The Bells of Dublin

• Paddy Moloney: uilleann pipes and tin whistle
• Martin Fay: fiddle
• Seán Keane: fiddle
• Derek Bell: harpsichord and tiompaán
• Kevin Conneff: bodhrán and vocals
• Matt Molloy: flute
  &
  

  The Renaissance Singers, Choir Master Ronnie Lee: vocals Kate & Anna McGarrigle: vocals Burgess Meredith: narration Marianne Faithful: vocals Nowlen Monjarret: vocals

  The Voice Squad (Phil Callery, Fran McPhail, & Gerry Cullen): vocals Nanci Griffith: vocals Jackson Browne: vocals Rickie Lee Jones: vocals Suzi Katayama: cello Kathyrn Tickell: northumbrian pipes

  
  The Tracks:
  

  1. The Bells of Dublin Christmas Eve 3:04 2. Past Three O'Clock 2:08 3. St. Stephen's Day Murders 3:22 4. Il Est Né/Ca Berger 5:10 5. Don Oiche Ud I mBeithil 3:42 6. I Saw Three Ships A Sailing 2:45 7. A Breton Carol 3:43 Carol Medley 8. O The Holly She Bears A Berry 1:57 9. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen 1:23 10. The Boars's Head 1:59 11. The Wexford Carol 3:22 12. The Rebel Jesus 3:45

  13. Skyline Jig 1:55 14. O Holy Night 4:19 Medley: "The Wren! The Wren!" 15. The Arrival of the Wren Boys 1:00 16. The Dingle Set 2:27 17. The Wren In The Furze 2:15 18. A Dance Duet 2:30 19. Brafferton Village/Walsh's Hornpipe 1:24 20. The Farewell: The Piper Through The Meadow Strayed This Is The Season To Be Merry 2:07 21. Medley: Once in Royal David's City 2:27 22. Ding Dong Merrily On High 2:27 23. O Come All Ye Faithful 3:25

  Following are the words for St. Stephen's Day Murders

  And you have two sisters who's name it was Christmas, and one was named Dawn of course the other one was named Eve. I wonder if they grew up hating the season, the goodwill that lasts till the Feast of St. Stephen. For that is the time to eat, drink and be merry, till the beer is all spilled and the whisky has flowed, and the whole family tree you neglected to bury, are feeding their faces until they explode. They'll be laughter and tears over tea and the beers mixed up with that drink made from Gurdis, cause it's all we got left as they draw their last breath, and it's nice for the kids, as you finally get rid of them, in the St. Stephen's Day murders!

  Uncle is gargling a heart breaking air, while the babe in his arms pulls out all that remains of his hair, and were not drunk enough yet to dare criticize the great big hippertie he's about to baptize. With his gin flavoured whispers and kisses of sherry his best kringeled shirt slung out over the shot while the lights from the Christmas tree blow up the tele, his face closes in like an old cold pork chop, and the carcass of the beast left over from the feast may still be found haunt in the kitchen, and their life in it yet we may live to regret when the ones that we poisoned stop twitching. They'll be laughter and tears over tea and the beers mixed up with that drink made from Gurdis, cause it's all we got left as they draw their last breath, and it's nice for the kids, as you finally get rid of them, RID OF THEM!, in the St. Stephen's Day murders!