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Sockburn
Coordinates: 54°27′42″N 1°27′50″W / 54.46173°N 1.46397°W / 54.46173; -1.46397
Sockburn is a village and civil parish to the south of Darlington in County Durham, England. It is situated at the apex of a meander of the River Tees, known locally as the Sockburn Peninsula. Today, all that remains of the village is an early nineteenth-century mansion, a ruined church and a farmhouse built in the late eighteenth century.
Sockburn was once a larger parish. The ancient parish included the townships of Sockburn in County Durham, and Girsby and Over Dinsdale, both on the opposite bank of the River Tees in the North Riding of Yorkshire. In 1866 Girsby and Over Dinsdale became separate civil parishes. By 1961 the parish had a population of only 32. At the 2011 Census the population of the civil Parish remained less than 100. Details could be found in the parish of Neasham.
In antiquity, Higbald, Bishop of Lindisfarne was crowned at Sockburn in 780 or 781 and Eanbald, Archbishop of York, in 796.
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by Dubliners
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by Currensy
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by Auburn
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by Bardic
Skibbereen
by: DublinersOh father dear, I oft-times hear you speak of Erin's
isle
Her lofty hills, her valleys green, her mountains rude
and wild
They say she is a lovely land wherein a saint might
dwell
So why did you abandon her, the reason to me tell.
Oh son, I loved my native land with energy and pride
Till a blight came o'er the praties; my sheep, my
cattle died
My rent and taxes went unpaid, I could not them redeem
And that's the cruel reason why I left old Skibbereen.
Oh well do I remember that bleak December day
The landlord and the sheriff came to take us all away
They set my roof on fire with their cursed English
spleen
I heaved a sigh and bade goodbye to dear old
Skibbereen.
Your mother too, God rest her soul, fell on the stony
ground
She fainted in her anguish seeing desolation 'round
She never rose but passed away from life to immortal
dream
She found a quiet grave, me boy, in dear old
Skibbereen.
And you were only two years old and feeble was your
frame
I could not leave you with my friends for you bore your
father's name
I wrapped you in my car in the dead of night unseen
I heaved a sigh and bade goodbye to dear old
Skibbereen.
Oh father dear, the day will come when in answer to the
call
All Irish men of freedom stern will rally one and all
I'll be the man to lead the band beneath the flag of
green
And loud and clear we'll raise the cheer, Revenge for