Tonight's bit of work
Shaddow and Briar are in the pub having a lesson, so I've been working on this:
After Aughrim’s Great Disaster
John Dwyer of the Glen
After Aughrim's great disaster, when our foe, in sooth, was master,
It was you who first plunged in and swam the Shannon's boiling flood.
And through Sliabh Bloom's dark passes you led your Gallowglasses,
Although the hungry Saxon wolves were howling for your blood.
And as we crossed Tipperary, we rived the Clan O Leary,
And a creacht we drove before us as our horseman onwards came.
With our spears and swords we gored them, as through flood and fire we bore them
Still Seán Ó Duibhir a Ghleanna, you were worsted in the game.
Long, long we kept the hillside, our couch hard by the rillside
The sturdy knotted oaken boughs our curtain overhead.
The summer sun we laughed at, the winter snow we scoffed at,
And trusted to our long bright swords to win us daily bread.
Till the Dutchman's troops came round us, in steel and fire they bound us,
They blazed the woods and mountains till the very clouds were flame.
Yet our sharpened swords cut through them, to their very hearts we hewed them,
Still Seán Ó Duibhir a Ghleanna, you were worsted in the game.
Here's a health to yours and my king, the sovereign of our liking,
And to Sarsfield, underneath whose flag we'll cast once more a chance.
For the morning dawn will wing us across the seas and bring us
To take a stand and wield a brand amongst the sons of France.
And as we part in sorrow, still, Seán Ó Duibhir, a chara
Our prayer is "God Save Ireland" and pour blessings on her name.
May her sons be true when needed, may they never fail, as we did
For Seán Ó Duibhir a Ghleanna, you were worsted in the game.
Written by Patrick Augustine Canon Sheehan (d. 1913) and as sung by Susan McKeown
It's come to my attention on more than one occasion (and that was really fetched upside my head at O'Flaherty) that I should have a healthy repertory of my own. You know, with only myself as accompaniment. Since I can't do everything sean-nos (well, I could do, actually), I'm redoubling my efforts to Learn More Songs (and choonz, but tonight appears to be a song night. I pissed about with the Killavel reel, and then...I stopped). I've decided to set this one in D. It's a bit of a stretch for me towards a range I've fallen out of using, but it's pleasant enough in this key and appears to have the mournful, resigned (yet resilient) sound that I think the song should have. If I find tasteful what comes of it when I've at last really learnt it, I may record it and upload it to my Myspace page for a week or so. The sparsely plucked Bm chord isn't quite pleasant yet, so...it's a difficult one. I may need a new styling of it. I've restyled the F#m chord, 'cos the full barre was...oh, say what you will. I shirked it. Fine. But Dave's given me carte blanche frigging leave to build my very own chords out of the needful notes and to draw charts of them and everything. Agus ta se ansin.
With my meagre Irish, that's the closest I can come to 'so, there'. :D
So. If I do upload the fruits of tonight's labour, I'll be sure to post a link to it.
After Aughrim’s Great Disaster
John Dwyer of the Glen
After Aughrim's great disaster, when our foe, in sooth, was master,
It was you who first plunged in and swam the Shannon's boiling flood.
And through Sliabh Bloom's dark passes you led your Gallowglasses,
Although the hungry Saxon wolves were howling for your blood.
And as we crossed Tipperary, we rived the Clan O Leary,
And a creacht we drove before us as our horseman onwards came.
With our spears and swords we gored them, as through flood and fire we bore them
Still Seán Ó Duibhir a Ghleanna, you were worsted in the game.
Long, long we kept the hillside, our couch hard by the rillside
The sturdy knotted oaken boughs our curtain overhead.
The summer sun we laughed at, the winter snow we scoffed at,
And trusted to our long bright swords to win us daily bread.
Till the Dutchman's troops came round us, in steel and fire they bound us,
They blazed the woods and mountains till the very clouds were flame.
Yet our sharpened swords cut through them, to their very hearts we hewed them,
Still Seán Ó Duibhir a Ghleanna, you were worsted in the game.
Here's a health to yours and my king, the sovereign of our liking,
And to Sarsfield, underneath whose flag we'll cast once more a chance.
For the morning dawn will wing us across the seas and bring us
To take a stand and wield a brand amongst the sons of France.
And as we part in sorrow, still, Seán Ó Duibhir, a chara
Our prayer is "God Save Ireland" and pour blessings on her name.
May her sons be true when needed, may they never fail, as we did
For Seán Ó Duibhir a Ghleanna, you were worsted in the game.
Written by Patrick Augustine Canon Sheehan (d. 1913) and as sung by Susan McKeown
It's come to my attention on more than one occasion (and that was really fetched upside my head at O'Flaherty) that I should have a healthy repertory of my own. You know, with only myself as accompaniment. Since I can't do everything sean-nos (well, I could do, actually), I'm redoubling my efforts to Learn More Songs (and choonz, but tonight appears to be a song night. I pissed about with the Killavel reel, and then...I stopped). I've decided to set this one in D. It's a bit of a stretch for me towards a range I've fallen out of using, but it's pleasant enough in this key and appears to have the mournful, resigned (yet resilient) sound that I think the song should have. If I find tasteful what comes of it when I've at last really learnt it, I may record it and upload it to my Myspace page for a week or so. The sparsely plucked Bm chord isn't quite pleasant yet, so...it's a difficult one. I may need a new styling of it. I've restyled the F#m chord, 'cos the full barre was...oh, say what you will. I shirked it. Fine. But Dave's given me carte blanche frigging leave to build my very own chords out of the needful notes and to draw charts of them and everything. Agus ta se ansin.
With my meagre Irish, that's the closest I can come to 'so, there'. :D
So. If I do upload the fruits of tonight's labour, I'll be sure to post a link to it.