Ireland - evergreentrad

07 Apr

St. Patrick’s Day

Come all of ye true sons of Erin,
Come listen awhile unto me,
You’ll find I’m a poor worn out creature,
Condoling here under a tree.
While the heart from my bosom was torn,
The truth unto you I’ll declare,
Young James was the flower of this island,
And he’s left me in grief and despair.

When first I beheld that young hero,
The hills and the valleys were green,
And the leaves they were all in full blossom,
Most beautiful there to be seen.
As she sat in her lone shady bower,
Those charming sweet notes she did play,
And the blackbird and thrush joined in chorus,
With her on St. Patrick’s Day.

Now my friends and my parents consulted,
And they found l was so well inclined,
False stories they told to my true love,
To banish me out of his mind.
But all that they said was a folly,
Every morning and evening I’ll pray,
I’m in hopes for to meet him with pleasure,
Once more on St. Patrick’s Day.

Now young James is the flower of this island,
The same I will never deny,
And the beautiful words that he told me,
I’ll never forget ‘til I’ll die.
But now he is crossing the ocean,
Every morning and evening I’ll pray,
I’m in hopes for to meet him with pleasure,
Once more on St. Patrick’s Day.

_____________

The Avalon Penninsula, on the rocky southeast coast of the remote Canadian island of Newfoundland, attracted a high concentration of Irish families as far back as the 1700s. Many Irish Newfoundlanders have roots specifically in the southeast of Ireland and, to this day, local accents are reminiscent of the Waterford Irish accent. (I highly recommend RTÉ’s incredible documentary The Forgotten Irish which includes footage from Avalon communities including several singers and is available free online.)

MacEdward Leach was the first song collector to bring recording equipment to Newfoundland. The recordings he made in small fishing communities are a treasure trove of beautiful songs. The above song was sung for Leach in 1951 by Cyril O’Brien of Trepassey, a small village on the Avalon. You can here the first verse of the Cyril O’Brien recording here (scroll down if you don’t see it right away).

Norah Rendell, Randy Gosa and I arranged an accompanied version of this song for Norah’s new album Spinning Yarns (officially launched this month). We based it on a snippet of Leach’s recording of this song and his transcribed text which, along with hundreds of other gems, is available online through the Memorial University of Newfoundland. The text above is Norah’s adaptation of O’Brien’s version and I made the transcription based on the Leach/O’Brien recording.

FUN ST. PATRICK’S DAY FACT: Due to its highly Irish population, Newfoundland is one of the only places outside of Ireland where St. Patrick’s Day is a public holiday!

03 Dec

You Rambling Boys of Pleasure

This month we feature a performance of the song of the month, “You Rambling Boys of Pleasure” by Norah Rendell!

Norah’s album Spinning Yarns does not include “You Rambling Boys of Pleasure” but it does feature four other beautiful songs from Angelo Dornan’s repertoire.

Oh you rambling boys of pleasure, join in in those few lines I write,
It is true I am a rover, in roving I take great delight,
When infirmity shall overtake me, old age will force me to roam no more,
But til youth and strength forsake me, I will seek adventure on some foreign shore.

What a foolish boy was I, for to get fond of anyone,
Sure I had my choice of twenty, if ever I chose to wed at all,
I placed my mind on a young girl, often times I thought she did me slight,
Yet my mind was never easy, but when that girl was in my sight.

Oh she told me to take love easy, just as the leaves fell from the tree,
And I being young and foolish, to please my love I did agree,
I believed I could gain her favor, but as time went on it was plain to see,
That my love was unrequited, my blind devotion made a fool of me.

Oh must I go away broken hearted, for to court a girl I never knew?
Or must I be transported, kind cupid won’t you set me free?
I wish I were in Dublin, with a flowing bowl on every side,
Hard fortune will never grieve me, for I am young and the world is wide.

__________________________

My wife Norah Rendell is about to release an album of traditional songs collected in Canada called Spinning Yarns. The recording includes songs collected in Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Quebec and Ontario (with nods to Wisconsin and Maine sources as well)—all material that would fit well in this column. I am thrilled to have played on the recording and I am also delighted that Norah is lending her beautiful voice to the revival of the northwoods branch of the Irish tradition! After the past 8 years of poring over hundreds of recordings and transcriptions of singers from the Maritimes to the Great Lakes, I am still amazed at how many wonderful songs and singers were spread throughout this part of the world. I am also struck by how little-known this fascinating music is. Norah’s album will surely kindle more interest in these rich traditions.

The source singer most represented on Spinning Yarns is Angelo Dornan of Elgin, New Brunswick. For anyone that might question connections between the traditional singing styles of Ireland and that of the northwoods regions, Dornan’s highly-ornamented singing is a revelation. I transcribed this month’s song from a recording made by collector Helen Creighton at Dornan’s home in September 1954.

20 Oct

Barney Blake

[as usual, I mis-remembered a few bits of the melody in this recording… I’d redo it, but the location was too good!]

O me name is Barney Blake, I’m a roving Irish rake
I’m considered by my neighbors good and handy
I was brought up to the spade til I learned the tailor trade
And I think myself as good as Ben or Sandy.

Chorus
O it’s Biddy Donahue sure I caught my eye on you
If you marry Barney why be damn you’ll never rue
You’re the apple of me eye and my Irish cocateau
Mr. Cupid’s knocked me stupid over Biddy Donahue

It’s at a wedding of Pat Malare, sure I first met Biddy there
As I sat beside her at the wedding supper
How I felt I couldn’t say when she handed me the tay
For my heart it melted like a lump of butter.

Now she’s handsome and she’s mild she’s a dacent father’s child
She’s the pride of all around our Irish nation
You would go from here to Spain to hear her sing Napolean’s Dream
And for dancing, boys, she has a lovely carriage.

Now some folks they do try, for to poke out Barney’s eye
But in this I’m sure they all will find a failure
She would not see me fooled, she’s as good as guinea gold
And she’ll marry none [hold on “none”] but Barney Blake the sailor.

_________

This is another song I transcribed from a reel-to-reel recording made in Beaver Island, Michigan while I was at the American Folklife Center in Washington, DC this summer. Singer Dominick Gallagher (1867-1954) sang this for collector Ivan Walton in 1940.

A wonderful aspect of field recordings can be the chat caught on tape before and after songs. Walton made a point of asking Gallagher where he got each song and when he asked him about “Barney Blake,” Gallagher replied:

Gallagher:            “I learned that in the lumber woods about 45 or 50 years ago from a Canadian Scotsman.
Walton:                 “What lumber woods was that?”
Gallagher:            “Up in Grand Marais [pronounced Marase] on Lake Superior shores.”

The song itself seems to have its origins in the Irish music halls of the 1870s where I have found evidence of it being performed by (and perhaps written by) a song and dance duo by the names of Devlin and Tracy that were active in Boston and New York in that era. It was very common for singers to pick up Irish music hall songs and sing them unaccompanied in lumber camps. In fact, another version of Barney Blake was collected from Ottawa Valley singer O.J. Abbott.

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CORRECTIONS FROM PRINT VERSION: I made a couple mistakes in the version published in the IMDA October newsletter and they are correct above. Here’s what I got wrong the first time around:

First, I misidentified the singer as John W. Green instead of Gallagher who actually sang the song for Walton.

Also, I was a bit over-eager to claim a Grand Marais, Minnesota connection for this song based on this mention of “Grand Marais on Lake Superior shores.” After I sent in my column to be published in the IMDA October newsletter, a friend reminded me that there is another Grand Marais on the southeastern shore of Lake Superior in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. It is much more likely that Gallagher did his logging in the locality of the Michigan Grand Marais, not on Minnesota’s north shore.