A fistful of our favourite St. Patrick’s Day tunes

The colour of fried tomatoes. Jealousy displayed and creamy jade. From Billie Joe Armstrong’s Day to Wisconsin’s Bay to John Wayne’s Berets. From the future of employment to Charlton Heston’s soylent. And from a forest manor to the alter ego of Bruce Banner, there’s no colour I’ve seen, that can truly compare to green.

These are songs have crossed glade and river, passed prison walls, and endured nations, fads and decades. Some of these tunes are just beginning their journeys. Others don’t seem like they’ll ever stop.

Sláinte!

Tim Finnegan’s Wake (live at Carnegie Hall) by The Clancy Brothers with Tommy Makem

Poor Tim and his love of the liquor. Originally recorded the Dubliners (by way of James Joyce), this tune tells the story of a solemn wake that descends into something called “Shillelagh law.”

It’s a rousing, hilarious song about death and the water of life.

The Patriot Game by Liam Clancy

In four heart-wrenching minutes we hear a tale of dangerous patriotism, regret and betrayal told by a teenage rebel in a land that for too long has been “half free.”

“I’d read of our heroes, and I wanted the same. To play up my part in the patriot game.”

The youngest of the Clancy family, Liam was Bob Dylan’s favourite balladeer. On this song he sounds like the last troubadour there’ll ever be, bringing news and leaving wisdom.

The Dreadnoughts: Joli Rouge

It’s Dublin by way of the Ivanhoe Pub on Main Street in Vancouver.

The Dreadnoughts are powder-blue polka and black leather punk dancing a jig on a Nova Scotia schooner steered by Stan Rogers.

“Joli Rouge” is a table-thumping shanty about the search for a fine drink made from Saguenay apples.

It’ll set your hearts aglow, “when the real cider starts to flow.”

Polly Vaughan by Martha Tilston

Beautifully unnerving and disturbingly gorgeous.

Somewhere between true crime and the campfire, Martha Tilston relates this folk tale about a young man who accidentally kills his true love, though her beauty once shone like a fountain of snow.

Dearg Doom by Horslips

Myths and jigs, with the odd guitar solo.

Horslips brings elements of arena rock into the pub with this story of a vengeful warrior who can swoop like a hawk with his devil’s blade.

“I am the flash of silver in the sun. When you see me coming you had better run, run, run!”

The Marching Song of Fiach Mac Hugh by Cruachan

A sweet flute rises over gnarly guitars in this rousing marriage of traditional folk and heavy metal.

The tune tells a tale of the 1580 battle in which Irish clans united amid the Wicklow Mountains to rout the colonizing English force led by Arthur Grey. (By some accounts, the outcome of the battle had less to do with the cleverness of the rebels than the fact that Grey led soldiers the same way Colonel Sanders led chickens.)

“Gray said victory was sure soon, the firebrand he’d secure. Until he met at Glenmalure with Fiach Mac Hugh O’Byrne.”

On Morecambe Bay by Christy Moore

Full of regret and resignation, it’s a haunting ballad about the fate of migrant workers that sounds like it’s sung by a ghost.

The tides’ the very devil, and The devil has its day
On the lonely cockle banks of Morecambe Bay

Good Mornin’ Da by The Tossers

It’s 102 seconds of the highest intensity about a wild child seemingly immune to his conscience, if not to consequences.

From the sounds of this, no one has been happier to be in jail. Maybe it’s not as bad when it’s gaol.

What’s Left of the Flag by Flogging Molly

Alternating between moments of mortality, introspection and frenzied outbursts of energy, this song is like one-stop shopping for St. Patrick’s Day. A wistful/angry, rock/folk masterpiece about “the colour we were born to mourn.”

The Rocky Road to Dublin by Luke Kelly

Born into what his sister called “poverty of the utmost,” Luke Kelly was a singular talent and a fine banjo player to boot.

He sings with speed and precision. You won’t be able to keep up, but don’t let that stop you from trying.

Botany Bay by The Wolfe Tones

With a foot-stomping energy, the song tells the story of a brick-layer who quits his job in the hopes of striking gold in Australia.

It’s a great song for St. Patrick’s Day. It’s also perfect if you’ve just been laid off and you need to believe there’s something better on the way.

“Farewell to your bricks and mortar, farewell to your dirty lies/ Farewell to your gangers and gang planks/ And to hell with your overtime.”

Emerald by Thin Lizzy

A hazy tale of battle and rebellion where even the guitars seem to be at war with each other.

Thin Lizzy pairs ‘70s rock with history and maybe a dash of mythology in this tune from the band’s Jailbreak album.

A Pair of Brown Eyes by The Pogues

I was tempted to fill this list solely with Pogues songs.

“Dirty Old Town,” “Streams of Whiskey,” “Boys from the County Hell,” and “The Body of an American” are all fantastic, but there’s something about A Pair of Brown Eyes, right from its first lines.

“One summer evening, drunk to hell/ I sat there nearly lifeless.”

It stands on the shoulders of traditional folk music while telling a modern story about love, war, music and the ghosts of the past.

Whiskey in the Jar by The Dubliners

Everyone from the Irish Rovers to Bryan Adams to Thin Lizzy to Metallica to (appropriately) The Highwaymen has taken a crack at this feisty song about a doomed highwayman.

The mountains change, as does the military rank of Captain Farrell (or was it Colonel Pepper?) but the song’s timeless elements, its melody, pugnacity and melancholy remain.

I like the way everyone sings it. The Dubliners, however, are the only ones who sing like they lived it.

Molly Malone by Dervish with Imelda May

Play this song. But play it late, when the lights are low and no one will catch you weeping into your tumbler.

Bonus

An Irish pub song: The Rumjacks (explicit lyrics)

For everyone who’s had enough of Kiss Me I’m Irish buttons and shamrocks in their beer, this fist-clenched fusion of Irish folk and punk rock fury is indispensable.