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LBRY Claims • Afarewelltovirologyparttwo

21095901e5f89d7f69d8a52d53a4f762f228424f

AFARE
Created On
9 Dec 2023 15:20:48 UTC
Transaction ID
6729d069017854b68b7de19b4aa9cf6f86c8ba52a6d684962ce7d296a1623fd0
No description available.
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Unspecified
Unspecified
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Unspecified
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Controlling
JOHNN
JohnnyMcEldoo
lbry://@joko/JohnnyMcEldoo
For those who are using the mobile version of Odysee, and therefore can't access the pdf, here are the lyrics in plain text: There was, Johnny McEldoo, and McGee, And me, And a cobbler two or three, Went on a spree, One day. We had a bob or two, Which we knew, How to blew, And the beer and whiskey flew, And we all felt gay. We visited McCann’s, MacLaman’s, Humpty Dan’s. We then went into Swan’s, Our stomachs for to pack. We ordered out a feat, Which indeed, We did need, And we finished it with speed, But we still felt slack. Johnny McEldoo, Turned red, white, and blue, And a plate of Irish stew, He soon, Put out o’ sight. She shouted out in core, With a roar, For some more, That he never felt before. Such a keen appetite. He ordered eggs and ham, Bread and jam, But a cram. But him we couldn’t ram, Though we tried our level best. For everything we brought, Cold or hot, Mattered not. It went down him like a shot, But he still stood the test. He swallowed tripe and lard, By the yard, We got scarred. We thought it would go hard, When the waiter brought the bill. We told him to give o’er, But he swore, He could lower, Twice as much again and more, Before he had his fill. He nearly supped the trough, Full of broth. Says McGragh, “He’ll devour the tablecloth, If you don’t hold him in.” When the waiter brought the charge, McEldoo felt so large, He began to scowl and barge, And his blood went on fire. He began to curse and swear, Tear his hair, In despair, And to finish the affair, Call the shopman a liar. The shopman he threw out, And no doubt, He did clout. McEldoo he kicked about, Like an old football. Tattered all his clothes, Broke his nose, I suppose, He’d have killed him with a few blows, In no time at all. McEldoo began to howl, And to growl, By my soul. Threw an empty bowl, At the shop keeper’s head. It struck poor Mickey Flynn, Peeled the skin, Off his chin, And the ruction did begin, And we all fought and bled. The peelers did arrive. Man alive, Four or five. At us they made a dive, For us all to march away. We paid for all the meat, That we ate, Strood a trait, And went home to ruminate, On the spree that day.
Transaction
Created
2 weeks ago
Content Type
Language
application/pdf
English
Controlling
JOHNS
JohnsonsMotorcar
lbry://@joko/JohnsonsMotorcar
For those who are using the mobile version of Odysee, and therefore can't access the pdf, here are the lyrics in plain text: Was down by Brannigan’s corner, one mornin’ I did stray. I met a fellow rebel, and to me he did say, “We have orders from our captain, to assemble at Drumbar.” “But how are we to get there without a motor car?” “Oh Barney dear, be of good cheer; I’ll tell you what we’ll do. The specials they are plentiful, but the IRA are few. We’ll send a wire to Johnson, to meet us at Stranorlar, And we give the boys a bloody good ride, in Johnson’s motor car!” When Dr. Johnson heard the news, he soon put on his shoes. He said, “This is an urgent case, there is no time to lose!” He then put on his castor hat, and on his breast a star, You could hear the din all through Glenfin of Johnson’s motor car. Ah but when he got to the railway bridge, the rebels he saw there. Ol’ Johnson knew the game was up for at him they did stare. He said, “I have a permit to travel near and far.” “To hell with your English permit, we want your motor car!” “What will my loyal brethren think when they hear the news? My car it has been commandeered by the rebels at Dunluce!” “We’ll give you a receipt for it all signed by capt. Barr, And when Ireland gets her freedom, boy, you’ll get your motor car!” Well they put that car in motion and filled it to the brim, With guns and bayonets shining, which made old Johnson grim. And Barney hoisted a Sinn Féin flag and it fluttered like a star, And we give three cheers for the IRA and Johnson’s motor car!
Transaction
Created
2 weeks ago
Content Type
Language
application/pdf
English
Controlling
THE M
TheManFromTheDailyMail
lbry://@joko/TheManFromTheDailyMail
For those who are using the mobile version of Odysee, and therefore can't access the pdf, here are the lyrics in plain text: “Oh, Ireland is a very funny place, sir. It’s a strange and a troubled land. And the Irish are a very funny race, sir. Every woman’s in Cumann na mBean. Every doggy’s got a tri-colored ribbon, Tied firmly to his tail, And it wouldn’t be surprisin’, If there’d be another risin’,” Said the man from the Daily Mail. “Oh, every bird, Upon my word’s, Singin’, ‘Yo Ho! I’m a provo!’ Every hen in jail, Is laying hand grenades, Over there, sir, I do declare, sir. And every old cock, In the farmyard stock’s, Singing triumph to Sinn Féin, And it wouldn’t be surprisin’, If there’d be another risin’,” Said the man from the Daily Mail. “Oh the other day I travelled down to Clare, sir. I spied an ol’ boreen. Such a bunch of busy gooses there, sir, Dressed in orange, white, and green. They were marching to the German goose step, And whistling Gráinne Mhaol, And every time I’d show up, They would shoot me as a yeoman,” Said the man from the Daily Mail. “Oh, every bird, Upon my word’s, Singin’, ‘Yo Ho! I’m a provo!’ Every hen in jail, Is laying hand grenades, Over there, sir, I do declare, sir. And every old cock, In the farmyard stock’s, Singing triumph to Sinn Féin, And it wouldn’t be surprisin’, If there’d be another risin’,” Said the man from the Daily Mail. “Oh the whole place is seething with sedition. It’s Sinn Féin through and through. All the boys are joining local units. And the password’s ‘Sinn Féin’ too.” Well the IRA just sent me, A time bomb in the mail, And I’m shakin’ in me shoes, As I’m typin’ up the news,” Says the man from the Daily Mail. “Oh, every bird, Upon my word’s, Singin’, ‘Yo Ho! I’m a provo!’ Every hen in jail, Is laying hand grenades, Over there, sir, I do declare, sir. And every old cock, In the farmyard stock’s, Singing triumph to Sinn Féin, And it wouldn’t be surprisin’, If there’d be another risin’,” Said the man from the Daily Mail. “Oh, every bird, Upon my word’s, Singin’, ‘Yo Ho! I’m a provo!’ Every hen in jail, Is laying hand grenades, Over there, sir, I do declare, sir. And every old cock, In the farmyard stock’s, Singing triumph to Sinn Féin, And it wouldn’t be surprisin’, If there’d be another risin’,” Said the man from the Daily Mail. “Oh, every bird, Upon my word’s, Singin’, ‘Yo Ho! I’m a provo!’ Every hen in jail, Is laying hand grenades, Over there, sir, I do declare, sir. And every old cock, In the farmyard stock’s, Singing triumph to Sinn Féin, And it wouldn’t be surprisin’, If there’d be another risin’,” Said the man from the Daily Mail.
Transaction
Created
2 weeks ago
Content Type
Language
application/pdf
English
Controlling
THE T
ThirdWestCorkBrigade
lbry://@joko/ThirdWestCorkBrigade
For those who are using the mobile version of Odysee, and therefore can't access the pdf, here are the lyrics in plain text: The Tans drove out from Passage for to shoot Mac Curtain down. They thought Sinn Féin was dead and gone in Cork’s old rebel town. But they met a rude awak’nin’ and were seriously delayed, By the fightin’ first battalion of the Third West Cork Brigade! Glory, glory to old Ireland, Glory, glory to old Ireland, Glory, glory to the boys who fought and died, In the fightin’ first battalion of the Third West Cork Brigade. We had no fancy uniforms but plenty of guns to show. We fought them up and down the line wherever they did go. But we fought for our republic, and to hell with every state! “No surrender!” was the war-cry of the Third West Cork Brigade! Glory, glory to old Ireland, Glory, glory to old Ireland, Glory, glory to the boys who fought and died, In the fightin’ first battalion of the Third West Cork Brigade. The Tans drove out from Passage well equipped with British guns. Dey had big ones by da tousands; dey had small ones by da tons. But they met a rude awak’nin’ and were seriously delayed, By the fightin’ first battalion of the Third West Cork Brigade! Glory, glory to old Ireland, Glory, glory to old Ireland, Glory, glory to the boys who fought and died, In the fightin’ first battalion of the Third West Cork Brigade. Erin go Bragh!
Transaction
Created
2 weeks ago
Content Type
Language
application/pdf
English
THE S
SamSong
lbry://@joko/SamSong
For those who are using the mobile version of Odysee, and therefore can't access the pdf, here are the lyrics in plain text: Well I have been a provo for fifteen years or more. Of Armalites and mortar bomb, I thought I knew the score. But now we have a weapon we’ve never used before. The Brits are looking worried and they’re going to worry more! Tiocfaidh ár lá! Sing up the ’RA! Sam missiles in the sky. Well I started out with petrol bombs and throwing bricks and stones. With a hundred more lads like me, I never was alone. But soon I’d learn that bricks and stones wouldn’t drive the Brits away. It wasn’t very long before—Who did I join?—I joined the IRA! Tiocfaidh ár lá! Sing up the ’RA! Sam missiles in the sky. The I– The I– The I-R-A! The I– The I– The I-R-A! Tiocfaidh ár lá! Sing up the ’RA! Sam missiles in the sky. And then there came internment in the year of ’71. The Brits thought we were beaten, but we were on the run. And then early on this morning, they kicked in our back door. For every man they took away—How many did they miss?—they missed a hundred more! Tiocfaidh ár lá! Sing up the ’RA! Sam missiles in the sky. Well I spent eight years in the cages. I had time to think and plan. For though they locked away a boy, I walked out a man. There’s only one thing that I learned while in the cell I lay: The Brits will never leave us—Until when?—until they’re blown away! Tiocfaidh ár lá! Sing up the ’RA! Sam missiles in the sky. The I– The I– The I-R-A! The I– The I– The I-R-A! Tiocfaidh ár lá! Sing up the ’RA! Sam missiles in the sky. And all through the days of hunger strike, I watched my comrades die. But in the streets of Belfast, can hear the women cry. I can’t forget the massacre that Friday at Loughgall. Salute my fallen comrades as I watch the choppers fall. Tiocfaidh ár lá! Sing up the ’RA! Sam missiles in the sky. Tiocfaidh ár lá! Sing up the ’RA! Sam missiles in the sky.
Transaction
Created
2 weeks ago
Content Type
Language
application/pdf
English
THE R
RisingOfTheMoon
lbry://@joko/RisingOfTheMoon
This is the version of the song from their album "Irish songs of rebellion." For those who are using the mobile version of Odysee, and therefore can't access the pdf, here are the lyrics in plain text: “Oh then tell me Sean O’Farrell, tell me why you hurry so.” “Hush me buachaill, hush and listen,” and his cheeks were all aglow. “I bear orders from the captain, get you ready quick and soon, For the pikes must be together, by the risin’ of the moon.” By the risin’ of the moon, By the risin’ of the moon, For the pikes must be together, By the risin’ of the moon. “Oh then tell me Sean O’Farrell where the gatherin’ is to be.” “In the old spot by the river, right well known to you and me. One word more for signal token. Whistle up the marchin’ tune. With your pike upon your shoulder at the risin’ of the moon.” By the risin’ of the moon, By the risin’ of the moon, For the pikes must be together, By the risin’ of the moon. Out of many a mud-wall cabin, eyes were watchin’ through the night. Many a manly heart was throbbin’ for the common mornin’ light. Murmurs ran along the valleys like the banshee’s lonely croon, And a thousand pikes were flashin’ by the risin’ of the moon. By the risin’ of the moon, By the risin’ of the moon, And a thousand pikes were flashin’, By the risin’ of the moon. There beside the singin’ river, that dark mass o’ men was seen. Far above their shining weapons hung their own beloved green. Death to every foe and traitor, forward strike the marchin’ tune, And hurrah, me boys, for freedom! ’Tis the risin’ of the moon.
Transaction
Created
2 weeks ago
Content Type
Language
application/pdf
English
Controlling
GALWA
GalwayBay
lbry://@joko/GalwayBay
For those who are using the mobile version of Odysee, and therefore can't access the pdf, here are the lyrics in plain text: Maybe someday I'll go back again to Ireland, If my dear old wife would only pass away. She nearly has my heart broke with her naggin'. She's got a mouth as big as Galway Bay. See her drinkin' sixteen pints of Pabst Blue Ribbon (commercial!), And then she can walk home without a sway. If the sea was beer instead of salty water, She would live and die in Galway Bay. See her drinkin' sixteen pints at Pat Joe Murphy's. The barman says, "I think it's time to go." But she doesn't try to speak to him in Gaelic, In a language that the clergy do not know. On her back she has tattooed a map of Ireland, And when she takes her bath on Saturday, She rubs the sunlight soap around by Claddagh, Just to watch the suds float on by Galway Bay!
Transaction
Created
2 weeks ago
Content Type
Language
application/pdf
English
Controlling
CHARL
1888-encyclopedia-britannica-vaccination-creighton
lbry://@joko/1888-encyclopedia-britannica-vaccination-creighton
In this document, I've copied Charles Creighton's article on vaccination that he wrote for the 1888 edition of Encyclopedia Britannica. This was published the year before his book Jenner and Vaccination: A Strange Chapter of Medical History. Creighton was a respected physician (otherwise he wouldn't have been invited to write the article for the prestigious encyclopedia). Not wanting to parrot the dogmas of the day, Creighton decided to actually look into the evidence in favor of vaccination and to look into the history of the practice. To his shock, he discovered that Edward Jenner was a con artist and that all available evidence cut against the hypothesis that cowpoxing could protect against smallpox. Jenner never actually gave adequate evidence that his technique worked and the cases of smallpox did not decrease following the implementation of a vaccine mandate in Britain. The medico-pharmaceutical sector, obviously having a special interest in promoting the efficacy of vaccines whether there's evidence or not, were understandably not happy, and the profession was generally outraged with Creighton after he wrote this article. On the final page of this document, I've given a link to the original document I copied this text from in case anyone wants to check the original for himself.
Transaction
Created
2 weeks ago
Content Type
Language
application/pdf
English
Controlling
ROCKY
RockyRoadToDublin
lbry://@joko/RockyRoadToDublin
For those who are using the mobile version of Odysee, and therefore can't access the pdf, here are the lyrics in plain text: Well in the merry month of May, Now from me home I started. Left the girls of Tuam, Nearly broken hearted, Saluted father dear, Kissed me darlin mother, Drank a pint of beer, Me grief and tears to smother. Then off to reap the corn, And leave where I was born. Cut a stout black thorn, To banish ghosts and goblins. A brand new pair of brogues, To rattle over the bogs, And fright’n all the dogs, On the rocky road to Dublin. One, two, three, four five, Hunt da hare and turn her down the rocky road, Then all the ways to Dublin. Whack fallal di da. In Mullingar that night, I rested limbs so weary. Started by daylight, Next morning light and airy. Took a drop of the pure, To keep me heart from shinkin’. That’s the Paddy’s cure, Whene’er he’s on for drinkin’. To hear the lassies smile, Laughin’ all the while, At me curious style, T’would set yer heart a bubblin’. He asked me was I hired, and wages I required, Till I was almost tired, Of the rocky road to Dublin. One, two, three, four five, Hunt da hare and turn her down the rocky road, Then all the ways to Dublin. Whack fallal di da. In Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pitty, To be so soon deprived, Of view of that fine city. Then I took a stroll. All among the quality, Bundle it was stolen, In a neat locality. Something crossed me mind, When I looked behind, No bundle could I find, Upon me stick a wobblin’. Inquirin’ after the rogue, Said me Connacht brogue, It wasn’t much in vogue, On the rocky road to Dublin. One, two, three, four five, Hunt da hare and turn her down the rocky road, Then all the ways to Dublin. Whack fallal di da. From there I got away, Me spirits never failing, Landed on the quay, Just as the ship was sailing. Captain at me roared. Said that no room had he, When I jumped aboard. A cabin found for Paddy, Down among the pigs. Did some hearty rigs, And played some hearty jigs, The water ’round me bubblin’. When off Holyhead, I wished meself was dead, Or better far instead, On the rocky road to Dublin. One, two, three, four five, Hunt da hare and turn her down the rocky road, Then all the ways to Dublin. Whack fallal di da. The boys of liver pool, When we safely landed, Called meself the fool, I could no longer stand it. Blood began to boil. Temper I was losin’. Poor old Erin’s Isle, They began abusin’. “Hurrah! Me soul!” says I. Shillelagh I let fly. Galway boys were by, And saw I was a hobblin’, With a loud “Hurray!” They join in the affray. Quickly clear the way, For the rocky road to Dublin. One, two, three, four five, Hunt da hare and turn her down the rocky road, Then all the ways to Dublin. Whack fallal di da.
Transaction
Created
2 weeks ago
Content Type
Language
application/pdf
English