Fellow pipers,
I am looking for notation for the air (not the reel) of Molly Ban as recorded by The Chieftains and Allison Krauss on “Down the Old Plank Road” CD.
I would prefer it in G or D. ABC files are fine.
Yeah, I know I could learn it by ear, but it is easier this way mostly because of my poor transposing skills.
Any help appreciated.
Cheers! Richard
Do ye mean Molly Bawn? Mailí Bhán AKA Lough Sheeling
Then look at this
LOUGH SHEELING [2] (Loc Saileann). AKA and see “Adieu My Loved Harp,” “Come Rest in This Bosom,” “Bridget O’Malley.” Irish, Slow Air (3/4 time). E Minor. Standard. AB. This air is an old harp melody used by Thomas Moore for his song “Come Rest in this Bosom.” O’Neill (Music of Ireland: 1850 Melodies), 1903/1979; No. 333, pg. 58.
X:1
T:Lough Sheeling [2]
M:3/4
L:1/8
R:Air
N:”Slow”
S:O’Neill – Music of Ireland (1903), No. 333
Z:AK/Fiddler’s Companion
K:E Minor
B>^d|e2 e>f ge|d2B2 GA/B/|c2c2 BA|{A}B2 z2 B^d|e2 ef ge|d2B2G2|
A3 GE^D|E3 z||BA|G2 GA BG|{B}A2G2 GA/B/|c2c2 BA|B2 z2 B^d|
e3 fge|d2B2G2|A3 GE^D|(E2 D)z||
MOLLY BAWN [1]. AKA and see “Come, Rest on This Bosom,” “The Fowler,” “Lough Sheeling.” Irish, Air (3/4 time). D Minor (Joyce): A Minor (Heymann). Standard tuning. One part. This once-popular song (of the ‘come-all-ye’ genre, also called “The Fowler”) appears on numerous broadside sheets in many different forms. The title “Molly Bawn” is an Englished corruption of the Gaelic “Mailí Bhán,” or Fair Mary (Fairhaired Mary, White Haired Mary). Collector Edward Bunting printed the piece three times in his manuscripts, each time noting it was traditionally the first piece learned by beginning harpers. Many songs have been composed to the tune, most of which tell of the accidental shooting death of Molly by her lover, who while hunting mistakes the white clothing she has worn for a swan. Joyce (1909) remarks: "In the last century this song was very popular in the midland and southern counties. I once heard it sung in fine style in the streets of Dublin by a poor woman with a child on her arm. Like several other ballads in this book, it obviously commemorates a tragedy in real life. It has been published by Patrick Kennedy in The Banks of the Boro but his copy is somewhat different from mine; and by ‘Dun‑Cathail’ in Popular Poetry of Ireland; but this last shows evident marks of literary alterations and additions not tending to improvement. My version is just as I learned it from the intelligent singers of my early days. The air is the same as “Lough Sheeling’ of Moore’s song, ‘Come, rest on this bosom!’ but a different version.” Words to the ballad begin:
Come all you young fellows that follow the gun,
Beware of going shooting by the late setting sun;
It might happen to anyone as it happened to me,
To shoot your own true love in under a tree. (John Loesberg, Folksongs and Ballads Popular in Ireland, vol. 1, 1979).
Source for notated version: Bunting’s manuscript. Heymann (Secrets of the Gaelic Harp), 1988; pg. 52. Joyce (Old Irish Folk Music and Song), 1909; No. 409
Bit of a dirge methinks.A more appropriate title would be" Oops my bad !"given the nature of the song 
Molly Bawn
o come all you young fowlers that handle the gun
Beware of late shooting at the setting of the sun.
Have you heard of this sad story that has happened of late
To Molly Bawn Clements whose beauty been great.
She been coming from her uncle’s in a sharp shower of hail,
And under a green bush herself did conceal.
Her true lover been a-fowling, he mistook her as a swan,
And it was to his misfortune that he shot Molly Bawn.
o it’s when he came up to her and it’s her he did see,
His limbs they grew weak and his eyes could not see
As he rubbed her fair temples and found she was dead.
Then a welting of tears for his true love he shed.
Then it’s home to his old father he quicklie did run
With his gun on his shoulder and he scarcely able to speak
Sayin’ "Father, dearest father, do you know what I have done?
I have shot lovelie Molly at the setting of the sun.
Her white apron it being around her, I mistook her as a swan,
And it’s to my sad misfortune that I shot Molly Bawn." o up speaks his old father whose locks they were grey, Saying, “I beg of you, my dear son, do not run away, But stay in your own country till the trial it does come on And you ne’er shall be hanged by the laws of our land.”
O the night before the trial to her uncle she appeared,
Saying, “Uncle, dearest uncle, do not hang my dear,
My white apron it being around me, he mistook me as a swan,
And it’s to his great misfortune that he shot Molly Bawn.”
o it’s Molly, lovelie Molly, you’re my joy and hearts delight
And if you were living, we’d be wedded this night,
I would roll you in my arms, acushla graile machree,
But it’s to my sad misfortune it was Molly I seen.
Why Should ye learn it by ear?Especially if ye are deaf??? 
Uilliam
or…Adieu my lov’d harp
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=96fecgzdyDk
Adieu my lov’d harp, for no more shall the vale,
Re-echo thy notes as they float on the gale;
No more melting pity shall sigh o’er thy String;
Or love to thy tremblings so tenderly sing.
When battle’s fell strife launch’d its thunders afar,
And valour’s dark brow wore the honours of war;
'Twas thou breath’d the fame of the hero around,
And young emulation was wak’d by the sound.
Ye daughters of Erin soon comes the sad day,
When over the turf where I sleep ye shall say:
"Oh! Still is the song we repaid with a tear,
And silent the string that delighted the ear.
or…
Come, Rest In This Bosom
http://10thhousepress.com/ComeRest.mp3
Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer,
Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here:
Here still is the smile that no cloud can o’ercast,
And the heart and the hand all thy own to the last.
Oh! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same
Through joy and through torments, through glory and shame!
I knew not, I ask not if guilt’s in that heart,
I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art!
Thou hast call’d me thy angel, in moments of bliss, –
Sill thy Angel I’ll be, 'mid the horrors of this, –
Through the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps to pursue,
And shield thee, and save thee, or perish there too!
or…
Bridget O’Malley
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=weifZh8Ig6s
Oh Bridget O’Malley
You left my heart shaken
With a hopeless desolation
I’d have you to know
It’s the wonders of admiration
Your quiet face has taken
And your beauty will haunt me
Wherever I go
The white moon above the pale sands
The pale stars above the thorn tree
Are cold beside my darling
But no purer than she
I gaze upon the cold moon
Till the stars drown in the warm sea
And the bright eyes of my darling
Are never on me
My Sunday is weary
My Sunday it is grey now
My heart is a cold thing
My heart is a stone
All joy is dead in me
My life has gone away now
Another has taken my love
For his own
The day it is approaching
When we were to be married
And it’s rather I would die
Than live only to grieve
Oh meet me, my Darling
E’er the sun sets o’er the barley
And I’ll meet you there
On the road to Drumslieve
Bridget O’Malley
You have my heart shaken
With a hopeless desolation
I’d have you to know
It’s the wonders of admiration
Your quiet face has taken
And your beauty will haunt me
Wherever I go
uilliam
Thanks Uilliam, that is exactly what I needed.
The one that Allison Krauss sings so lovely.
It is a dirge, but a beautiful one.
Cheers! Richard