In the late 19th century, many Irishmen and women emigrated to the United States. Much later, my father would do the same. Many came to Lake county, Oregon. Phillip, Mike, William and James Barry arrived in 1877 from Rockchapel. These men where responsible for bringing most of the Original Irish immigrants to Lake county from Duhallow. Today the county has the largest percentage of people claiming Irish background in Oregon.
Many of those who arrived in the early days were sheepherders, although this industry was soon supplanted by cattle.
This poem was written by Jerry C. Murphy, who is listed in the 1910 census as being in Paisley. Please let me know if you have any further information about him.
The tune is called Lord Mayo and I arranged the whole thing myself.
My heart throbs quite merrily
My mind from care is free
As here beneath the pines I sleep
Where trouble ne'er can see
I have no home to call my own
To find one I won't try
I sleep beside the sheep at night
A lonely shepherd boy
From the desert in the springtime
I trailed o'er rock and plain
And long to see the springs and trees
of the mountains once again
In Harney I passed last Winter's frost
And thought o days gone by
I eat and sleep beside the sheep
A lonely shepherd boy
Some people say the shepherd boy
is liable to go mad
But peace of mind he'll always find
What the rich man never had
I wouldn't trade with the millionaire
Who rides the airships high
I'd rather take a smaller stake
As a lonely shepherd boy
By Dog Mountain Springs and lonely glens
long mornings did I roam
And by that lake where I'd like to make
Some future day my home
From there to stay 'til some bright day
To eternity I'll fly
Where lord and squire will be no higher
Than a lonely shepherd boy
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Spancil Hill
Spancil Hill was originally called Cnoc Fuar Choile (hill of the cold wood), a name that was somehow anglicised to Spancil Hill.
The word "spancil" means to tie an animal's left front leg to its right hind leg in order to keep it from wandering too far.
The famous Spancil Hill fair usually took place on the 23rd of June, although in the song it would have started a day late for falling on the Sabbath. People came from all over Europe to buy horses at the fair.
The author of the song, Michael Considine, was born around 1850 and emigrated to the United States around 1870.
Michael went to the states with the intention of bringing his sweetheart over and for them to be married, but he never saved enough money for her passage. She was his childhood sweetheart, Mary MacNamara.
Michael worked in Boston for two years or so before moving to California. He suffered from ill health for a long time. Knowing he hadn't long to live, he wrote the poem "Spancil Hill" to send home in rememberence of his love. He sent the poem to his nephew John.
Michael Considine died sometime in 1873. Some sources say he was buried in Spancil Hill, but others say he was buried in California. Mary MacNamara remained faithful to his memory and never married.
The word "spancil" means to tie an animal's left front leg to its right hind leg in order to keep it from wandering too far.
The famous Spancil Hill fair usually took place on the 23rd of June, although in the song it would have started a day late for falling on the Sabbath. People came from all over Europe to buy horses at the fair.
The author of the song, Michael Considine, was born around 1850 and emigrated to the United States around 1870.
Michael went to the states with the intention of bringing his sweetheart over and for them to be married, but he never saved enough money for her passage. She was his childhood sweetheart, Mary MacNamara.
Michael worked in Boston for two years or so before moving to California. He suffered from ill health for a long time. Knowing he hadn't long to live, he wrote the poem "Spancil Hill" to send home in rememberence of his love. He sent the poem to his nephew John.
Michael Considine died sometime in 1873. Some sources say he was buried in Spancil Hill, but others say he was buried in California. Mary MacNamara remained faithful to his memory and never married.
On Raglan Road
First published as a poem by Peter Kavanagh in the Irish Press on October 3rd, 1946 under the title "Dark Haired Miriam Ran Away." The poem was about Peter's girlfriend but he used his brother's girlfriend's name to avoid embarrassment. Kavanagh met Luke Kelly of the Dubliners and they put it to the tune of an Irish song called called Fáinne Geal an Lae (The Dawning of the Day), lyrics as follows:
The air was composed by Thomas Connellan in the 17th century.
- Maidin moch do ghabhas amach,
- Ar bruach Locha Léin;
- An Samhradh teacht's an chraobh len'ais,
- Is ionrach te ón ngréin,
- Ar thaisteal dom trí bhailte
- poirt is bánta mine réidhe,
- Cé a gheobhainn le máis ach an chúileann deas,
- Le fáinne geal an lae.
- Ní raibh bróg ná stoca, caidhp ná clóc;
- Ar mo stóirin óg ón spéir,
- Ach folt fionn órga sios go troigh,
- Ag fás go barr an théir.
- Bhí calán crúite aici ina glaic,
- 'S ar dhrúcht ba dheas a scéimh,
- Do rug barr gean ar Bhéineas deas,
- Le fáinne geal an lae.
- Do shuigh an bhrideog sios le m'ais,
- Ar bhrinse glas den fhéar,
- Ag magadh léi bhios dá maiomh go pras,
- Mar mhnaoi nach scarfainn léi.
- 'S é dúirt í liomsa, "imigh uaim,
- Is scaoil ar siúl mé a réic",
- Sin iad aneas na soilse ag teacht,
- Le fáinne geal an lae.
- English:
- One morning early I went out
- On the shore of Lough Leinn
- The leafy trees of summertime,
- And the warm rays of the sun,
- As I wandered through the townlands,
- And the luscious grassy plains,
- Who should I meet but a beautiful maid,
- At the dawning of the day.
- No cap or cloak this maiden wore
- Her neck and feet were bare
- Down to the grass in ringlets fell
- Her glossy golden hair
- A milking pail was in her hand
- She was lovely, young and gay
- Her beauty excelled even Helen of Troy (lit. Venus)
- At the dawning of the day.
- On a mossy bank I sat me down
- With the maiden by my side
- With gentle words I courted her
- And asked her to be my bride
- She turned and said, "Please go away,"
- Then went on down the way
- And the morning light was shining bright
- At the dawning of the day.
The air was composed by Thomas Connellan in the 17th century.
On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way,
And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.
On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion's pledge,
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay -
O I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away.
I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that's known
To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint. I did not stint for I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay -
When the angel woos the clay he'd lose his wings at the dawn of day.
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way,
And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.
On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion's pledge,
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay -
O I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away.
I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that's known
To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint. I did not stint for I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay -
When the angel woos the clay he'd lose his wings at the dawn of day.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Songs that were poems
The next few videos I post will be songs that started out as poems. Don't forget to "like" me on Facebook so that you can get all of the updates on shows, etc.
Come Out Ye Black and Tans
This is one of the first Irish songs I started singing and it's an audience favourite.
In January 1920, the British government put out an advertisement for men willing to "face a rough and dangerous task" as a supplementary force to the Royal Irish Constabulary. By November 1921 around 9,500 men, mostly former prisoners, had joined. Due to a shortage of uniforms, the new recruits were issued khaki army trousers and dark green or blue surplus tunics, caps and belts. This is where the name Black and Tan comes from (a reference to the Scarteen hunt), and their purpose was to quell an increasingly rebellious Irish Republican Army; indeed the Irish nationalist movement had gained widespread support after the execution of the leaders of the 1916 Easter uprising.
However, the Black and Tans were as brutal to civilians as they were to the IRA. It is unclear whether their numerous atrocities were sanctioned by the British government; the British Labour Commission stated that the government was unable to dominate the forces it had released upon Ireland.
If you're interested in this period in Irish history, a good film is The Wind that Shakes the Barley
. It's very recent and accurate in its depiction of the Black and Tans and the ensuing Irish Civil War.
The song itself has many sets of lyrics; the ones here were written by Dominic Behan, son of Stephen Behan. Later on I'll sing more of his songs as they have become very well known.
I was born on a Dublin street where the royal drums did beat
And the loving English feet walked all over us,
And every single night when me father'd come home tight
He'd invite the neighbors outside with this chorus:
Oh, come out you black and tans,
Come out and fight me like a man
Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders (Many were WWI veterans)
Tell her how the IRA made you run like hell away,
From the green and lovely lanes in Killeshandra
Come tell us how you slew
Them ol' Arabs two by two (In the 1920 Great Iraqi Revolution)
Like the Zulus they had spears and bows and arrows, (Anglo-Zulu War of 1879)
How you bravely faced each one
With your sixteen-pounder gun
And you frightened them poor natives to their marrow.
Come let us hear you tell
How you slandered great Parnell (Charles Stewart Parnell was an important Irish nationalist and politician of the 19th century; he had lived with Mrs. Kitty O'Shea and fathered three of her children while she was still married- it was one of the largest scandals of 19th century Ireland and Britain)
When you thought him well and truly persecuted,
Where are the sneers and jeers
That you bravely let us hear
When our heroes of sixteen were executed. (Most of the leaders and some participants of the Easter uprising in 1916 were executed by firing squad, including James Connolly, who had to be tied to a chair due to a shattered ankle; their execution helped turn public opinion to Sinn Féin)
The day is coming fast
And the time is here at last,
When each shoneen will be cast aside before us, (Shoneen means a person who prefers English customs over the Irish- it's possibly a diminutive of "Séan," Irish for John, referring to John Bull [England]).
And if there be a need
Sure my kids will sing, "Godspeed!"
With a bar or two of Stephen Behan's chorus
In January 1920, the British government put out an advertisement for men willing to "face a rough and dangerous task" as a supplementary force to the Royal Irish Constabulary. By November 1921 around 9,500 men, mostly former prisoners, had joined. Due to a shortage of uniforms, the new recruits were issued khaki army trousers and dark green or blue surplus tunics, caps and belts. This is where the name Black and Tan comes from (a reference to the Scarteen hunt), and their purpose was to quell an increasingly rebellious Irish Republican Army; indeed the Irish nationalist movement had gained widespread support after the execution of the leaders of the 1916 Easter uprising.
However, the Black and Tans were as brutal to civilians as they were to the IRA. It is unclear whether their numerous atrocities were sanctioned by the British government; the British Labour Commission stated that the government was unable to dominate the forces it had released upon Ireland.
If you're interested in this period in Irish history, a good film is The Wind that Shakes the Barley
. It's very recent and accurate in its depiction of the Black and Tans and the ensuing Irish Civil War.The song itself has many sets of lyrics; the ones here were written by Dominic Behan, son of Stephen Behan. Later on I'll sing more of his songs as they have become very well known.
I was born on a Dublin street where the royal drums did beat
And the loving English feet walked all over us,
And every single night when me father'd come home tight
He'd invite the neighbors outside with this chorus:
Oh, come out you black and tans,
Come out and fight me like a man
Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders (Many were WWI veterans)
Tell her how the IRA made you run like hell away,
From the green and lovely lanes in Killeshandra
Come tell us how you slew
Them ol' Arabs two by two (In the 1920 Great Iraqi Revolution)
Like the Zulus they had spears and bows and arrows, (Anglo-Zulu War of 1879)
How you bravely faced each one
With your sixteen-pounder gun
And you frightened them poor natives to their marrow.
Come let us hear you tell
How you slandered great Parnell (Charles Stewart Parnell was an important Irish nationalist and politician of the 19th century; he had lived with Mrs. Kitty O'Shea and fathered three of her children while she was still married- it was one of the largest scandals of 19th century Ireland and Britain)
When you thought him well and truly persecuted,
Where are the sneers and jeers
That you bravely let us hear
When our heroes of sixteen were executed. (Most of the leaders and some participants of the Easter uprising in 1916 were executed by firing squad, including James Connolly, who had to be tied to a chair due to a shattered ankle; their execution helped turn public opinion to Sinn Féin)
The day is coming fast
And the time is here at last,
When each shoneen will be cast aside before us, (Shoneen means a person who prefers English customs over the Irish- it's possibly a diminutive of "Séan," Irish for John, referring to John Bull [England]).
And if there be a need
Sure my kids will sing, "Godspeed!"
With a bar or two of Stephen Behan's chorus
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Billy Reid
William "Billy" Reid (1 January 1939 -- 15 May 1971) was a member (volunteer) of C Company, Third Battalion in the Belfast Brigade of the Provisional Irish Republican Army. On 15 May 1971 a foot patrol of the British army was ambushed in Academy Street in the centre of Belfast by the Third Battalion Belfast Brigade. Billy Reid, aged 32, was killed in the ensuing gunfight. Reid was responsible for the death of the first British soldier killed in the Troubles.
I'm always careful about who I sing these kinds of songs around; even in America there are many who hold very strong ideas about what happened during the troubles (on both sides). Some are well-versed in the history and others know little to nothing. Many more know the history all too well and are loathe to hear any mention of it.
But regardless of the context of these songs, it is important to preserve them; it is the oral history and it is as objective as every other history. Or you might just say that a man who is not remembered in his death has certainly never lived; and so it is up to us to sing his song.
I'm always careful about who I sing these kinds of songs around; even in America there are many who hold very strong ideas about what happened during the troubles (on both sides). Some are well-versed in the history and others know little to nothing. Many more know the history all too well and are loathe to hear any mention of it.
But regardless of the context of these songs, it is important to preserve them; it is the oral history and it is as objective as every other history. Or you might just say that a man who is not remembered in his death has certainly never lived; and so it is up to us to sing his song.
I'll sing you a song of a terrible wrong,
When the flags they flew at half-mast
And a man he lay dead, he'd been riddled with lead
He died on the streets of Belfast
Oh, the radio said, "There's another shot dead,
And he died with a gun in his hand."
But they didn't why Billy Reid had to die
He died to free Ireland
It happened one day when the bold IRA
Went out to fight for their land
With an old Thompson gun, they'd the troops on the run
And returning to home was their plan
When returning the gun, Billy met British Huns
And when the fight had begun
His position was dire and his gun wouldn't fire
And he died with the old Thompson Gun
Although he lay dead, he was kicked in the head
By the hair they dragged him around
They still fear him yet, and they'll never forget
How brave Billy Reid stood his ground
If you think he was right, come and join in the fight
And help to free Belfast
For the blood that he shed, and although he lay dead
In our minds his memory will last
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Far Away in Australia
This is a song of uncertain origins (if anyone has more background on it please let me know). During the 18th century and continuing through the 20th, millions of Irish men and women emigrated all over the world. Many went to Australia; the narrator in the song has gone voluntarily to build a new home and life. Many more were forcibly exiled.
Sweetheart I'm bidding you fond farewell
I will be yours someday
I'm bound for a new land, my fortune to try
And I'm ready to sail away
Far away in Australia
Soon will fate be kind
And I will be ready to welcome at last
The girl I left behind
"Oh, you can't leave me," this poor maid said
"I will not let you go"
"But I must leave you," he gently replied
"If only for a while, you know"
"Now in success or in failure
I will always be true,
And proudly each day in the land far away
I'll be building a home for you."
Daily she waits at the old cottage gate
Watching the whole day through
Then one day a message from over the sea
And I'm hoping these words are true
Far away in Australia
Now has come the time
When I am ready to welcome at last
The girl I left behind
Sweetheart I'm bidding you fond farewell
I will be yours someday
I'm bound for a new land, my fortune to try
And I'm ready to sail away
Far away in Australia
Soon will fate be kind
And I will be ready to welcome at last
The girl I left behind
"Oh, you can't leave me," this poor maid said
"I will not let you go"
"But I must leave you," he gently replied
"If only for a while, you know"
"Now in success or in failure
I will always be true,
And proudly each day in the land far away
I'll be building a home for you."
Daily she waits at the old cottage gate
Watching the whole day through
Then one day a message from over the sea
And I'm hoping these words are true
Far away in Australia
Now has come the time
When I am ready to welcome at last
The girl I left behind
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