Old Irish air. "The pretty girl milking her cow" (Terences farewell... Written by Helen Selina, later Lady Dufferin)
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Thomas Moore. Traditional air. "Gramachree"
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Londonderry air Would God I were the tender apple blossom That floats and falls from off the twisted bough, To lie and faint within your silken bosom, Within your silken bosom as that does now! Or would I were a little burnish'd apple For you to pluck me, gliding by so cold, While sun and shade your robe of lawn will dapple, Your robe of lawn, and you hair's spun gold. Yea, would to God I were among the roses That lean to kiss you as you float between, While on the lowest branch a bud uncloses, A bud uncloses, to touch you, queen. Nay, since you will not love, would I were growing, A happy daisy, in the garden path; That so your silver foot might press me going, Might press me going even unto death.
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Special thanks to momper for the lyrics.
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Words by George Eastman. Music by Stephen Foster.
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Written by John Keegen Casey and George B. Aitkin. Maire is pronounced Moya.
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Pourquoi me reveiller, o souffle du printemps Werther - Massenet From, Terra di Fuoco. (land of fire) 1939
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From a radio broadcast.
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Linden Lea. William Barnes. Within the woodland`s, flowery gladed, by the oak tree`s mossy moot, the shining grass-blades, timber shaded, now do quiver under foot; and birds do whistle overhead, and water`s bubbling in its bed, and there for me the apple tree do lean down low in Linden Lea. When leaves that lately were a springing now do fade within the copse, and painted birds do hush their singing up upon the timber tops: And brown leav`d fruit`s a-turning red, in cloudless sunshine overhead, with fruit for me the apple tree do lean down low in Linden Lea. Let other folk make money faster in the air of dark-roomed towns, I don`t dread a peevish master: Though no man may heed my frowns, I be free to go abroad, or take again my homeward road, to where, for me the apple tree do lean down low in Linden Lea.
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The third and last recording John McCormack made Of this beautiful ballad.
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By Harold Boulton and Sir Granville Bantock. With spoken introduction by John McCormack
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Song O` my heart.
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Pathé, New York. 1921 La Traviata
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Semele: O sleep, why do'st thou leave me? O Sleep, why dost thou leave me? Why they visionary Joys remove? O Sleep again deceive me, To my Arms restore my wand'ring Love O Sleep, why dost thou leave me? Why they visionary Joys remove? O Sleep again deceive me, To my Arms restore my wand'ring Love
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One of the Tenors greatest contributions to Italian song. Non è ver? Quando assiso a te vicin ti parlai, ben mio, d`amor. Ti ricordi angel divin? palpitaro I nostri cor. Quando assiso a te vicin ti parlai, ben mio, d`amor. Ah! No, non è ver?. Ah! No, no, non è ver? No, no! Ti ricordi, angel divin? palpitaro I nostri cor? No, non è ver? Ah! Tu dicesti ti sovvien? per la vita Io t`amerò! Ma mentisti indegna appien non fu il cor che tel dettò. Tu dicesti, ti sovvien? per la vita Io t`amerò! Ah! No, non è ver? Ah! No, no, non è ver? Ma mentisti indegna appien non fu il cor che tel detto No, non è ver? No, non è ver? It`s not true? When you sat close to me, you spoke, my darling, of love. Do you remember, angel divine how our hearts beat? Ah! No, it`s not true? Do you remember. angel divine, how our hearts beat? Do you recall? you said you would love me forever But it was all a lie It was not your heart that spoke Do you recall? you said you would love me forever No, it`s not true? No it`s not true? It was all a lie It was not your heart that spoke No, no, it`s not true?
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Special thanks to momper for the lyrics
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Brendan O`Dowda Commissioned a song writer to set this beautiful poem to music. The poem was written at the time of a mass migration to California from Ireland; so is also a social and historic document. Sung by one of Ireland`s great but underrated singers
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From a poem by Thomas Moore. (Old Irish air. "Miss Molly") Arrangement by Herbert Hughes
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Still as the Night (Goetze) (Traditional German verse, trans. Elizabeth M. Lockwood, adapted by McCormack/Carl Götze) (25 November 1941), with Maggie Teyte, soprano
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I`m indebted to Mike for sharing his extensive McCormack collection.
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Il Pastor fido Was first performed at the Queens theatre in London, 22 November 1712
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From wind among the reeds. W B Yates / Thomas Dunhill
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F W Rosier / Jean Baptiste Faure. Painting by Bartolome Esteban Murillo. 1665
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