Biografia:
Uma lenda do folk irlandês e um dos fundadores do The Dubliners . Luke Kelly também ficou sendo conhecido como “O Trovador de Dublin”, nome de uma canção composta em sua homenagem.
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Outras músicas:
- Black Velvet Band
- Bunclody
- Come My Little Son
- Dirty Old Town
- Gartan Mothers Lullaby
- Im A Rover
- Jail Of Cluain Meala
- Joe Hill
- Lifeboat Mona
- On Raglan Road
- Raglan Road
- School Days Over
- Scorn Not His Simplicity
- Song For Ireland
- Take Her Up To Monto
- The Auld Triangle
- The Nightingale
- The Scoals Of Herring
- The Sun Is Burning
- The Unquiet Grave
- The Wild Rover
Quatro anos de trabalho duro!Neste mês de maio fizemos quatro anos no ar. Continuamos trabalhando na divulgação deste maravilhoso instrumento, obrigado por participar da nossa história!
I use a capo on 2nd fret with slow finger pick
C G C
How hard is my fortune how vain my repining,
Am G
The strong rope of fate for my young neck is twinning,
C G C
My strenght is departed my cheek sunk and sallow,
F G C
While I languish is chains in the Jail of Cluain Meala.
No boy in the village was ever yet milder.
I could play with a child and my sport be no wilder.
I could dance without tiring from morning till evening
And my goalball I'd strike to the lightning of heaven.
At my bed foot decaying my hurley is lying.
Through the lads of the village my goalball is flying.
My horse 'mong the neighbours neglected may fallow.
While this heart young and gay lies cold in Cluan Meala.
Next Sunday the pattern at home will be keeping.
All the lads of the village the fields will be sweeping.
And the dance of fair maidens the evening will hallow.
While this heart young and gay lies cold in Cluan Meala.
C G C
How hard is my fortune how vain my repining,
Am G
The strong rope of fate for my young neck is twinning,
C G C
My strenght is departed my cheek sunk and sallow,
F G C
While I languish is chains in the Jail of Cluain Meala.
No boy in the village was ever yet milder.
I could play with a child and my sport be no wilder.
I could dance without tiring from morning till evening
And my goalball I'd strike to the lightning of heaven.
At my bed foot decaying my hurley is lying.
Through the lads of the village my goalball is flying.
My horse 'mong the neighbours neglected may fallow.
While this heart young and gay lies cold in Cluan Meala.
Next Sunday the pattern at home will be keeping.
All the lads of the village the fields will be sweeping.
And the dance of fair maidens the evening will hallow.
While this heart young and gay lies cold in Cluan Meala.
Luke Mockridge
Luke Noa & The B (...)
Luke Olson
Luke Powers
Luke Rathborne