you stay it for a while
I think I see my mother coming
Ridin' over yonder stile
Mother, did you bring me gold
Or silver to pay my fee
For to save my body from the cold clay ground
My neck from the gallows tree
I didn't bring you gold
Or silver to pay your fee
But I have come to see you hang
On the gallows tree

Chorus

Hangman, stay your rope
Will you stay it for a while
I think I see my father comin'
Over yonder stile
Father, did you bring me gold
Or silver to pay my fee
Or have you come to see me hang
On the gallows tree
I didn't bring ya gold
Or silver to pay your fee
Your mother and I have come today
To see you on the gallows tree

Chorus

Hangman, stay your rope
Once more for a while
I think I see my darlin' comin'
Over yonder stile
Darlin', did you bring me gold
Or silver to pay my fee
For to save my body from the cold clay ground
My neck from the gallows tree

I brought ya gold
And silver to pay your fee
I did not come to see you hang
On the gallows tree

Oh, the prickilie bush,
It pricks my heart full sore
But now that I'm out of the prickilie bush
I'll never get in it any more

The Rising Of The Moon

Traditional Song - arranged and adapted by Judy Collins
© 1961 Universal Music Group (ASCAP)/The Wildflowers Company (ASCAP)
(Administered by Universal Music Corp.)

Ah then tell me Sean O'Farrell
Tell me why you're hurrying so
Hush my boy oh hush and listen
And his eyes were all aglow
I bear orders from the captain
Get you ready quick and soon
For the pikes must be together
At the rising of the moon

Ah then tell me Sean O'Farrell
Where the gatherin' is to be
In the old spot by the river
Right well known to you and me
One thing more for signal token
Whistle up the marchin' tune
With your sword upon your shoulder
At the rising of the moon

Rumors passed along the valley
Like a banshee's lonely croon
And a thousand blades were flashin'
At the rising of the moon

All along the singing river
That dark mass of men were seen
Far above their shining weapons
Hung their own immortal green
Death to every foe and traitor
Foreign strike the marchin' tune
And hurrah me boys for Ireland
Tis the rising of the moon

Well, they fought for poor old Ireland
And full bitter was their fate
Oh what glorious pride and sorrow
Fill the name of ninety-eight
Yet thank God while hearts are beating
Foreign manhood's burnin' noon,
We shall follow in their footsteps
At the rising of the moon.

Death to every foe and traitor
Foreign, strike the marchin' tune
And hurrah me boys for freedom
Tis the rising,
Tis the rising of the moon

Twelve Gates To The City

Traditional Song - arranged and adapted by Judy Collins
© 1962 Universal Music Group (ASCAP)/The Wildflowers Company (ASCAP)
(Administered by Universal Music Corp.)

Three gates in the east
Three gates in the west
Three gates in the north
Three gates in the south
That makes twelve gates to the city Hallelujah

Chorus:
Oh what a beautiful city
Oh what a beautiful city
Oh what a beautiful city
There's twelve gates to the city Hallelujah

Walk right in, you're welcome to the city
Step right up welcome to the city
Walk right through those gates to the city
There are twelve gates to the city Hallelujah

Chorus

Who are those children all dressed in red
Twelve gates to the city
Must be the children that Moses sent
There are twelve gates to the city Hallelujah

Rich and the poor welcome to the city
Young and the old welcome to the city
Weak and the strong welcome to the city
There are twelve gates to the city Hallelujah

Chorus

Chorus

Wars Of Germany

Traditional Song - arranged and adapted by Judy Collins
© 1961 Universal Music Group (ASCAP)/The Wildflowers Company (ASCAP)
(Administered by Universal Music Corp.)

Oh, woe be to the orders
That marched my love away
And woe be to the bitter tears
I shed upon this day

And woe be to the bloody wars
Of high Germany
For they've carried off my own true love
Left a broken heart to bleed

The drums beat in the morning
Before the break of day
And the wee, wee pipes played loud and shrill
While yet the morn was gray

And the bonnie flags were all unfurled
Was a gallant sight to see
But sorrow for my soldier lad
Who marched to Germany

Oh, woe be to the orders
That marched my love away
And woe be to the bitter tears
I shed upon this day

And woe be to the country
Where our men are forced to be
And woe be to the foreign wars
That stole my love from me

Wild Mountain Thyme

Traditional Song - arranged and adapted by Judy Collins
© 1961 Universal Music Group (ASCAP)/The Wildflowers Company (ASCAP)
(Administered by Universal Music Corp.)

Oh the summer time is coming
And the leaves are sweetly turning
And the wild mountain thyme
Blooms around the purple heather

Chorus:
Will you go laddie go
And we'll all go together
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the purple heather
Will you go laddie go

If my true love will not go
I will surely find another
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the purple heather

Chorus