Puirt à beul (pronounced [pʰurˠʃtʲ a pialˠ̪], literally "tunes from a mouth") is a traditional form of song native to Scotland, Ireland, and Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia.
The Scottish Gaelic for such a tune is port à beul: "a tune from a mouth—specifically a cheerful tune—which in the plural becomes puirt à beul". In mainland Britain they are usually referred to as puirt à beul but a variety of other spellings and misspellings also exist, for example port-a-beul, puirt a bheul, puirt a' bhéil, etc. These are mostly because a number of grammatical particles in Gaelic are very similar in nature, such as the definite article a', the prepositions "of" and to" which can both be a and the preposition á "from" which can appear without the acute accent.
Modern Irish dictionaries give port (aireacht) béil, translated as "mouth music" also referred to as lilting. Older dictionaries, such as Dinneen, only give portaiḋeaċt, portaireaċt, or portonaċt.
Puirt à beul has sometimes been used for dancing when no instruments were available. Although some people believe that puirt à beul derives from a time when musical instruments—in particular bagpipes—were unavailable because they were banned, there is no evidence that musical instruments were banned by the Disarming Acts or the Act of Proscription 1746. In his book Traditional Gaelic Bagpiping 1745-1945, John Gibson reprints the entire Disarming Act of 1746 (which is the act usually blamed for the proscription of bagpipes), and shows that bagpipes were not banned. This in and of itself does not clarify whether or not musical instruments were taken away from the people.
She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette
She broke his heart, he spent his whole life tryin' to forget
We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time
But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind
Until' the night
He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away her memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees
We found him with his face down in the pillow
With a note that said, "I'll love her till I die"
And when we buried him beneath the willow
The Angels sang a whiskey lullaby
La la la la la la la, la la la la la la laa
La la la la la la la, la la la la la la laa
The rumors flew but nobody knew how much she blamed herself
For years and years, she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath
She finally drank her pain away a little at a time
But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind
Until' the night
She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away his memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees
We found her with her face down in the pillow
Clinging to his picture for dear life
We laid her next to him beneath the willow
While the Angels sang a whiskey lullaby
La la la la la la la, la la la la la la laa
La la la la la la la, la la la la la la laa
La la la la la la la, la la la la la la laa
La la la la la la la, la la la la la la laa