Tag Archives: Ireland

01 Sep

The Rose of Ardee

When first to this country a stranger I came,
I placed my affections on a comely fair dame,
She was proper, tall and handsome in every degree,
She’s the flower of this country and the Rose of Ardee.

I courted lovely Mary at the age of sixteen,
Her waist it was slender, her carriage genteel,
’Til at length a young weaver came there, her to see,
And stole the flower of the country, the Rose of Ardee.

My curse may it light on you, by day and by night,
You’ve fled with my true love, far, far from my sight,
And left me to mourn in a strange country,
For the loss of my darling the Rose of Ardee.

I’m bound to the city for months two or three,
And perhaps on my journey some pretty girl I’ll see,
In a short space of time she may prove kind to me,
But I never can forget the sweet Rose of Ardee.

When I get my week’s wages to the ale house I’ll go,
And there I’ll sit drinking with my heart full of woe,
I’ll sit there lamenting, expecting to see,
Once more my own true love, the Rose of Ardee.

I swear, lovely Mary, by the powers above,
Though inconstant you’ve been, I no other can love,
Oh if we could meet my sweet bride you should be,
And I should be blest with the Rose of Ardee.

Oh, lovely Mary you have been severe,
To slight your own true love that loved you so dear,
I must weep in despair until death I do see,
For the loss of my darling the Rose of Ardee.

Farewell lovely Mary though fled from my sight,
For you I am weeping by day and by night,
But I fear my sweet angel, I never shall see,
So adieu evermore to the Rose of Ardee.

The “Old Songs Exchange” column that ran in the Minneapolis Journal from October 1923 to January 1925 drew many active readers/correspondents from outside Minnesota.  Newman Van Deusen/Dusen of Brunswick, Ohio may have contributed the words to last month’s song “My Emmett’s No More.” On October 5, 1924, the column ran Van Dusen’s request for the words to “The Rose of Ardee.” Curiously, Newman Van Deusen of Brunswick, Ohio is credited with sending in the words to the song when they were published on November 9, 1924.

It could be that Van Deusen found the text in a songster. His lengthy version closely matches (though not exactly) that printed by Henry De Marsan in New York in the 1868 New Comic and Sentimental Singer’s Journal. A much shorter, fragmentary text for the song appears in a western New York family songbook (circa 1841-1856) published by Harold W. Thompson as A Pioneer Songster so it does seem plausible that the song made it in to tradition in the Lakes states.

“The Rose of Ardee” is sung in the north of Ireland and I have married the Minneapolis Journal text to the air used by Desi Wilkinson on his album The Three Piece Flute.

“The Rose of Ardee” as it appears in the 11/09/1924 “Old Songs Exchange” column in the Minneapolis Journal

23 Aug

Let No Man Steal Your Time

Come all young maids, so fair and gay,
That glory in your prime, [prime,]
Be wise, beware, keep your gardens clear,
Let no man steal your time, [let no man steal your time.]

For when your time it is all gone,
There’ll no man care for you,
And the very place where my time was,
Is spread all over with rue.

The gardener’s son was standing by,
Three flowers he plucked for me,
The pink, the blue, the violet, too,
And the red rosy three.

I’ll cut off the primrose top,
And plant a willow tree,
So that the whole world may plainly see,
How my love slighted me.

Slighted lovers they must live,
Although they live in pain,
For the grass that grows in yon green moor,
In time will rise again.

Roud No.: 3

We have another traditional song this month that appears in the book Jim’s Western Gems compiled by Irish-Minnesotan singer James J. Somers and published in Minneapolis in 1912. Versions of the “Sprig of Thyme” date at least as far back as the 1760s in England and the song came to be sung widely in the English-speaking world. Above, I have married Somers’ text to the melody sung by Dublin singer Patrick Green in 1951 available through the Lomax Digital Archive website.

Somers titles this song text “The Last Song My Father Sang” which is likely a reference to his Irish-born father Martin Somers.

(Most printed versions highlight the double meaning of thyme/time by spelling it “thyme” but Somers’ book spells the word “time.” Somers’ text doesn’t indicate repeated words at the end of the 2nd or 4th lines but I’ve suggested them here to work with Patrick Green’s melody.)

Martin Somers, father of James Somers, as pictured in Jim’s Western Gems. Martin was born in Ireland around 1831 and settled near Cardwell, Ontario, about 60km from the southern tip of Georgian Bay. Nearby placenames to Cardwell include many Irish references such as: Athlone, Achill, Ballycroy, Kilmanagh, Erin and Sligo.

10 Mar

Saint Kevin and the Gander

As Saint Kevin once was travelling through a place called Glendalough,
He met with King O’Toole and he asked him for a shough,
Says the King “You are a stranger and your face I’ve never seen,
But if you want a taste of weed I’ll lend you my duidin.

While the Saint was kindling up his pipe the monarch gave a sigh,
“Is there anything the matter” says the Saint, “that makes you cry?”
Says the King “I had a gander, that was left me by my mother,
And the other day he cocked his toes with some disease or other.”

“Are you cryin’ for the gander? You unfortunate old goose,
Dry up your tears, in frettin’, sure, there’s ne’er a bit o’ use,
As you think so much about the bird, if I make him whole and sound?
Will you give to me the taste o’ land the gander will fly around?”

“In troth I will, and welcome,” said the king, “give what you ask,”
The Saint bid him bring out the bird and he’d begin the task,
The king went into the palace to fetch him out the bird,
Though he’d not the least intention of sticking to his word.

Saint Kevin took the gander from the arms of the King,
He first began to tweak his beak and then to stretch his wing,
The gander he rose in the air, flew sixty miles around,
“I’m thankful to your majesty for that little bit of ground.”

The King to raise a ruction he called the saint a witch,
And he sent for his six big sons to heave him in the ditch,
“Ná bac leis,” says Saint Kevin, “I’ll soon settle these young urchins,”
So he turned the king and his six sons into the seven churches.

Thus King O’Toole was punished for his dishonest doings,
The Saint he left the gander there to guard about the ruins,
If you go there on a summer’s day between twelve and one o’clock,
You’ll see the gander flying round the Glen of Glendalough.

Now I think there is a moral attached unto my song,
To punish men is only right whenever they do wrong,
For poor men they may keep their word much better than folks grander,
For the King begrudged to pay the Saint for curing his old gander.

This is one of two Saint Kevin of Glendalough songs that made their way into tradition. The other, sometimes called “The Glendalough Saint,” (Roud 8001) was sung by the Dubliners and Brendan Behan. The story of Saint Kevin, King O’Toole and the gander (Roud 17152) was sung by legendary Clare musician Micho Russell and others.

The only North American version I am aware of is a very small fragment, a bit of verses five and six above, sung in New Brunswick by the great woods singer Angelo Dornan. Dornan told Helen Creighton his father used to sing the complete song. You can hear Dornan’s fragment under the title “Gander and the Saint” at the wonderful Nova Scotia Archives site. From the fragment, his melody seems to be a version of that used by Limerick singer Con Greaney for “Carlow Town” so I used Greaney’s melody to fill in the blanks here.

Versions of this text were printed in Dublin as early as 1845 (Dublin Comic Songster). A writer with the initials F. P. R. put the text in the “Questions and Answers” section of the New York Times of January 5, 1908 with the following attribution:

The poem of Saint Kevin and King O’Toole was written by Thomas Shalvey, a market-gardener in Dublin, who used to write poems for James Kearney, a vocalist who used to sing at several music-halls and inferior concert rooms in Dublin a good many years ago. Kearney was very popular and some of his best songs were written by Shalvey.

It appears, with the same attribution, in The Humour of Ireland which was published in New York that same year. I incorporated Dornan’s fragment into the New York Times text above.

The song seems certain to have originated among street singers in Dublin in the mid 1800s. Dr Catherine Ann Cullen, a UCD Postdoctoral Fellow with Poetry Ireland, is currently researching and writing about Shalvey, Kearney and other fascinating 19th century Dublin street poets and balladeers and her excellent blog gives more details on the world in which this song emerged.