When apples still grow in November,
When Blossoms still bloom from each tree,
When leaves are still green in December,
It's then that our land will be free,
I wander her hills and her valleys,
And still through my sorrow I see,
A land that has never known freedom,
And only her rivers run free
I drink to the death of her manhood,
Those men who'd rather have died,
Than to live in the cold chains of bondage,
To bring back their rights were denied,
Oh where are you now when we need you,
What burns where the flame used to be,
Are ye gone like the snows of last winter,
And will only our rivers run free?
How sweet is life but we're crying,
How mellow the wine but it's dry,
How fragrant the rose but it's dying,
How gentle the breeze but it sighs,
What good is in youth when it's aging,
What joy is in eyes that can't see,
When there's sorrow in sunshine and flowers,
And still only our rivers run free
- :
- Miscellaneous
- Between The Jigs And The Reels: A Retrospective (Live)
- The Planxty Collection
- Planxty
- Cold Blow and the Rainy Night
- Words & Music
- Between the Jigs and the Reels: A Retrospective
- One Night in Bremen (Live)
- Words and Music
- The Well Below the Valley
- Celtic Love Songs
- Live in Dublin
- The World of Celtic Ballads
- Planete Celtique: The Best of Celtic Music
- Celtic Soul - The Very Best of Irish Music