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The Wind Blew High

The wind, the wind, the wind blew high
The rain came tumbling from the sky
Rosie Kelly says she’ll die
If she doesn’t get a boy with a roving eye

She is handsome, she is pretty
She is the girl from the Belfast city
She is courting
One, two, three
Please have a guess who he’ll be

Micky Macken says he loves her
All the world is fighting for her
He raps at the knocker and he rings the bell:
‘Please, Mrs Kelly, is your daughter in?’

‘She’s neither in, she’s neither out
She’s in the back garden walking about.’
Up comes Rosie dressed in silk
A rose in her breast and a can of milk
‘Oh,’ says Micky, ‘give me a kiss.’
‘I will not indeed! Here’s a sup of this.’


NO AUDIO AVAILABLE

Db Item 127 Musictr
Db Item 127 Musictr

© 

Notes from Hugh Shields

Anne Rowlands, Belfast.  See  A Gomme’s The traditional games of England, Scotland and Ireland ((vol 2, 1964:387–90)).  [From a recording of singing by Anne Rowlands – “tape 17”: not located].